“Zeb,” was whispered as three strings of ooze flew out of his cock and decorated his hairy abs, pointed nipples, and filled his navel.
Within the dark confines of his bedroom, hidden from his tenant, he discovered pleasure with his own discharge. Two fingertips rolled against the sticky substance on his muscled flesh, which he collected with skill. And slowly, content by his greedy action, he drew the fingertips up to his lips, outstretched his tongue, and believed that he had started to lap Zeb’s goo into his mouth, feeding himself the young man’s evening treat, desiring nothing less at the moment bliss.
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