Behind Dead Eyes (Part One)
The throb of the satellite radio caused the lights to move to beat. I topped the stairs and could see his tall, lithe body as a shadow. We closed the gap, hesitated for a moment to see each other and then began to kiss.
His lips were supple, almost betraying by how little real estate they occupied his face. But his tongue had a lizard-like quality. Darting into the recesses of my mouth and finding everything that I hid there. I swallowed my gum before he could scoop it up.
I pulled his body close to mine. Despite its thinness, I felt almost no bone. It had a sinew quality, almost snake-like.
While I was not in the Garden of Eden. Far from it. I was in an adult bookstore in Atlanta. I felt almost as if this were my temptation to take a bite of the apple.
Wait a moment.
I’d already bitten. To me, there would be no doubt. This temptation was too great. I wanted this man or devil or whatever mystery he held.
I cupped his incredible ass through the tight jeans and knew that this would be a fuck never to forget.
We found a vacant room and closed the door and locked it.
Our kissing resumed and, in something as close to romantic as I get, we slowly undressed. I felt every inch of his smooth skin. His short, curly brown hair provided enough length to grab it in a fist but something prevented me.
What the fuck?
Was I losing my edge?
I mean, this little fucker wanted to be used by me. We’d met on BarebackRT.com and he knew exactly what a twisted mindfuck I’d provide, as he’d found this blog first then sought me out on that hook-up site. Yet here I am, tenderly kissing a little slut and enjoying the fuck out of it.
* * *
‘Shut up.’
‘What do you mean shut up?’
‘I mean,’ the internal dialog continues. ‘Shut the fuck up! There’s a hardon! What the fuck does it matter whether we actually treat this one like all the others or not.’
‘It matters,’ the other voice says. ‘There’s a reputation to uphold. There’s no fucking tenderness to fucking. Fuck! Dump cum! Go!’
‘That’s the encounters that are written about,’ the voice points out. ‘What about all the breedings that don’t get an entry.’
‘Some of them are pretty brutal.’
‘And some of them are not.’
A new voice enters: ‘How about all of you shut the fuck up!’
* * *
His skin feels like silk and that tongue — fucking hell, that tongue! I can’t wait to feel it on my body. He’s not wearing any underwear.
With our pants down around our knees, he kneels to begin sucking. I can now feel the full talent of his tongue across the entire based of my throbbing seven inches. He looks up at me, his deep brown eyes look up wanting… something. His mouth open. His oval face staring up and seeming to ask for a kind of approval. I just put my hand gently into his soft curls and guide him onto my cock.
I close my eyes and lose myself a moment, just concentrating on the sensation of him, his mouth, it’s motion up and down on my cock. He’s pretty good. Blowjobs generally lack a je ne sais quoi about them and cannot get me off. I try to find something remarkable about his. I mean, his tongue is longer than most and he’s doing a better than average job. But it’s just not all that great. But I love feeling his hair in my right hand.
* * *
‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’
‘Huh?’
‘You’re actually noticing how his hair feels?’ the voice says. ‘How gay is that?’
‘Shut up.’
‘You’re getting soft in your old age.’
‘Shut the fuck up!’
* * *
I lifted him up and we kissed a moment before pushing him down to a doggie position. That’s when his ass opened up to me and I saw the brownish gray pucker for the first time.
His ass overall was graced with peach fuzz hair in a light brown. Interestingly, it seemed as if someone had groomed the little hair follicles perfectly as they lay in a starburst pattern around his hole. I didn’t approach with my normal caution.
With most bottoms, you wonder if he might be clean. Even if you know he’s washed up, you wonder just how well. But with him, my tongue went lapping at his hole and only tasted the sweetness of his flesh.
His hand began slapping the leatherette mattress in this dimly lit sex den and he moaned.
The hairs of his ass were so very soft, as if he’d conditioned them. I’d never licked hairs so soft. Hairs below the waist can be wiry and stiff. But his were like cashmere yarn. As I ran my fingertips along his crack and pried him open more for my tongue to dart into the damp hole, I continued exploring to find the fine hairs of his balls and pubes were equally fine and soft.
I smelled him and found the scent undeniable.
* * *
‘You’re a fucking moron.’
‘What?’
‘He smells good?’ the voice toys. ‘What next? China patterns?’
