Male Inflation

I walk into our house through the front door.  Stepping into the living with the high, vaulted ceiling, I see you.  You stand in the middle of the room, in a sexy set of red lingerie: thigh-high stockings, a thong, a garter belt, and a bra.  Your luscious brown hair is down, flowing over your beautiful face, slender shoulders, and resting on your curvaceous breasts.  You walk up to me seductively, with a devilish look on your face.  You stand up on your tiptoes and wrap your arms around my head and kiss me passionately.  My hands instinctively

Bill plopping down his gym bag near the front door stomped into the kitchen of his home. Bill was a tall, athletic guy with a shaved head, piercing blue eyes and was at the moment absolutely starving. As he did every Saturday Bill had gone rowing and as always he could eat a horse by the time he got home.

    "Look what I swiped from work, Jordan!" Abe cheered. He held up a spray bottle.
    "Oh, nice, glass cleaner," I replied. "Are you a kleptomaniac now?"
    I was lying in bed, wearing nothing but briefs, and reading a book. My lightly muscle toned hairy body was on top of the covers. Abe, my handsome Latino boyfriend, was in a wife beater and boxers, his thin, wiry body next to mine.
    "It's the stuff!" he exclaimed.
    "Sanitizer?" I asked, putting my book aside.

    "FETISH GAS BANNED FROM PUBLIC SALE."
    I was surprised at this article I'd found online. My boyfriend Rob and I and my other boyfriend Elvis had been using inflatium for years to inflate ourselves into various bloated forms for fun and sex. Now the government was banning it from being distributed to the public. Not only could we not get new supplies, we couldn't resell it to our fellow fetishists, who would have to make do with those silly inflatable costumes now.