Mask slips off half manner although CUMMING inside Fearless Boy-Next-door

The solar was shining, birds had been singing, and the streets had been alive with exercise on this pretty spring day in London. Little did the unsuspecting passersby know, a sexual spectacle was unfolding only a stone’s throw away in a dimly lit, dicey flat within the again alleys of Soho.

Callum, the lofty, all-British boy-next-door, was bent over the arm of the sofa, his taut bubble butt begging to be ravaged. His pert pink nipples had been rock laborious, and his thick, vein-ridged cock was already dripping pre-cum onto the filthy carpet. This was his concept of an ideal Saturday.

“Alright lads,” he known as over his shoulder, his Cockney accent dripping with lust. “Let’s get this party started.” His furry asshole twitched with anticipation.

In an immediate, the brute pack of toothy blokes within the room descended upon their luckless prey. They snapped open lube and started slicking up their knobby knobs, filling the air with the scent of coconut. Callum’s puckered boyhole was unfold and prodded in each course till the primary hungry cock nudged its manner inside.

“Bloody hell, that’s tight!” the bucker gasped, bottoming out in a single thrust. Callum simply grunted and pushed again, revelling within the beautiful agony.

“Chop-chop lads, no time for foreplay, I’ve a date with my misses in an hour!” known as out the highest, setting a speedy, pile-driving tempo. The others jostled for place, their outsized British bangers aching to be buried in juicy boy-pussy.

Slap, slap, slap went the pendulous nutsacks and furry ballsacks in opposition to Callum’s pert cheeks, spattering his manliness with pungent ball-smell. He liked the sensation of belonging in a writhing, sweat-soaked mass of grunts and groans. His personal inflexible size slapped in opposition to his stomach, leaving sticky streaks that trickled into his trimmed ginger bush.

The bucker shifted positions, placing his sizeable spam in a peculiar angle. Each thrust hit Callum’s prostate dead-on, making him see stars. His gap clenched helplessly across the invading slab of meat, like a cartoon character making an attempt to entice a migrating snake.

“Oi, no Offensives please!” Callum yelped as a thick digit breached his mouth, put right here by an overeager backside. He slurped and sucked obediently, incomes an approving squeeze of his spit-slicked cheeks.

The room was a symphony of debauched noises – lewd squelches, smacking flesh, guttural moans, and the occasional strangled hiccup. Callum misplaced himself within the humanity of all of it, savouring the delectable sweat, semen and ass that linked them.

Just because the bucker’s thrusts grew to become erratic, the distinctive scent of concern tickled Callum’s nostril. As the bloke pulled out with a moist squelch, Callum felt a wierd sensation… the condom peeling off and slithering down his asscrack like a disturbingly alien snake.

“Oi! Bogoff – what’s the big idea!” Callum shouted indignantly, making a valiant try and raise his hips. But his actions had been countered by one other metal laborious shaft spearing into his guts, pushing him prostate-deep into depravity.

Callum felt a primal resignation as his boycunt was stuffed by what now appeared infinite lengths of meat. His imaginative and prescient tunnelled, irrelevant ideas pale, leaving solely the elegant playground of his physique and thoughts to discover.

Still, the publicity to uncooked man-meat was unnerving. He remembered the distinction in sensation, the primal burn as if his insides had been awash in acid. The uncooked nuttiness of cum flooding his gap. Like a perverse baptism in unholy fluids.

“Port in a storm!” Callum joked weakly, incomes a spherical of bawdy laughter from his lewd brethren. And then the actual storm started.

Thick ropes of virile seed painted Callum’s innards, molasses-slow but relentless in its journey to his still-beating coronary heart. The viscous soup churned and burbled as the highest effortlessly nailed his P-spot, forcing out spurts from Callum’s overworked dicklet.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell!” Callum wailed because the degustation continued, milked to the final drop by the relentless bareback barrage. He thought he would die from the feeling, or maybe the sheer human quantity filling him.

Finally it was over, and Callum collapsed right into a boneless heap, that unusual distance masking his common bonhomie. Green, sticky fluid oozed from his hotly battered gap, and he sniffed – the semen was uncooked.

He numbly cleaned up after the lads, flushing experimental child batter down the bathroom with a twinge of remorse. He longed to be procreating, to be filled with potent seed and younger life. But for now, it was again to the grind, again to the faceless cocks and holes and the ceaseless seek for fulfilment.

Callum smiled bravely at his reflection, splashing water on his flushed face. He nonetheless seemed the identical boy-next-door, however there was a information in his eyes now, a quiet knowledge of the flesh. The secret information that even on his darkest days, he may get railed into psychic oblivion.

And as he threw on his tight denims and tight t-shirt and hurried out to fulfill his girlfriend, he could not assist however chuckle to himself. If solely she knew what her spotless, attractive boyfriend bought as much as on a Saturday morning!