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Summary
Danny just needs a job. He doesn't need nosy colleagues or inconvenient boners, and he especially doesn't need a proclivity for pissing himself. This job, this place, these people... They're all so perverted. So why can't he stay away? And why is he so damn thirsty?
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Summary
With a quick flick of the buttons and zip of the fly, Malcolm felt the chill of the evening lick at his exposed skin. He shuffled his pants down past the curve of his ass, revealing his t-dick: puffed, flushed, and glistening.
He wrapped his thumb and pointer finger around his shaft, groaning softly as he began to stroke over the flesh of his foreskin. His other hand slid under his shirt, taking turns tweaking each nipple.
Malcolm thumped his head into the seat, eyes fluttering shut as he lost himself to the rapid twitch of his wrist and the shitty techno on the radio.
~This goes out to my trans men who love trans men and everyone who loves a good t-dick~

