Saturday morning, Brandon slept in. He woke just before eight, hard; his dream of Paul bent double beneath him still hot in his mind. A few strokes of his hand and Brandon’s mind flitted back to Ramon, his soft skin darker than his own. It made Brandon wonder if his c**k would be blackish, if he was cut, what he would taste like. Brandon’s left hand palmed his balls; tugged them and rolled them the way Paul had done so many times. His c**k twitched in his grip, hips thrusting now. He gasped for breath as he pumped away and the pleasure started low in his belly, between his legs then up to his c**k. He came with a thick groan, crying out, but he didn’t know whose name he called.
Paul? Ramon?
He grabbed the second pillow and pulled it to his chest. Sometimes he thought that was what he mis
