The trip of a straight guy to Brazil

We continued doing this back and forth for a few more minutes I guess. Then he finished his juice and walked away. I saw the muscles in his back play under his silky, tan skin and then it glistened when the sun hit it. He was waiting for the stoplight. I quickly paid off and walked outside, trying my best to hide my hard-on. I knew I was doing something weird but I couldn’t stop myself, and don’t think I would have wanted to at this point. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do anyway! I walked up next to him. He glanced at me, nodded as if to say “hi” and quickly looked me up and down. I was impressed by how confident and relaxed he was, but I guess he had no reason not to be; it’s just that I’m sure he saw I was nervous and so on. He just ignored me though and started to cross the street. I followed!

As we were walking side by side, he spoke to me in accented English. He said, “Hi.” I looked back at him and said hi. “What is your name?” He spoke pretty good English. “Tom,” I said. Anyway he didn’t say anything but we had just reached the other side of the street. He put his hand out nonchalantly, “Hi Tom, I’m Carlos.” I took his hand but he just gave it one shake, not even, and released, not rudely, but as if he was leading things. We just stood looking at each other for a few seconds; he didn’t have an aggressive look on his face or anything, but his relaxed confidence and iciness, mixed with a somewhat friendly air, were unnerving, I felt myself getting hard again. His eyes seem to look right through mine. “Where are you staying?” he asked. I gulped. “Over here,” I signaled with a nod at the building a couple down behind him. “Cool,” he said, as if he was accepting a dinner invitation, signaled with his head and turned around.