[instead of whatever cheeky answer he might've come back with, all he manages is a moan as three fingers hit his prostate dead-on. he'd love to remind adam that he wasn't exactly a spring chicken, either, but all words, no matter what language, completely escape him while those fingers assault him. well, not assault, adam clearly is trying to slow down, but the sensation is new, taking up all available brain power.
it's honestly a miracle he doesn't cum.
john's hands grip in the sheets on the bed, muscles on his thighs and abdomen quivering every so often from his friend's ministrations.]
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it's honestly a miracle he doesn't cum.
john's hands grip in the sheets on the bed, muscles on his thighs and abdomen quivering every so often from his friend's ministrations.]
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