I slide my hands down his chest, feeling the firm curves of muscle beneath my fingers. His jockstrap is tight and warm, and it’s not long before I feel his rigid cock push against me, urging me to explore further. With every stroke I deliver, the jockstrap slides lower and lower, giving me direct access to the throbbing beauty that lies beneath.
Browsing: jock
He swept me into his body and my head crashed against his hard chest as his amorous grip skillfully traveled up my back, his wanderlust hands pushing and pulling in sync with the tip of his tongue that roamed my mouth, like an explorer’s. I craved to feel more, I wanted him to take me away from reality.
His fingers found his best mate’s tight muscles, exploring his strength, pressing gently before forceful thrusting filled the room with their shared heat. They travelled to places neither imagined, their hard cocks slick and throbbing in Mike’s strong surprises as they collapsed in a shower of sweat and kisses that were as intimate as they were forbidden.
He couldn’t keep his eyes off me. As soon as I walked through the door I felt the heat of his hungry gaze as his eyes lingered over my body. All I could think was one thing: ‘Get ready to fly, Hotshot Hawk’.
He strolled into the club, a sleek Adonis, reeking of raw sex appeal. His body was tight, pumped like a prize fighter’s, and his swagger was an erotic promise of pleasure. His gaze panned across the room, stirring desire in even the most tattered and cynical of hearts. He had come to slake his primal urge and, as always, his call would be answered.
He spread my legs wide with a firmer grip than expected. He began to thrust deep, stroking my yearning hole with a fire and vigor unmatched. His expert motions hurled me over the edge of pleasure and I shuddered in delight. Sweat glistened off his chest as I tensed with each thrust and stroke, feeling his hot breath against mine as I clawed into his back. We became one, consumed with passion and pleasure.
Standing in front of the mirror, my palms were sweating and my heart was pounding. I can see myself, now glistening with sweat–the one in the selfies that I can’t help but crave. My jock obsession has taken control, and I can’t deny my desire any longer. I must take this erotic journey.
Sweat beads run down his chest as he thrusts his body towards me, my skin touching his, muscles throbbing, hearts pounding in unison. His jock selfies were such a tease, now here I am, melting into the reality of his heat, peeling off boundaries between us with my hands, exploring his body in its purest, most natural form.
The jock selfie was a thing of beauty: smooth flesh that begged to be touched, firm muscles that shivered under my fingertips, and a hardness that ached to be pleased. I moved closer, feeling an animal hunger for the man behind the photo, wanting his body and his heart in every way imaginable.
His jock was like an unlocked door waiting to be explored. I took my time, slipping my hands beneath the fabric and feeling the heat of his desire against my fingertips. With each gentle touch and kiss, I felt myself unlocking more and more of his hidden desires, until I could feel him quivering with pleasure. His jock was my key to pleasure.