Charlie Day
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“Dude, you ever heard of like knocking or whatever. Geez can’t a man enjoy his milk steak!” loudly complained Charlie as his new, temporary roommate barged in. Mac, going through 7 different expressions at once, landed in confusion as he glued his eyes to his half-naked, jacking off friend, more surprised that Charlie didn’t even try to cover himself.
“Dude, why are you … on the chair, with your legs … what are you,” stammered the sleeveless man as he made no attempt to avert his eyes, jaw dropping as Charlie’s hung, veiny appendage twitched in his palm. “What, this? This is how I do it. I don’t judge you for whatever it is you do,” mumbled the naked figure, splitting him time between arguing and touching himself, loud squelching sounds emerging from his clenched fist.
“You are hunched like a, freaking gargoyle on a church! Why are your legs pushed up like that? Why aren’t you doing it in bed!” continued to voice Mac, now more focused on yelling than peeping, not that his brain wasn’t swollen with new, sexually-charged neurons. Charlie waved his hand dismissively, flicking off a bit of spit and lube from his fingers which splattered on the desk, Mac licking his lips as his eyes hovered to the trail.
“How else am I gonna play with my ass, I mean, i lay down and my butt is touching the mattress, how am I supposed to put my fingers up there, you know?” answered Charlie honestly as his hairy, puckered hole became the new focal point, Mac’s jaw dropping once again …