The stainless steel handcuffs are tight around my wrists. Andy kneels between my spread legs and studies my chiseled torso. One n****e is pinched, then a second one. He grins like the Cheshire cat, rolls his fingertips down and along the center of my chest, and says, “You’re one hot stud.”
The d**k between my legs leaks a bubble of pre-ooze out of its cap. I want the guy to manhandle it with his hands or mouth, but he insists on teasing me first, following his own rules to our united game.
His fingertips dance around my puckered navel. My fur is brushed away from the divot. The tips of his fingers find the goo on the end of my d**k and he removes the bubble with pleasure, which is wiped away on the sheet to his left.
He does exactly what he wants to do with my skin: relentless licks are
