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Cooling Off: He was arrested by the sight of the trembling boy. Mr. Stone's carved, experienced hands slowly extended back to his son's firm shoulders. He kneaded sweat-stained skin, rubbed the nape of an overworked neck. Every new bit of pressure he rubbed into Logan's traps, he saw equal parts of pleasure and uncertainty mixed on the boy's face. Both man and boy had, unknowingly, instinctively, spread their legs just a bit wider than before. And his were not the only hands that wandered. He felt like he was viewing himself from the outside, witnessing something he shouldn't see—the discovery of what made Logan aroused. And it wasn't just discovery, it was participation—it was his hands, his masculinity, his touch that melted that boy so. Mr. Stone wanted to look away, to turn his head and hide his face.
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