‘Fuck off,’ the other voice responds. ‘It’s fun.’
‘Fun?’ the voice slaps back. ‘You’re going to be pussy whipped.’
* * *
With enough ass eating, it’s so juicy that I know my cock will slide inside. So I stand. He slips off his shoes and pants. I remove my pants too, finding some poppers in the pockets for him, tossing it beside his outstretched hand where’s it’s continued to slap the mattress. Soon we’re both naked and I’m slicking up my cock with more of my spit. I put it at his hole and push.
He takes a hit off the poppers. The head of my cock is soon inside him.
He’s breathing hard. But his ass is backing up. And my cock slides further inside. Until all of it is inside him.
“You wanted that ass,” he says.
“You bet I did,” I respond.
I begin fucking in earnest. I twist my hips and arch my back. I change my pace. I find angles. I want him to enjoy it as well.
* * *
‘Why the fuck does he need to enjoy it?’ the voice says.
‘So he’ll come back for more.’
‘Why the fuck does that matter?’
‘Because,’ the other voice says, ‘I want this ass again.’
‘It’s not like there aren’t other asses out there,’ the voice says. ‘Younger, tighter asses.’
‘But this is different.’
‘No. It isn’t.’
* * *
“I want you to breed my ass,” he says, breaking my introspection.
“You want my load?” I can’t deny his ass is fucking fantastic. I really don’t need poppers to pop one off. But poppers do make it feel so much better. As I fuck him, sliding into his silky hole, feeling it grip my cock, he occasionally squeezes it.
Oh I want to unload.
“Yes,” he says, practically breathless.
“Or do you want this to last?”
“Cum whenever you want,” he responds. “Just make sure I get your load.”
I keep fucking, focusing on the sensation of his ass. Occasionally I run my hands along his lithe body, his smooth skin. Perfect. A body of perfection.
I’ve fucked a lot of beautiful men in my life. Muscular. Models. But this one. Something was different.
I had to stop thinking, stop intellectualizing and focus on the task at hand:
Breeding ass.
As I looked down at the dim light, I could see my spit-lubed cock sliding in and out of that pucker. And I just couldn’t hold back any longer. I reached for the poppers, found them and took a huge snort.
“Want my load?”
“Yessss!”
I picked up the pace.
“Tell me you want it!”
“Please breed my hole!”
I could feel his hole twitch at the words and the pinpoint of the poppers began to drive me toward my orgasm.
Another pump into his ass, his raw ring around my cock, sensing every little bit of it touching me. Feeling his urging me on, backing up into my thrusts, begging for it now.
“Please give me your cum.”
I was grunting now, going into that place where I disappear and only my cock lives. My cock and cum. Boiling. Reaching that fever pitch that would bring it in a surge, breaking through a barrier. I could feel it like a tsunami inside, bursting though some plug. This was one of those loads. I’d obviously built it up over time and somewhere along its pipeline path, it met resistance and now was bursting through. I felt both pain and pleasure at once.
His ass clenched. I think I am screaming. Or grunting. Or making some sort of noise.
My cum is slamming into his ass walls, surging out of my cock. The pain is a distant memory and now all I feel is relief.
I remember to move a little as my cock throbs in his ass. I want to make sure he knows I’m painting the inside of his ass with my cum. My DNA. That this perfect little specimen of a man will know his perfection has been ruined by this geek.
But I’m still recovering from the intensity of the initial moments. The cum is still flooding out. I can feel it around the head of my cock and down the sides. I fuck a little and the sensation of a “squish” comes.
The popper blindness recedes and I’m breathing hard.
That was one of the most intense orgasms ever.
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Virtual Words and a Vibration
Nothing more than the feel of vibration. The notion of an arrival of a text message. Your stomach gets a little knot. Could it be? Is it from?
No. Just a friend checking in.
Returning your iPhone to your pocket, it vibrates once. It’s just an e-mail. You relax. But then you think, it could be an e-mail from him. Naw. He’d text me. Not e-mail.
Still, it bugs the back of your mind until you check it later.
Finally, on a bathroom break, you send the obligatory, “How’s your day going?” message.
Not much communication during the day. Sporadic bursts of intense messages with long delays in between. Then that night-time, battery-draining flurry.
