Now I was looking at the tassels hanging from his balls. I burst out laughing as Holt stood there proudly, his hands on his hips. The tassels were bright pink—obviously—and sparkly, the heart-shaped pasties clinging to his sac for dear life. As he chuckled and bent over slightly to peer down at them, the left one fell off. “Oh, for fuck’s sake!” He bent to grab it. “Ball skin is not designed to have stuff stuck to it. It’s too… textured.”
