After our s****l interlude, sticky, congealed to his skin, I was barely capable of breathing due to a state of intoxication. My hairy chest rose and fell. Every muscle in my body tingled with deep satisfaction. My c**k was still hard between my legs, perhaps ready for another round of intimacy with the spy.
“The mask is yours, my friend. Take it. Do with it what you will,” he whispered in the library, breathing heavily against my face, huffing. Spittle exited his mouth and moistened my lips.
“Only if I can be yours, Marcos. My payment for the mask.”
He clung to me, brushed his pulsing lips against my chin and left cheek, pulled away from me, and shared, “As you wish. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“The mask is mine then. I will return it to its proper owner.”
“I care more about yo
