I just left the bathhouse. That was hot. After that experience, there is a spring in my step.
I was sitting in the TV room with the towel twisted into a rope and draped around my neck. The room was busy, but I wasn’t paying attention to who was there. My eyes were fixed on my favourite porn star making long strokes in and out of some pretty muscle-bear’s hole. It gripped and gaped at all the right moments.
My dick was rock hard. My left hand is rubbing my chest, tweaking my nipples, and one foot is up on the seat next to my ass. I can feel my hole twitch as the air hits it; my fat glutes spread due to my position.
In and out. The guy is moaning, rightfully so; it’s as thick as a beer can.
My other hand is slowly stroking my shaft. I have been edging myself for the entire time this guy has been dealing with his partner’s length.
I spy movement in my peripheral vision. To my right, a dark figure has just stepped through the plastic curtain, completely naked. His skin is deliciously dark and has a shimmer to it - a mix of good genes, sweat and steam.
His cock appears to be semi-erect. It’s as huge as the guy on the wall in front of me. He has my attention and walks over to me. Hungrily, I let go of my cock and grab the base of his shaft, and eagerly I push his head into my mouth. The musclebear is no longer performing for anyone else.
All eyes are now on me.
