Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
Twitter
Best Male Blogs
About Me
Followers
Visitors to this Page
FEEDJIT Live Traffic Feed
People Online
Links
- HiperGayHot
- My So-called Str8life
- Coach is Gay
- Otter Baron
- FavGayPorn
- Man Collector
- Fit Studs
- The Male Casting Couch
- L'Homme Est Un Concept
- My Own Private Locker Room
- Supergdownload
- Adonis-Narcissus
- SFBarefeet
- Gay Barcelona Porn
- Flesh and Skin
- RafaelWorld
- Manspotting
- Beef Boots and Buttplugs
- Mariconerias de Uno
- Belleza Masculina
- Fagalicious
Blog Archive
-
▼
2008
(285)
-
▼
September
(29)
- Let's get soaking wet!
- Bigger
- Pistolero
- Delectable
- Top Notch
- Stand Tall
- Appealing
- Open WIDE!
- Spread 'em!
- Tie me up, tie me down
- Attention
- Tengo Hambre
- And god created Man
- Law of Desire
- Potential
- If you got it, flaunt it!
- Mouthful
- Rugged
- Primed
- Rigid
- Bottoms Up
- Forms of Perfection
- Bulges
- Fructueux
- Swoon
- In the Ruff
- Saucy Pups
- Lots to Share
- Back to School
-
▼
September
(29)
3 comments:
Horrors of male versatility, or blessings of the continuity of the penis feedback loop? You decide:
Here we were, all set to wrap consoling anus about the dulcet tapered dome of rampant cowboy pike, to glide it sumptuously to much extracted peace, when what should we discover, but that the prone collegian has a conspicuously fucky pair of guymolds of silken-clefted butt, to say nothing of an undoubted licky guytrap in there somewhere, seething to suck knob, which he's hauling open with his sweetly triceped arm for us, even as we speak.
Pause & regroup? Nope. What rhymes best with "L'audace, toujours l'audace'?
I had not thought to be met by the rugby guy's perfected cornucopia of penis in such ease, as to allow the symmetry of his sheath to resemble nothing so much as a cast, applied to heal a knob almost dislocated by a strenuousness of use.
How relieved I was, to find that this sublimely well tailored dick was only natural, must then be balanced against the strain to which I was instantly inspired to subject it, essentially substantiating my first surmise. Seldom, I fear, has my anus clawed so shamelessly the slide of swollen shaft, as to threaten the bulb of breaching battery with sweet detachment in my guts, but I'd been warned that rugby-ites play hard . . . Not before, I think, has the ripened plushy plum endured such maceration in fuck's compressing vortex, as to gush its baggaged spew in simple self-defense, as when I fucked that penis delta for its flood.
I can really recommend it!
On the T, Göteborg - home of the elastic leaf synchronous shutter in the delicious lenses of its Hasselblad camera - struck me as such an irresistibly promising message to project between these jauntily disposed extremities, that I truly had to inquire if the facing seat were taken. In what rush of oral flux my tongue then swam when I was bidden to accept it, you may suppose for yourself, for I could almost not speak for the feast I contemplated in that tanline's fair convergence.
Immediately, as lensmen without shame, we set about comparing focal lengths and diaphragm settings, lens hoods and filters, film planes and exposures, much to the elevation of our resolution to commemorate our shared enthusiasm.
But soon enough, one simply had to trace the supple lipline to discern if there were teeth, and better still a tongue to trap one's own as oysters glazing in their brine -- for we had a month with an 'r' in it again, and tongues were back in season, the succulent predicate of the finest male feast.
I'll spare you the full details of lunch, but as that bag of boldly braising balls did burst, and glaring bulbs of penis rent the air with shards of light, the gods themselves did weep to fix the image in their sight.
You get to Sweden, check him out.
Post a Comment