If you want to forget a guy named Colm Frost, get nailed by Brett Carlisle, who just happened to be the owner of a massive d**k, which he forcefully dodged into my tight ass, repeatedly. Not four inches at one time. Not eight inches. All eleven inches plugged my rear with numerous bolts that just about split my ass in half and forced the breath out of me.
I took the d**k like a man, even if it ripped my core to shreds and felt painful. Who knew I could take a Redwood up my ass and live to tell about it? How many tears fell out of my eyes and dripped to the mat? Could Brett have been counting exactly how many yelps and groans I performed while he banged me?
“Plastering you, dude,” the rich bastard called over my back.
Methodic and brutal behind me, he worked skillfully. Fresh spanks land
