Afternoon at the beach. And, no, this is not the gay beach. How can you can tell? Easy: by the absence of wannabes, selfie-sticks, and single fat chicks. Oh yes I did!
No tan lines on either of us
...but who's complaining!
A curious log concerning my goings-on in the curious, queer, and scandalous industry of illicit sex...and then, sometimes, what happens off camera too. Wicked.
Hello! There I am butt naked with ¼ of dick in his mouth
I stood over him sensuously grinding his mouth full of head
Porn watchers are probably the largest, truest 'silent majority'Will the anti-condom arguments about the discomfiture of latex friction, its plastic taste, the un-natural feel during what only a juvenile or idiot mistakes as natural sex between typically endowed people in immaculately white high-ceiling mansions, and, get ready, freedom of speech persuade a voter bloc already trained to side with safety & security initiatives? After all, who can seriously oppose health and safety! Porn watchers are probably the largest truest 'silent majority' ever but will even these devoted secret perverts be convinced by the Industry's plans when they slide into the voting booth this fall?
I warmed up the audience with a little posing & flexing before Ian complemented the routine with muscle worship. In short order the tiny Colombian was on his knees tugging at my gym shorts and worshipping the only muscle on every faggot's mind (the boy gives good head! To see him in action is to know he loves big dicks). Soon I was rock-hard and snacking on that ass; that smooth shaven-horny-just made for fucking-ass. So that's what we did! I went to town on that muscle bottom...fucked the nervousness right out of him. You should have seen it. Before the curtain closed Ian had forgotten all about the live audience. Promise fulfilled. Booyah!