Fuck no, a ghra. You know what it’s like living in a madhouse? I’m fine here with you. Kinda be cool. You’re never alone, you know? The shouting. Having to find a free bathroom. Worst part about it? I don’t think I could have sex in my parents’ house. Too odd. Okay, here it is. —Conversations in the Family Room “YOU SURE?” Connor had to whisper, because if he spoke any louder, he’d shatter the crème brûlée sugar sweetness of their kiss. His cock was ready, heavy and ponderous between his legs. The department-issued uniform was made of thick, durable black fabric, but his dick seemed to have plans on breaking right through the weave. If he’d had any question about being attracted to Forest Ackerman, it was certainly gone now. Connor tried not to think of all the times he’d had a woman beneath him. Forest deserved better than that, but the comparison was still there—maybe it would always be there, but then, he thought, it didn’t really matter.
