"You’ve already agreed to the next two levels," he said. "It would be breaking the deal to back out now. Nothing has really been done before we get to the end of that part of the deal, where you no longer keep your jeans on. You’ve just got some money and you don’t have to admit to anything life altering." He had already brought his right hand up to where it was lightly covering my package. "So, are you ready to add to the cash register."

"Yes, I guess so," I responded, teased mightily by that hand covering my cock.

But at that point, he stood up and backed off a bit. He slowly unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off his body. Then he pulled his undershirt over his head. He was in great shape for a man his age, as I knew he was because I’d seen him work out shirtless before. The thick veins running through his pumped-up muscles gave me a slight thrill. His pants were really low-riding and must have been kept up by that tented bulge I could see right below the beltline. He leaned into me, our torsos skin on skin, and I felt his hand return to my crotch. He brought his mouth to mine for another lingering kiss. His hand at my crotch became more active. He increased the pressure, moved about more rapidly, and, when he had traced my engorging cock and found my balls, he began to clutch and rub in a way that was driving me crazy. I began to moan, and my pelvis seemed to take on a life of its own, moving in a slight grinding motion. He pulled away from the kiss, and his tongue traveled down along my neck and into my right armpit.

"$270," I squeaked.

"Doesn’t get you too far, does it? You’ll be wanting to know what big money is. And speaking of big . . ." he had the flat of his hand on my belly, and he was working the fingers of his right hand under my waistband and crawling through my pubic hair."

"Shit, these jeans are just too tight," he complained. And then he must have unbuttoned my jeans and quickly pulled the zipper down with his left hand, because suddenly I felt a release of the constriction at my crotch, and felt Clint’s right hand slide down onto my dick. He wrapped his hand around my dick and then continued on down to the head. And then he went on down to weigh my balls. I could feel him catch and take his breath in, and I found that this gave me a little thrill of pleasure, just as it did when the ladies got to the point of realizing what was going to slide into them.

"Oh, God, Ben." Clint whispered huskily. "What a package you’ve got. What are you? Seven, eight inches?"

"Eight," I said, with some pride.

"And these balls. Like cannonballs."

"I’m glad you approve. But you know, you’ve just gone to $370 and beyond. You were supposed to stop with feeling what you could with the jeans on. You’ve gone beyond that. Uh, oh, God. Gawd!" His hand was flying all over my prick and balls, and his fingers played in my pubic hair. "Stop that, I said weakly. We hadn’t gotten to hand jobs, yet, either."

"Technically wrong on both counts," Clint said breathily. "First, your jeans aren’t