Dripping with sweat as we stood under the strobing lights, his tight t-shirt clinging to his sculpted body, I could feel his thick muscles beneath my fingertips as I traced the definition of his hard chest. I wanted to explore every inch of his body, but tonight would just have to be a tease.
Browsing: #Salinger
He inhaled the electric atmosphere and felt his pulse quicken as he scrolled through the hot guys’ selfies. His imagination ran wild — every selfie a window into a new realm of raw, passionate encounters, exploring those sweaty perfect bodies in passionate detail. He smiled as the intimate connection between him and these hot guys ushered in a spectacularly erotic adventure.
His hot spunk burst in with a violent explosion, coating his chest in a sticky white cum. With a firm grip, he grabbed the broad, hard shaft. My eyes widened as I felt its power as it filled my hand, and I gasped at its sheer girth and strength. Salinger-style erotica had never felt so intensely alive.
I saw him in the photograph, shirtless and beautiful, his muscles flexing, his hand cupped around his hardening cock. He was the one, and I needed him desperately. I imagined myself being with him, feeling his skin against mine, and I pleasured myself as I longed for him. That was when I realized: I wasn’t just wanking to win someone else’s love, but to my own.
He wrapped his pale fingers around that big hard dick, stroking it slowly as his tongue explored its contours and tasted its salty musk. His eyes glittered as he saw it grow harder and more aroused under his touch. Soon, the selfie started to seem like the hottest invitation of his life.
My heart raced as I entered the room, my eyes immediately focusing on his sweet hole, so inviting, so eager. With Salinger-like sensuality I let my fingers slide across his body, exploring every crevice. My desire escalating with every touch, I couldn’t wait to fill that sweet hole and feel him shudder beneath me in delight.
Crouching as if ready to pounce, I cracked open the envelope with my prize: a nude selfie of him, his body hot and ready, eager to be explored. I licked my lips with anticipation, aching for even the slightest taste of his silky, auburn skin. As my fingertips gently caressed each inch of his body, I felt the same electricity of a salacious Salinger striptease.
He couldn’t fight off his desire to reach out and touch the jock’s body. He gatecrashed his own imagination after surrendering to the inviting joy of every flexed muscle, like some forbidden entrance to salacious pleasure. Arousal burned inside him and the urge to explore deeper became his only motivation.
He could see the curves of his body, defined by the white cotton T-shirt clinging to his muscles. His eyes were dark, alluring pools, drawing him in. His selfie made him look utterly and irresistibly hot. John couldn’t take his eyes off him, and wanted more. Their lips met, and time stopped – they were lost in a world of lust and passion, forgotten to the rest of the world.
I’m captivated by selfies. They offer a tantalising glimpse of the beauty and sensuality of the young gay male, a peek into a secret world of desire, of connecting, of hunger barely contained in a single frame. My own obsession it all starts when I open the app and scroll endlessly, lured by eyes that promise to explore, by lips beckoning for me to taste them.