The night-time. That’s what you live for. That’s what you wait for. That’s what you wish for. That’s what you hope won’t stop.
For the day the vibration stops is the day you’re afraid he’s moved on to something more real. Something that’s not virtual. Something that won’t fit into a pocket. Something not cold, metal and plastic and glass.
Something flesh, warm and pliable.
And even then you’re afraid he’ll return to the promise of the other choices that are virtual and vibrational. The things not connected to you.
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The Last 15 of My List of 45 Random Things
Celebrating the 45th Anniversary of the Last Time I Touched a Vagina
Today is the big day! If you’re wondering about the previous parts of this list, please check out 45 to 31 and 30 to 16.
15. The closest I’ve gotten to a female vagina was children’s clay
If you think I’m joking about it being 45 years since I physically touched a female vagina, I’m not. In fact, I might not have touched the vagina since there’s a chance I was a C-Section baby (don’t know for sure; I’m adopted).
When I turned 30, some straight friends of mine were teasing me about the clam and decided I needed to learn more about it. So grabbing what was handy, they took some children’s clay, molding the inner and outer lips along with the clitoris to try and explain to me how to perform cunnilingus.
Funny thing. They didn’t want to hear how to give a good blowjob.
14. Monogamy isn’t a part of me
Choosing to be with one person is a social construct. It’s not instinctual. Watch Jerry Springer to figure out human nature at it’s most basic is to run wild and fuck everything (and to occasionally get a nice blowjob from a tranny). Okay, so Jerry Springer might not speak to social norms but I know it’s not normal for me to be with just one person.
13. Unlucky?
What’s luck got to do with it? In a way, I don’t believe in luck, fate or otherwise. But still there’s this cosmic fate in our lives. It seems every once in a while we deserve a slap-down for something or another. Sounds a little too philosophical, right?
12. What to do with the BBBH.org site.
Believe me, I am pumped by the overall success of the Bareback Brotherhood and very proud to be one of the cofounders of the BBBH movement. But I’ve invested as much money as I can into the site and the next step is virtual servers and rebuilding the site completely on another platform to get it to function more quickly. I can’t do it on my own (and even with the help of the other dedicated cofounders, we don’t have the resources).
11. More bottoms need to learn to be service oriented
I find more and more that bottoms are rather demanding. Isn’t that the top’s job? More often than not, the bottom wants it this way or that.
It’s so funny to hear a bottom proclaim, “I really like a selfish top.”
Then as I declare myself one, the real selfish one comes forward. “You need to come over,” he’ll demand. “And I need to sit on it first. And don’t get any lube on my sheets.”
10. Is it me or is Grindr biased against older men?
If I put “top” in my profile, I get censored. Hell, in less than six hours, my profile is down even if I hint at my position. If I even put anything remotely humorous or sexual, Grindr slams me. But I see dozens of younger men who put “top” or “bottom” in their profile and Grindr leaves it up without a problem. Grindr leaves all kinds of shit up with young men.
But not with older men. Not at all. If you’re past 40, you can’t get away with it.
9. Gloryholes are fucking hot
I love them.
8. Gummy bears are the bomb
I like them better than chocolate.
7. Lucky!
So far this year in 2012, it’s been a good one.
6. Someday, if I’m a big executive, I want to sexually harass without consequence
I’ve always wanted that kind of assistant. I promise that I’d make sure he was well compensated.
5. I embrace being a geek
Gotta admit, I don’t mind it any more. When I was younger, it was difficult to admit I was intelligent. But now, I love being a geek.
4. I have to admit now. Forty-five is getting old.
And don’t give me “it’s just a number” bullshit. Half-way to 90. And 90 is pushing it for being really old. I kind of doubt that’s the maximum age potential. I mean, if I were to turn 90, it would be May 1, 2057. Bristol Palin could be president. Who wants to be alive for that?
3. I don’t watch live TV except in hotels
Thank goodness for TiVo. Someone should invent a kind of DVR for hotels. Or someone needs to put high-definition Apple TVs and Hulu in every room.
2. I fucked on my birthday
A muscle bear (blond at that) got a load from me today.
1. Even if I am over the hill, I fuck damn well
Time breeds experience. My experience breeds ass fucking so damn good.
You ought to try me out if you haven’t… BBRT or HMU.
