“Fuck me,” he whispered against Ange’s mouth.
Hands touched Stacy’s face, eager fingers finding their way into his mouth. Stacy suckled Ange’s fingertips, one at a time, then shook them away to press his lips to his friend’s again. Ange’s hands eased down to grasp at Stacy’s buttocks, lifting the pliant muscles up as he pulled Stacy to him, closer, until his dick ached where it ground against the bulging front of Ange’s jeans. His ass warmed in Ange’s hands and he arched back, pushing into those working palms, clenching himself tight.
Then one of Ange’s fingers slipped inside him, almost cold compared to the inferno raging within, and Stacy pushed away from the door, pushed back against his friend’s hand, taking more of him in. Another finger entered, his legs slipped further apart, only stopping when the jeans went taut at his knees. He bucked in front of Ange, no longer quite touching him, his dick a hard rod stabbing the air between them as long fingers curled inside.