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Summary
Robby hitches up Dennis’ boxers even higher on his leg, exposing a slight tan line around his crotch. He runs his latex covered fingers over his inner thigh, avoiding his freshly stitched cuts.
Dennis still winces, his whole thighs sore from the ordeal. Robby tsks as his fingers catch on his sweaty skin. “I never noticed how many scars you have, Whitaker.” He lowers his voice, unsure if he’s meant to speak it aloud, “You’re covered in them.”
“Oh, yeah. They’re from the farm.” It’s not a total lie.
or: robby fucks dennis so hard he rips his stitches open