To Vic, that meant, bend over. “I sort of hoped to eat first,” he admitted. “I f**k better on a full stomach.”
Stepping out of Vic’s embrace, Matt laughed as he began to soap up a washcloth. “I never noticed. You f**k great all the time to me.”
“Well,” Vic conceded, “since you’re the only one I’m f*****g, I guess that’s all that matters. What are you doing?”
“What’s it look like?” The washcloth bubbled with lather now, the white suds dribbling down Matt’s arm like c*m.
“Are you sure this doesn’t involve me getting it up the ass somehow?” Vic asked, dubious. “Soap burns, you know?”
“You like it,” Matt countered. At Vic’s concession, though, Matt slapped the washcloth to Vic’s broad, hairless, heavily tattooed chest. His fingers began massaging the cloth against Vic’s skin, paying speci
