He’d watched the college kids and he’d watched the townies. They were dancing he’d decided. Not dancing, but dancing: an interaction, a way of r...lating. He’d sat there with his beer in one hand and his cigarette in the other. Whatever he’d taken from Joel earlier in the night had left him a visitor in his own flesh. Emotionless and void, bringing him face to face with himself. It was frightening. He’d known then what his problem was. That evening’s epiphany. He was so fucking bored. So. His sweat is dripping onto my chest, he wiped his forehead multiple times and stroked me using his sweat as lube while pumping into me. Shit was sexy and i was turned on like crazy. He put both hands around my legs, hands on top of my thighs near my waist and worked his dick in with me sliding up and down the ottoman. He would slam into me sliding me back and pull me back into his cock making my toes curl something sonderful. I just glided back and forth with little to no effort. After a good. More

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