“Sorry, you’re going to have to put your shirt back on, and I’m going to have to stop stroking my dick if we’re going to have a serious conversation.” I spit out my chili the second the spoon reaches my lips. “Stop.” Wiping my mouth, I laugh. And I also thread my arms through my shirt and pull it over my head. He brushes his hand on his shirt like he’s wiping it off. I shake my head. “Only the king of SPAM would masturbate to a can of soup.”
