Ruslan Tushentsov. Ilya Korchkov. The Mazentsovs.

One couple, Ilya and Ruslan, had strange fetishes. More precisely, only Ruslan did. Ruslan loved Ilya for his slender figure, the moles all over his thin body, and his sweet, slightly elongated face.

Ruslan returned from a tiring business trip. Ilya was in the bedroom, his affectionate cat, Zavertin, sitting on his lap. Ilya stroked his back, watching his beloved pet. Ruslan slammed the door, catching Ilya's attention. Koryakov jumped up, leaving the cat on the bed. In a few seconds, Ilya was standing in front of Ruslan, looking at Ruslan's tired face with a pleasant smile. Tushenzov, looking at his beloved, was filled with softness and kindness. Ilya hugged Ruslan, wrapping his arms around him. Ruslan felt something wrong: his ribs no longer protruded, Ilya's beloved waist was no longer the same.

-You've gained something. Oh, lift up your T-shirt.
Ilya pulled away and, sighing, lifted his shirt. His ribs weren't sticking out. Yes, nothing terrible had happened, but Ruslan was upset.
–I liked you better when you were skinny.

Ilya lowered his gaze, and Ruslan’s hands fell on his waist, feeling his already thin body.
-Ruslan, I'm only 50 kg... is that too much for you?
-Today 50, and tomorrow 55, fatso.

Ruslan, pulling off his jacket, leaves it on the floor.

• although... Everything is not so bad, touching you is much more pleasant now.
  His hands are again on Ilya's torso, feeling him.