“What the fuck are you doing in my bed?” I hollered, snatching the blanket he’d kicked off.
“I think you mean what were you doing in my bed,” he corrected.
I frantically looked around at what appeared to be the interior of a log cabin or some structure similar to one. There were windows four feet off the floor, just above knotty pine wall planks that went around the entire square. The only place without a window held a door, and that door had a window as well.
I stood too quickly and felt a wave of nausea speed to my head and remind my brain something was off. I staggered to a window and looked out, instantly overcome with one of my worst fears when I saw how high above ground I was. I backed up and closed my eyes.
“Wh . . . where . . . am I?” I whispered, reaching my hand out for something stable to hold onto. He. Him. The whatever, stood and came to my side, placing his hand around my waist. He’d neglected to remember that he was naked and his sail mast had yet to unfurl. His massive figure towered over me and I felt tiny in his presence. He was a hunk when I’d first seen him clothed, but this nude version was beyond anything I’d ever witnessed up close.
I backed away until my ass bumped into a countertop behind me. A sink with a few dishes was to my left and a camp stove was to my right. I tightened the blanket around me and gawked. Cadet Dirk stood motionless in the middle of the room and gave exactly zero shits that he was naked. Jesus, dude! What do they feed you?
He was a vision to behold. He placed one hand on his hip and the other dangled in front of his cock, not caring if he hid the marvel or not. He was huge. Not like a giant blob or anything, but each individual body part was by itself, simply large. His shoulders, his chest, and his arms. He had biceps that needed their own zip code. A smattering of hair decorated the space between his pecs and formed a small line that marched down to his belly button, an outie, and then to a trimmed bush of pubic hair that crowned the king of cocks.
Thick and very muscular thighs supported the entire God project. But it was his cock that I couldn’t keep my eyes off of. Softer now, but long and thick with a mushroom head the shade of a summer plum. His manhood hung slightly to the right while his meaty balls hung on for dear life. I could help support them.
“Put some clothes on,” I blurted, turning away from him.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “I can pose longer if you’re not done drooling.”
“Yeah, right. That’s absurd. I’ve seen naked men before,” I protested.
“I’m sure you have, but did you spend as much time admiring them the way you are me?”
“Gross.” I searched for my clothes. I must have had clothes. “Why am I up…” I pointed to the windows. “Up…How high are we?” I squeaked.
“About a hundred and twenty feet. You like it?” he asked, turning away and heading for a closet that had three visible drawers built in.
“I hate it,” I blathered, standing on my tippy-toes to check the distance to the ground one more time. I diverted my eyes to his backside as he walked to the closet.
His ass was a sculpture and I involuntarily inhaled as I bit my lower lip. The massive V built into his back was ridiculous. No man should be gifted with the DNA prize he’d been given. Dirk reached into a drawer and pulled out a pair of black briefs, turning around before putting them on. His eyes connected with mine and he smirked before mine obscenely fell to his cock. I couldn’t help myself. I tried. I tried so goddamned hard, but I just couldn’t look away. “Find something you like?” he growled in a deep voice.
“You’re not my type,” I stated. “Besides, who said I was gay?”
“No one,” he replied. “But your eyes give you away, Mr. Jensen.”
“You wish.”
This man was smug and I didn’t like smug. I decided to add smug to the list of the things I hated about him. A list getting longer by the minute. He didn’t move to put his briefs on. Instead he stood smirking at me, looking all perfect and shit. Yeah, I hated him.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Dirk
“Where are my clothes?” my guest asked, standing against the kitchen counter. He’d spun himself into the blanket and held it tight to himself.
“I’ve already seen you in all your glory,” I casually stated, slipping the first leg into the briefs in my hand. “Thin for sure, but I liked it.”
“What the fuck, creep?” he hissed. He scanned the room. “My clothes?”
“Not sure really. I assume under four feet of snow by now.”
“How’s that even possible?” he asked.
“I’m betting that you undressed when you rolled yourself up in the tarp. Maybe your clothes were wet?” I asked. He didn’t respond to my guess but his brow was furrowed so I knew he was trying to recall what had happened. “Killer move with the tarp though, buddy.”
“Thanks,” he mumbled. “I’m going to guess that it was you who brought me up here?” I nodded, adjusted my nuts in my underwear, and moved toward him. About two feet away he quickly slid down the edge of the counter so I could crowd past him and get my morning best friend, Mr. Coffeemaker, going. “You actually carried me upstairs by yourself? Which by the way, where are the stairs?” he inquired.
“I did,” I responded. “The stairs are located underneath the tower, and carrying you was easy because you’re skinny, dude.” He ignored the observation. “Coffee drinker?” I asked, backing away and finding a seat at the old dining table. I yanked one of the mismatched chairs from under it and sat down.
“Yes,” he answered. “So you’re basically saying I have no clothes to wear?” he added.
