The trip of a straight guy to Brazil

A few feet in front of me a guy was having some kind of juice. Now I’m not gay or anything and had never done anything with another guy, but something about him left me stunned. He was around my height but packed a lot more muscle. He wasn’t exactly a bodybuilder, but he was seriously built, had a deep tan and a very handsome face; he didn’t look hispanic I guess, more white, but he had a very deep tan and was wearing just surfing shorts. What amazed me was the perfection of his body…it didn’t look grotesque or over-defined like on some older guys who’ve been working out for years or took steroids. You could see almost every muscle, but there was nothing unnatural or artificial about it; his six-pack was more like an eight-pack and I was in a trance by how perfect it was, I mean it wasn’t like a hint or outline of muscle, it really seemed to be cut out of marble. He was also watching the screen, not really noticing me.

A few minutes later I looked back up to his face. He had noticed I was checking out his body I think…I must have turned a few shades of red. This in turn made me even more embarrassed, so I looked away. I looked back up maybe half a minute later. He was watching the screen again. I couldn’t take my eyes off his defined, bronzed, glistening muscles. I couldn’t believe it, but I was getting hard! It was not like watching a girl and getting hard though. I felt weak in his presence. What the fuck was happening? Then I looked back up to his handsome face again. He was watching me. Although I became flustered again I didn’t look away. He didn’t have much of a reaction one way or another to me looking at him it seems. I couldn’t read him. He wasn’t angry, surprised, uncomfortable or anything. He just stared back at me for a few seconds, he seemed relaxed and confident. Then he watched TV again while he was finishing his juice.