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Summary
“How do you do it?” Max demanded. He tore through the racesuit, stripping it as fast as he could until he could hold George in hand. George was soft there, pathetic and cold even as sweat had soaked the synthetic. “How do you just walk around like that?”
“Like what?” George pushed him off, gasping as Max gripped his cock harder, and that too was cut off as Max’s other arm slammed against his throat. “Max!”
“Did they lobotomize you?” His chest felt so tight, the anger like explosive about to detonate. “Is Toto’s cock that good?”
George went completely still. His stomach convulsed; Max could feel it, pressed against his own, George’s diaphragm fluttering to draw in air. “What did you just say?”
Hungarian Grand Prix 2026. Summer break is about to start. Some people dream of bright, sunny summer days.
Series
- Part 6 of pareidolia
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