For long moments, we linger in the back seat. Our body heat has warmed the car’s interior—the air is thick with the intoxicating smell of sweat and s*x, and neither of us is ready to call it a night just yet. When my limp c**k finally slips out of Paul’s ass, the condom stays behind, soaking the front of my jeans with my own c*m.
Paul laughs until he realizes his khakis also took a hit—that oily spot on the front thigh isn’t the only stain now. Snapping his briefs into place, he kicks the khakis into a ball on the floor of the car, then crawls between the front seats to plop down behind the wheel. “I’m driving home like this,” he announces.
Alone in the back seat, I stretch out and struggle to pull up my damp jeans. My tender d**k doesn’t want to retreat into my briefs just yet, but I j
