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Summary
George made a sudden movement with his mouth. His tongue, wet and sinuous, edged a path around the column of Max’s cock like he was tracing a map of the pass on Max’s skin. It was too much, and it was not enough, and Max’s hips jerked involuntarily as his grip tightened on the steering wheel, letting off the accelerator just a hair as the wheels screeched around the tight turn.
“Fuck!” he exclaimed. “You really want to kill us?! Enough, George!”
Post Italian Grand Prix 2026. They go on a joyride in a most unexpected car, and George has several stories to tell.
Series
- Part 8 of pareidolia