Watching
They are strength, vitality, gods among men. They train day in and day out, perfecting their form with the knowledge they were once given. Muscles strain, aching from overexertion but their strict methods produce flawless results. Green skin glistens, tendons shift under scales they are magnificent. You watch from a distance admiring their bodies, appreciating the view and the terrapins secretly eat up the attention. They can smell your arousal; it’s so very hard to miss. The shifting of your thighs to ease your own ache, the swallow of your dry throat, does not go unnoticed by the four ninjas.
They are shirtless, sans their regular gear with only tight pairs of cotton pants on their lower half’s leaving very little to your over active imagination. They move through their katas blindfolded in near perfect synchronization. Forms tight, breathing controlled, it was a sight to behold. You silently thanked whatever god that allowed you to meet these four mutant turtles that night, so very blessed to witness their craft, their talent on a regular basis. Now if only you could gather the courage to confess your feelings, hoping he felt the same. Maybe tonight would be the night…..perhaps.
