Later that night…
I admit today, my Irish mother, Mary Anne Turnall-Schwartz, would not have been proud of me that night. There I was, completely naked and pressed against Kintano Kind’s floor-to-ceiling window that looked over Brat Park and other parts of the almost-asleep city. My back was concave so my tight, white ass could be of used for his hungry service, and my palms were pressed against the sprawling window. Of course my legs were c****d open and my d**k just happened to be rock-hard between my thighs. And yes, my balls hung beneath my erection, swinging left and right.
Kintano munched on my ass with pleasure: slurping ensued, he became breathless, huffing and puffing, and the tip of his amber red tongue explored my insides. He drove his face against my end, attempted to semi-su
