Greg scrambles to open the condom. “Oh, God, I am. I’m so sorry—”
Trey is bent at the waist, stripping out of his pants, but he places a hand to Greg’s lips. “It’s over with. We’re cool. Let’s just stop talking already, okay? Make it up to me now.”
With a nod, Greg rolls the condom onto his erect c**k. When he sits back, Trey stands naked before him, his skin an even, golden hue that reminds Greg of summertime. A thin line of brown-blond hair trails from his navel to kink into curls at his crotch, where a long, thin c**k stands at half-mast. But Greg’s attention is drawn to the heavy sac hanging below that d**k, hidden in shadow and hair. When he hefts Trey’s balls in his hand, the younger man moans, a lusty sound that ignites Greg’s blood to hear it.
“God,” he sighs, spreading his legs
