In real life, I’m not 22 and a dancer. I don’t weigh 118 pounds. And I don’t have a tiny little butt.
So I completely enjoyed the man that wanted someone that looked like I REALLY look. I have a butt. I won’t deny it.
“I want to kiss it, lick it, worship it,” he moaned.
Wow, really? I mean, it’s a bit soft…
“Love that soft, round ass.”
Well, ok then. Go for it.
“I love licking and kissing it, I love pulling your ass cheeks apart and tonguing your tight little asshole.”
Mmmmkay. But what about you? Shouldn’t I be doing something for you? Sucking your cock, perhaps?
“No, I want to spend more time playing with your ass.”
Well, ok. This is easy. Wait, need to moan a bit, emphasize how much joy this brings me…there we go.
“I think–I think I’m going to come,” he pants.
Wait, what? Really? I mean, we haven’t done ANYTHING for him at all yet. Really? He’s going to come? Dang.
“I’m coming, I’m coming all over that beautiful ass of yours.”
Sure, ok. More power.
“I want to lick my come off of you, get you all clean.”
Less common, that one, but not unheard of. Go for it.
“Mmmmm….now your beautiful ass is as clean as it deserves to be.”
Thank you.
“Thank you, that was great.”
Wow, all that and manners, too? Most men hang up without saying anything.
Awesome call. Great guy.
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I don’t think I was ever much of a college party kind of guy, even in college. At least, not the frat party kind of guy, but a girl I’d recently been in contact with from my alma mater told me about an alumni frat thing, and begged me to go to it. If there is nothing else MLK day is good for, it’s an inappropriate Sunday party at a predominately Caucasian school So, I took the long train ride home prepping with a flask of Jameson. After the train and the cab I stepped onto all familiar pavement. I walked around the campus a little bit, trying to re-adjust, and get my bearings.