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Trading fire for bj. tounge in need of workoutI moved over to the syringes. I took a packaged alcohol swab and pre-filled syringe. I sat on the bed next to him so he could feel me, yet not know what was about to happen to him next. I opened the alcohol swab and grabbed the head of his cock to pull it as and taut as it would go, then rubbed the alcohol swab along the side of his cock and plunged the syringe into the shaft. He whimpered some and I asked him if he wanted to end the scene. He made a whiney “noooo” so I retrieved the other syringe and walked around to the other side of the bed. I again pulled his cock and taut, and plunged the syringe into the other side of his cock, plunging its content into the shaft. I released the ropes from his legs and arms to rearrange his position so that his knees were up on his shoulders and his ass was at the edge of the bed. There was an irrigation syringe with a tube that ran into a jar of lube. I snapped on 2 latex gloves and dipped the fingertips into the lube to slime up his puckered hole. I pulled the irrigation syringe full of lube through the tube and slid the tube up his ass, emptying the lube into him. Then I stepped into the strap-on. I worked first the head in then the entire thick 8 inch length slamming it into him over and again. After this went on for a while, he begged me to let him cum, but I kept telling him I couldn’t hear him through the ball gag. Luckily the leather hood was still on so he couldn’t how pleased I was that he was so frustrated, both physiy and mentally. I finally withdrew and secured his cock and balls with a 3 loop cock ring and instructed him to “finish himself off.” When he finished, I released him and stood him straight up, at which time I mummified his entire body in the blue wrap, except for the leather hood. I left him like that for a bit before cutting him out with a scissors. I was there a total of 5 hours and this is an overview of what happened. But a good time was had by all. I apologize for the posts but hey, you don’t HAVE to read them all. *Smile professional dating service
hot straight lonely guy needs a sleeping buddy Here’s a little story I made just for fun…. Sort of a ‘communing with nature’ story. I’d like to take you for a walk in the woods on a clear, crisp fall day. It’s about 55 outside and in the clear air you can forever. The trees are mainly evergreens, pines and spruce with some scattered birch and poplar, and the air smells like each little breeze has blown through every bough. The is high in the sky, warming us slightly whenever we’re not in shadow. We’re dressed comfortably – jeans and sweatshirt for me; jeans, light cotton shirt and jacket for you. The trail we’re following meanders through thick woods, skirts a swamp on one side and eventually leads to a large grassy hillside. The warms us. I’m already warm I’ve been following you as we walk, watching your hips sway with each step. I’ve been anticipating this very moment. I suggest that we take a break here on the hillside in the. We walk over to a large stump, about feet across and two feet high. The perfect size for us to sit and rest our backs against. We sit, and I’m again amazed at your, your economy of movement and my pure, dumb-blind luck at being here with you today. I have plans for you, but for the moment we simply share a bottle of water and watch an circling over the creek below. I mention something about being warm – I truly am – and you agree and ask me to assist in removing your jacket. Not a seductive request, just a “would you hold the cuff while I pull my arm out” request. I comply, and can’t stop myself from telling you how beautiful you look here on my hillside. “Your hillside?”, you ask. This is a national we’re in, after all. I explain that this was one of my favorite hunting spots back when I hunted more often.
Amalia New Mexico women intimate encounter tonight I imagine I’ll that pickled Chinaman’s head on my death bed. It was that real. Large and round inky pupils that sparkled. They looked right through me as I put my nose to the jar. His cheeks were sunken, like someone had taken a round before rigor mortis set in and pushed it in, with the aim of emphasizing the size of his worn and chipped and very yellow teeth. The gums were deeply ridged, dark and purple and haunting to my eyes in the poorly lit room. He had a lot of hair, and it stood up straight, like a punk kid all dressed in black. The head was in an oily substance that at turns was clear and cloudy, and now and again I thought I saw seeds floating around his gruesome, smiling face. I had no idea what made the seeds move about. I imagined his neurons were letting off gases. I couldn’t his neck, and I was puzzled why. I asked the guerrilla (I think he was a guerrilla) with the rifle standing behind me if I could tilt the jar to where they’d made the cut with the machete, or sword, or whatever was used. He answered me by moving the barrel of the rifle into my ribs and forcing me away from the Chinaman’s pickled head.
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