"Oops, sorry! Didn't know you were here already," you say awkwardly as you walk in on Marty in the bathroom upstairs. He's standing over the toilet and doesn't flinch. He's just finished taking a piss, and he flushes the toilet and puts away his cock before turning around.
"No worries. I should've locked the door," he says friendlily, standing in front of you in just his underwear, a pair of tight boxer briefs. You've barely known him for a couple hours and you already get to see him in next to nothing! You try not to get distracted by the full bulge sticking out in the front of his boxer briefs.
"I just wanted to make sure there's towels in here," you say, trying to sound casual, holding a stack of clean towels. You walk inside the bathroom and close the door behind you so you can put the towels down on the shelf.
"Thank you. That's nice of you," Marty casually leans back against the sink to sit on it. In the mirror behind him, you see his muscular ass cheeks perked up against the sink, like two scoops of ice cream overflowing from the cone.
You're about to turn around and leave, but this is the first moment the two of you get to speak alone, so you decide to make the most of it and use the opportunity to bond. He is going to be your step-son soon, after all.
"I heard you had a really good football season this year," you say to him. "Congratulations."
"How do you know that?" Marty smiles.
"I'm screwing your coach," you crack a joke.
That makes him laugh, which causes him to flex his abs. Or is he doing it on purpose? Either way, you're impressed by how amazingly fit this boy's body is. His dad has shown you plenty of photos proudly, but Marty looks even better in person, especially with so much skin and muscle on display.
"Your father told me, obviously," you say.
"I didn't know you two talk about me."
"Oh yeah, all the time. He complains how he could never raise you to lock the bathroom door."
"Ha!" Marty laughs again, flexing his muscles some more. This time, his perky pecs bounce as he speaks to you. "Well good thing I didn't. Otherwise I might end up with no towel. What do I do then, just walk out naked?"
"Yeah, that would be… embarrassing," you say, barely blinking. By now, Marty's hooked one thumb on the waistband of his boxer briefs, pulling the low-cut underwear even lower. It's a casual, rugged stance; and he probably doesn't even know that he's exposing a bit of his pubic hair.
"I'll see you around," he says to you, a smile on his face. Or is it more of a smirk?
"Yeah. S-see you," it's your turn to stutter now.