Page 68 of The Good Boys Club

“Hmm, what a pickle,” Clem said. “What if you tucked the whole thing between your legs?”

“That would look even weirder,” Sean said.

Yup, I was going to die from embarrassment. My gravestone would read:Here lies Cian Barker and his foreskin. Loving son and friend. Taken from us too soon by excessive cringe.

“Shit, what are we gonna do? If any of the others see your extra layer, they’ll tell Rita for sure,” Sean said, now fully invested in my penis predicament.

Mash snorted. “Extra layer. Good one. What about . . . his little tip pouch?”

“Pig in a blanket,” Sean said back.

“His sausage wrapper.” Mash.

“Peenie pocket.” Sean.

“Schlong sleeve.” Mash again.

“Lipstick purse.” Sean.

Clem eventually stepped between them. “Lads, focus. You’re getting silly. What are we actually gonna do?”

We. Clem had said “we,” like me having a foreskin was now her problem to bear.

“Circumcision is not an option right now,” Mash said.

“Circumcision is never going to be an option, okay?!” I snapped.

Mash held his hands up in a surrender gesture.

“I got it!” Clem declared, as though figuring out the crossword clue for eleven down. “There’s another five, ten minutes until we start shifting. Say you need to pee, and leave the tent, and we’ll figure something out for next time.”

“I must reiterate, again, the foreskin stays on my dick for as long as I have it. No snippy snippy,” I said.

“I’ll take him outside,” Mash said, guiding me as he walked backwards to the closest tent flap.

Sean opened his mouth, but obviously decided better, and closed it again.

“Sean, if you want to see it . . . come on then,” I said.

He looked at his mate, who gave him anif you mustlook, and followed us through the side of the marquee.

“Fascinating. Absolutely fascinating,” he said, after bending down to get an eyeful of my bits. “It looks so cosy. Like a naked mole rat wearing a little flesh-coloured blanket. Anyway, thanks. Catch you later.” He turned on his tail and slipped through the slit in the tent.

“Happy now?” I heard Clem whisper before she dropped the fabric back into place, leaving Mash and me alone and naked under the glittering sky.

Finally, I let my eyes travel over Mash’s perfect form. Over his abdominal muscles, the veins that tracked down the lines of his hip and pelvis, those large, powerful thighs of his, and his dick. Soft, but no less inviting.

Damn, damn, damn.

“Bangers, are you eye-fucking me?” he said.

Busted. “Course not. Trick of the moonlight.”

“Right,” he said with a derisive snort. His face was half in shadow, so it was difficult to make out his expression. What wasn’t difficult to see was the way his gaze dragged from my face to my feet and back up, lingering for a moment longer than was strictly necessary on my dick.

I stepped into his space. “You weren’t just eye-fucking me, were you?”

Mash’s lips parted, but no words came out. He started growling.

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