8
Travis
“Where’s my dark blue T-shirt?” I asked, stuffing a bite of scrambled eggs and toast into my mouth.
“Your dark blue T-shirt …” Ryan repeated as he looked through the refrigerator. He was bent forward with his a*s sticking toward me and the base of his butt plug just visible through the sheer flesh colored fabric.
“Yeah, it’s one of the ones I wear to work. I haven’t seen it for a couple weeks. I looked in the laundry room and there’s nothing there. I checked my drawers and closet too.”
Ryan stood up slowly and close the refrigerator door. “Hmmm,” he said as he turned and made his way to the kitchen table, his c**k already hard and sticking straight out in front of him. “We need milk and eggs and some meat for dinner. Maybe pork chops?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.
“Sure,
