A selfie of a guy with a slight smirk, tousled hair, and an unbuckled belt was all I needed to propel me into a state of pure, unmitigated pleasure. Taking my time, I savored each second of my own exploration as I stepped inside my own vivid imagination. My hands coarsely caressing my body in ways I never imagined I ever could, I felt overwhelmed yet energized by the sensations that flooded me.
Browsing: #J.D. Salinger
He opened the door and half-grinned knowingly at me, casual but seductive. I felt my breath leaving me and my heart racing. His body was like a work of art, toned and tight with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. His gaze was fixed on me, alive with carnal hunger, and I knew what was coming next. My pulse throbbed in anticipation.
He pushed me to the floor and together we tumbled into a world of pleasure. His hands assaulted my body in all the right ways and I was soon panting with desire. His skin felt like silk over my own and soon I was consumed by an urgent passion that neither of us could resist. Together we explored the hottest, most primal desires a man can have, burning with ecstasy.
He sent me a selfie of his buff body, his piercing eyes and that devilish grin. I wanted him, I wanted to touch every inch of him. I wanted to hear him moan and tap the depths of my soul. I followed him home and we made love in a way that only the two of us could; deepening our connection of gay love and lust.
He lay there, divinely still, his cock erect, mesmerized as his hands roamed, exploring every inch of his body while his eyes feasted on the nude, searingly-hot selfies of the hottie he had matched with earlier. Lost in rapture, he incited a symphony of pleasure as he stroked himself to the same rhythm of the man on the other side of the screen. This ritual of solo lust was as alluring as Salinger’s prose.