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His fingertips pushed the trunks’ bottoms up to reach further on my shaft. The more skin he rubbed with oil, the more intense the sensations that filled me up inside.

“Who did you go down for?”

His question fell on deaf ears, all my attention on his fingers closing around my cock, wrapping half my shaft, his stroking triggering new ripples. I think he kept asking questions I didn’t register. Until something he said reached my muddled brain.

“It was your girlfriend, right? Stephanie Munching. Only now she goes as Stefie Mancciari. Pretty close, though. Like Dean Walsh to Dylan Wallace.”

“Fuck you,” I mumbled.

“Someone needs to watch his manners.”

Before I could even realize what was going on, he pulled up my slacks and yanked me closer, making me turn at the same time. I ended up sitting across his lap, one of his arms around my waist. Don’t ask me how he did it, but he kept me in place while he fastened my fly with his spare hand. A moment later, it moved between my legs, pressing my