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Forty-Five Random List…
…for Mark Bentson’s Forty-Fifth Year (Part 1 of 3)
To mark this moderately important milestone in my lifetime — halfway to 90, which means I’m most certainly over the hill and speeding toward a furnace to turn me into ashes that will then be scattered here, there and everywhere to celebrate the clandestine debauchery of my life. But let’s focus on the here and now, the hedonism of the moment. Here begins part one of three of my Forty-Five Random List.

45. Fuck a porn star
I can’t begin a list without the wish that continues on despite repeated tries. I want to fuck a porn star. Please. This past year has seen promising moments with opportunities that has come close including promises from two, rather significant big-name porn stars.
One with whom volunteered to take my load but fell in love and moved off to be with his new boyfriend. The other I bribed and he took the gifts and ran off to be with his new boyfriend with whom he’d just fallen in love.
Now that I’m traveling to Northern California and the San Francisco Bay area, I’d hoped that perhaps I might just luck up on an actor or two. Nonesuch. So my desire goes on.
44. Get Medallion status on Delta
Okay, what an odd goal, but I’ve been flying so much and I’m stuck in steerage with everyone else. And so far, I have yet to sit by anyone hot or even a decent looking straight guy. Every plane ride seems to be another female, another old sixtysomething retiree with his golden-age wife, a mother with her four-year-old or a school mar’m. Why can’t I get one hottie?
I doubt Medallion status will help much with that, but it will at least help assure I get a little more legroom and a possible upgrade or two. Long-time readers will know I’ve been hoping for this for a while. I will achieve it (for sure) this year. But if anyone has the inside track on helping me get upgrades, show me some love!
43. More fucking on travel
As simple as that. I attempted something in Las Vegas that didn’t work: I solicited someone to be my regular cum dump. And while I had no trouble finding ass to fuck, sometimes the pursuit of ass gets boring. Good thing Vegas brought a stock of tourists and locals worth breeding (and even enough with whom to have an orgy).
Yet, still, I crave an easy come-over-bend-over-and-be-bred kind of guy. I’ve got a couple of men who I can contact if I’m ever in a lurch or a dry spell while at home. I’d like that on the road.
42. & 41. Yoga & Weight Loss
I am not someone to goes to the local Y and signs up for a class. I don’t hit any old gym. Teaching me anything physical requires a special talent and I seek out people. Like my trainer late last year (as seen pictured here). I expect people helping me to be in shape themselves (yes, I’ve seen trainers who need a bit of help).
My former trainer was great, if not tragically straight. And despite some of my own misgivings, I signed up with him. But I have a few things that just do not work for me. First, he must keep me motivated. He did so, to a certain extent. But he never really followed through on additional promises to keep on me outside the gym (for which I paid him extra, I might add).
Second, he’s got to be the example I look up to every day. And when he started posting unhealthy things to his Facebook, I had to take a step back some. He stopped motivating me. It all came crashing down.
And my weight came up after losing so much.
But here’s what I learned about myself. The nutritional diet he put me on required a lot of psychological fortitude, which I somehow managed. And while my body didn’t always obey, it did provide some form of willingness to begin getting in shape. Shape which I have not lost completely.
And so, with both those, I want to step more into a yoga situation. But I want someone to work with me individually to set me on the right course for success. I’ve become convinced of the mind-body connection…
40. Stop chewing my nails
I know. Bad habit. I’d just about stopped it but some bumpy flights of late got me started again. I guess a nervous habit. Or I’m just nervous.
39. Upgrade my iPad
Have you seen the Retina display on the new one? (Although it’s not called an iPad 3, that’s basically what it is.) It makes my iPad, bought the first day of the original launch look like a low-resolution, piece of crap.
38. Massage me everywhere
When I lived in Washington, D.C., I had the hottest Filipino with the best muscle body who would come over once or twice a week and work out the kinks. Then in Georgia, I found a spa that had a lovely little Asian boy who helped me out too. Those two both gave great massages and both provided happy endings.
Love a good massage with a good happy endings.
Then I ended up with a great massage therapist but he was a straight Latino. Although very cool with the whole Gay thing, he wouldn’t bother to touch my cock and, no matter how much money was promised and how much goading. Nonetheless, I kept going to him and enjoying the massage part. It was therapeutic.
But he’s moved out of the area and now I’m without a decent massage therapist.
