Sean holds his shirt up with one hand as the other rubs over the straight rows of braids along the top of Cordero’s head. “Yes,” he sighs when Cordero moves lower, tugging Sean’s shorts down around his knees. “God, please.”
Cordero’s mouth follows the thin trail of coppery hair that leads down from Sean’s navel. His thumbs hook through the straps on Sean’s jock strap, stretch them a bit, snap them into place again. Sean’s c**k strains the front of his underwear, an unsightly bulge Cordero opens his mouth wide to take in. For a moment he massages Sean through the fabric, his lips and tongue and teeth teasing as they dampen the material. Arching away from the wall, Sean bucks into Cordero as his hands fist in his shirt. His voice rings off the tile around them. “Yes, yes!”
They’ve never do
