He just smirks and drags his gray sweatpants up his legs, apparently planning on going commando. “You should go straight home,” I murmur. “I was planning on taking you home,” he says. I lift my shoulder. “Girls will want to ravage you if they see your dick swinging in your gray sweatpants. It’s that season.” “What season?” I roll my eyes. “Gray sweatpants season. Did you buy them with that in mind?” He faces me and cups his dick through the fabric. “So this turns you on?” “No.” I wrinkle my nose. “Never mind.” He smirks. “Uh-huh.” Great. Just what he needs—more ego.
Love it… Gray sweatpants season!!!
