As you kneel in front of Jack's round, hairy belly you can't help but want to see him completely naked.
'Hey, Jack, it's boiling in here' you mutter, 'And we're both guys. Do you ever like to just sit around in your birthday suit?'
Jack's glare is persistent, and for a moment you fear you might have gone too far. Then, without a word, he undoes his top button and leans back.
You rest your elbows on the muddy denim of Jack's jeans, and gently pull apart the buttons on his crotch. Holding the frayed, crusty ends of the jeans, you slide them past Jack's bare feet and onto the floor.
His bare legs are thick, muscular and hairy. A nasty smell of old urine and crotch sweat reaches your nose, and you look up to see his frayed, yellowed boxers, damp with sweat.
Jack slides one of his huge hands under the cotton of his nasty boxers, scratching idly. Looking quizzically at you, he pushes them down, sliding them down his legs and kicking them away with one foot, leaving him naked.
Jack's crotch is a forest of curly pubic hair, wet with sweat and sticky with old semen. His cock is huge, a dark-coloured beer-can sized organ, flaccid but terrifyingly large. He leans back, stretching his legs, and belches. He is ignoring you again, in favor of his drink and sports game.