I’ve been looking and trying out a few people. Not a lot of luck so far. I’ve had decent results but nothing remarkable.
Moreover, when I visit other cities, am finding it very difficult to get therapists there to respond and be accommodating.
If you’re a therapist in the San Francisco Bay or Atlanta area (and you’re good), please let me know. Happy endings appreciated but not required. However, I do prefer good-looking non-smokers.
37. Better shoes
I need some. Hard to find. Right now I’m still in two-year-old Old Navy top-siders and six-year-old Rockport sandals.
36. “Read” more for work
Notice I put “read” in quotation marks, as my long commute to work allows me a lot of time to listen to books. Unfortunately, since getting my new car, I’ve been listening to Sirius XM more than anything (my favorite channel is Raw Dog comedy, Channel 99; coincidental it’s got “raw” in the title, huh?). I should be listening to more books.
35. Speaking of Sirius XM, please stop Derek & Romaine
They’re on OutQ, the Gay channel. They attempt to dispense advice to the masses about sex and gay life but neither of whom is qualified in any way, shape or form. Derek is just a prude. And he’s an asshole prude. Sometimes he’s so rude to people I’m amazed anyone bothers to listen to him. Both of them wouldn’t bother to even entertain the concept that barebacking is truly an option. I’ve even heard Romaine have a fit about men with hairy asses being horrible.
Additionally, they barely plan a show and talk about their personal lives as if anyone really gives a shit.
Please, they’ve been on the air too long. Get that shit off the air.
34. Going strong on no jacking off
Every load I’ve shot in 2012 has gone in someone. It’s gone in an ass or a mouth (and it’s rare for it to be a mouth).
33. It’s been 420 for me, finally
In my list of 43 Arbitrary Things when I turned 43, number 21 mentions I’ve never tried the infamous 420. Pot. Mary Jane. Wacky tabacky. Weed. And because of my opposition to smoking, I’ve never smoked pot. I still have never smoked pot. With research and some experimentation (hint to the right), I finally got to discover what the big deal was all about.
It wasn’t a big deal.
Made me even more convinced that (sorry for a little politics) that the stuff should be legalized.
32. More rollercoasters and amusement parks
It’s already been a good year for it. I want to make it a great year.
31. Did you read this?
Why haven’t my readers been commenting? I’m still getting almost 1,200 visitors a day but lately, you fuckers have been quiet. Speak up!
Don’t miss the next part… 30 to 16…. tomorrow.
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Travel Diary: Fuck Fest in Sin City
I began my little adventure in Vegas with a fuck fest, inviting several over to my hotel room.
An orgy is something like a soup. You dump a lot of ingredients into a pot, add some heat and hope the flavors meld together.
As with any culinary experiment, some things don’t go perfectly the first time around. But some things do. The Asian and his top friend (I believe more like a boyfriend) who arrived first turned out to be quite a pair. If you find the ass photo appealing, you don’t know the half of it.
I’ve had bossy bottoms before. Generally, they break down into two categories:
- Prissy.
- Prissy bitchy.
He was neither. All man. All Asian. All bottom. All smooth. All hot. And he knew what he wanted. Three of us in the room, two of them tops. There were way too many people with clothes and fuck if he was going to put up with that shit.
His humor was captivating. I really enjoy someone who knows that sex can’t be too serious.
The other top, like me, had a geekish appeal. But in this case, he had a much larger cock. A little shorter than me with glasses and a bit socially awkward.
And both these guys had invited others over to join the fun.
I was starting to like them both.
We were admiring the view out of my 24th floor windows. Naked. My cock brushing up against Asian’s ass.
“You’re getting right down to business, aren’t you?” the Top remarked.
“We’re here to fuck,” Asian snapped back.
About that time, a light knock came at the door.
“It’s Room Service!” the Asian said with delight and headed over to answer.
In walked a 22-year-old Malaysian. He was thin, small-framed with extraordinarily large nipples and a decent sized cock. He claimed to be versatile in the correspondence we’d had.
He proceeded to disrobe as we moved to the bed. Asian had added lube to my cock and I’d just barely entered inside him when the initial knock came. But now I laid on my back and Asian sat down firmly on my cock.
