Fratatouille by Kris Klein

Heat Rating: Fire

Content Warning: GLBT homoerotica, dubious consent

A young chef dreams of something other than cooking, unfortunately it's something out of reach... or is it?

I'd just sliced into my first tomato, trying to work in what meager light was coming off the stove, when a low groan and loud chunk! from behind about made me jump out of my skin. I turned around automatically, to see what had made the noise, and was in time to see CJ yawn and roll onto his back on the kitchen table at the other end of the room, still asleep, his long and hairy legs now dangling over the edge of the table. The beer bottle was on the floor under his feet.

Worse, even in the shitty semi-darkness of the kitchen, my eyes landed immediately on those smiley-face boxers... which were now stretched and fully tented out at the crotch by a huge and very rigid boner--the head of which was hiding just inside their gaping-open fly.

I dropped the tomato into the crockpot whole, barely realizing I'd done it. CJ's rock-hard pole, thick and probably close to nine inches in length, was curved upward toward his belly and stretching those boxers so tightly on his body, I was surprised the faces on them weren't frowning now. Without thinking I found my feet moving forward--toward the table--my cock like a divining rod that had just found an unexpected ocean in the room. Moving between his spread legs as if in a trance, CJ snoring away with no worries, I held my breath and simply watched, as my left hand reached over to pull the open fly of his boxers even wider.

A fat, tan and uncut cock, its shaft wrapped in veins of manhood, popped from the sleeping frat boy's boxers as if to say "Free at last!" It slapped straight out of his shorts like a ruler, standing straight up for a moment before quivering back into position again, to point straight upward at his flat belly.