f**k, where did Calvin get these dumbass phrases?
Calvin’s next in-stroke was so powerful it made the wooden headboard bang into the wall, competing with the crashes of thunder outside. And that was just the start. Who knew such a leanly muscled guy would have such power? Brock felt himself being pushed up the bed, but Calvin was onto it and—grabbing him by the thighs—pulled Brock back onto Calvin’s pistoning rod. Brock knew he’d have bruises in the morning, but he didn’t give a s**t.
Brock couldn’t help it. His hand reached for and began to flog his d**k. Calvin must not have noticed as he didn’t stop him. Brock would have punched him if he had.
“Yeah man, do it!” Calvin had noticed. “Come on, cowboy, shoot that fuckin’ load.”
Brock let out a scream that would have woken the neighbor
