S.A.C. Phatbuldge 2 - Connections
Andrew's laptop balanced on his thighs, the heat from the processor radiating through his jeans and warming the heavy swell of his testicles beneath. The contraction he had felt in his apartment had never quite gone away, and his sack felt tight and constricted around his nuts. The company van rumbled north on the 101, the suspension groaning under the combined weight of five men and their equipment, and Andrew typed with methodical precision while the others filled the cab with the kind of filthy banter that you'd expect to see in a League of Legends public lobby. Josh was mid-story, something about a Tinder date who'd tried to photograph his cock for an art project, and the van swayed with the resulting laughter. "-and I'm like, ' Lady, that ain't a selfie stick ,'" Josh finished, slapping his massive thigh with a hearty THWACK. Alvin wheezed from where he was wedged between Josh and the window, his muscular frame compressed into the narrow spa...