Something from Sins of the Flesh

They made their way to Boston Harley Davidson, where John bought a black canvas Harley shirt, that buttoned down the front with snaps designed to hold the collar down when thundering down the road with your fists in the wind.
John asked the curvaceous apparel girl that took care of their transaction to cut the tags off for him. She smiled with anticipation, hoping he would change shirts in the open. She handed the shirt back to John, who laid it on the counter. He peeled off the hospital shirt he had been wearing, wadded it up and held it out toward the woman. She took it with a smile while she admired John’s incredible physique. Unlike his brother, Jack, who bulged like a bodybuilder, John was knitted with long, fast muscles. His chest was chiseled square, and his shoulders broad with muscle striations that looked as if they had been drawn on with a pencil. His arms were proportioned to his shoulders and chest, with the same definition as the abdominal muscles that seemed to hold the entire package together.
He buttoned up the last button, and winked at the sexy thing that would have turned his head before he met Karen.

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