Passing at Christmas

They were both standing on the carpet below the bed again. Reginald was fucking his valet from behind again, but this time he was holding him close, one hand on his belly and one on a pec. Edwin wrapped an arm around Reginald’s neck and pulled his mouth to Edwin’s lips. Reginald was groaning and opening to the kiss. Edwin lifted his feet, one after the other and wrapped his legs around Reginald’s thighs, crossing his ankles under Reginald’s butt.

Edwin took over the fucking, fucking himself on Reginald’s cock with the strength of his thigh muscles.

Reginald scrabbled at his gloves, ripping them off, wanting to feel the flesh of the young man’s firm skin. One hand went to one of Edwin’s nipples; the other to Edwin’s cock.

Edwin moaned for him and sucked on his tongue. Reginald moaned right back.

They broke the kiss, but only long enough for Edwin to cough twice—little, pain-faced coughs—and to plead, “I feel so weak. It would be better on the bed. Or we could stop.”

Reginald growled. He was in high heat. There would be no stopping.