I can’t ignore the electricity that courses through me when looking at his picture. His bare chest is exposed, showing his soft and hairy body. My pulse quickens and I can feel my groin tightening, aching with desire as I imagine what it would feel like to caress and kiss him. His perfect form – a twisted, tantalizing mix of masculinity and softness.
Browsing: #feminism
He had been pushing against me since we left the station, longing to feel my lips sucked hard against his, and cleave his warm fleshy shaft between them. His eyes sparkled with desire as he thrust–coming faster and faster until he finally flooded my eager throat. His cum was my reward, the most delicious complimentary experience on the railway.
He was–what else could I say?–a beautiful work of art, all the way down to his smooth, slim waist, down to the soft, inviting contours of his perfect ass, illuminated by the sultry moonlight. My lips trembled with the anticipation of finding out what was hidden beneath his scant, sheer clothing. I wanted more than a photographic glimpse of his body; I wanted the real thing.