If I’ve said it once, I will say it again. There’s nothing so wonderful as Asian ass. Smooth on the outside, incredibly tight and warm on the inside. As I glided inside, I reached up and played with his wide, muscular chest and tweaked his dark brown nipples.
Soon the Top friend kneeled behind him and I felt his cock near mine.
It’s one of those sensations I truly enjoy. Two cocks, together, probing the same hole. His pube hairs tickling mine. Oh fuck. It brought me so damn close as we each took turns sliding into the Asian’s ass.
Asian proved to be a talented bottom but not accommodating enough to be double fucked.
Meanwhile, the Malaysian lounged on the bed, stroking. He didn’t engage closely. The Top encouraged him into play at one point, hoping him to fuck the Asian, when suddenly the bottom needed a break.
A knock at the door.
“Room Service!” this time, the chime came from the Top, who answered it.
A slender Black top entered. He began to disrobe as I fucked as I attempted to engage the Malaysian. We kissed. His lips were full and his kisses were indeed amazing. His lithe body squirmed in delight as I stroked his respectable seven inches and brushed against his balls. But when I tapped at his backdoor, he backed away.
“Not my asshole,” he said.
So much for versatility.
I stepped away and re-engaged with the Asian, who by now was hungry for cock again. I’d heard him mumbling with his Top friend about me cumming in his ass.
“No, I’m sure he shot a load in there,” the Asian had said.
So as I entered him, I asked him about it.
He acknowledged he thought he had a load. I told him not yet.
“Haven’t you wondered why I call myself, ‘I blast inside’?” I said.
I pushed him down on the bed, flat onto his stomach, and began to pump him proper. He found the poppers and handed them to me. I took a big snort. Top appeared out of no where. And we both began asking questions.
“Do —you want my load?” I said.
“Yes,” Asian said.
“Tell me you want my load,” I insisted.
“I want you to fuck your cum into my ass,” Asian said.
“Can you feel his raw cock in your ass?” Top asked.
“Oh yea!” Asian said.
“You know he’s going to breed you, right?” Top asked.
“Please!!!” Asian said.
Through all this, I’m pumping and pumping even harder. And soon I am there.
“You’re about to get a really big cumload!” I grunted.
“Oh fuck yea!” Asian said, as he arched his back and thrust his ass up toward my cock.
I went deep and began to throb as I let loose a torrent of cum, coating the insides of his chute and then pumping a little to make sure anyone else — anyone who came along in the future — would know that I had been here and bred this Asian ass.
In this moment, in the silence between seconds, the Asian let out this little sigh.
This boy was made for breeding.
As I recovered, three more men entered. An older white man and his young dark black man. They would stand in a corner and kiss before leaving on their own, ever attempting to integrate with the main group.
The other was a tall, dirty blond versatile with one of those wide, junk-in-the-trunk asses we all know and love. He soon stripped down while the duo went to kissing in a corner.
Now, as I said, an orgy is all about melding of flavors and we had plenty of flavors in the room. At this point, the duo were stuck like glue to one another. I sat between the naked Malaysian and recent Black arrival. And the new tall Dirty Blond was kissing on Top and Asian in a third group. I needed to see some cross-pollination.
I sucked on the Black guy a bit and he sucked on me. I encouraged him toward the center of the room when the duo, who’d barely disrobed, now announced they were leaving.
That prompted Malaysian to start putting on his clothes.
But I successfully got Black man and his nine-incher to the center of the room. While my Asian — already with a nut up his butt — didn’t seem inclined to take him, the Dirty Blond soon was getting fucked and, well, the versatile produced a respectable thick eight-incher that Asian did bend over for in a flash.
The three-way fuck was hot as hell but the duo and Malaysian still left.
Within moments, the Black top let it be known he was close. And soon the grunts were matched and the Black man let loose a gigantic load into Dirty Blond’s ass.
How do I know?
Well, fuck, now I was hard again! I churned that shit up. His ass was such a cummy mess when I entered it and I fucked it more into him. My Asian bottom, hearing the comments, came around to check it out, popped and boner and displaced me. He rammed his cock inside and within moments, added his spunk to the mix.
The Black man fucked the Dirty Blond some more as I licked one nipple and the Asian the other to try and help the Dirty Blond cum, but it just wasn’t his day. Still, I think we all went home very, very happy.
Or at least, that’s how it seemed to me.
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