Wholly-Near-Guacamole Smooth-Baba
Baba-licious.
I ask myself, does this guy have a shaving fetish, or is it just that he’s giving me one?
The broody, squared-off features on his well-chiseled face are those of the daring-you-to-crack-wise-cop, or the leer of the hardened jailbird. Which side is he on, the good, or bad, or does he mix it up? Maybe he’s the bad-ass cop, the bad guy with the vein of gold.
Showing off his meaty schlong, and how his ass and balls are just as bald as his bad-ass head, I wonder again—what’s been shaved and what’s au natural. The pube-patch at the top of his crotch isn’t much. In my mind, I spread my fingers through its crinkles in a heartbeat, grabbing and then sucking off his cock.
He’s pumping away at my mouth, grinding in and out, while those naked teabags are slapping at my chin—hard, so that I have to wonder, yet again. Do those balls produce hair? Would he let me shave them, let me fill a basin, hot and soapy, bring his thighs to my face, place his calves on my shoulders, spreading all the best, most tender parts of him for my blade?
Suppose I miss. Will the cop punish me, or the criminal? And can I stand the wait? Check out Baba’s pictures at Istanboys.com.
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