Brock thought he would die, pass out or just come from all the prep work Calvin insisted on doing to his ass.
“Just f**k me,” Brock groaned after Calvin had been messing around back there for a good quarter hour. The storm was showing no signs of abating.
“Asses are like fine wine. They need to be savored.”
Jesus, his butt wasn’t a fuckin’ bottle of merlot. However, Brock couldn’t be too sore at Calvin. If he hadn’t got the slick and box of rubbers from the drug store then they wouldn’t be doing this now. Brock didn’t keep such things in the house, although with Junior getting to that age, he would have to revise that idea. Brock didn’t want any more unplanned pregnancies in his family.
“Wow, you’re tight. How long’s it been?”
Brock grunted when Calvin stretched him a bit further.
