The SCENT of a MAN
Rustic masculinity spreads thin across draped testosterone, and I rage in heat at mountains of muscle mixed with agility and stone.
flexible rubber mimic our bodies imagination and stories which come alive on our sheets provides the pictures I now see are never shown.
Tear gas forces me to express my passion, and I lay to rest fear of loosing my self control. I beg my mind to teach me the moves of-a motivated stripper, so I can smack a smooth grove at this tipper who kisses my soul.
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