Male-Montage
Yowza, Zoinks, and assorted exclamations; herein rests a hairy-man lover’s dream montage. You got your mound-fur, nest-fur, wang-fur, ball-fuzz, thigh-bursts of hot-hairy trail-hair bleeding into smooth channels of black man-lace. So stroke me, already.
If that’s not enough, you got your yummy skin-spots going on, as well. There’s nothing like a mark on one’s man, less it’s a mark on one’s manly-man’s-man-parts.
Love me, that square birthmark, low on Soufian’s shaft, how it echoes the one on his hand—you know, the one with the nice clean manicure—the one that’s cock-cradling that inflatable bag with infinite tenderness—pale palm resting, defenseless, on that sexy, stroke-of-midnight-colored-crinkly-nest.
Basically, you’d know that dick anywhere—and I love that.
It’s birth-marked, high-water-marked too. Dig how the collar below the hot-pink glans looks like the strata demarcation on a mountain. The color- shifts on Soufian’s beautiful, big, but not ludicrously so, package, right there…
Did I say yowza?
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