Twenty Minutes 1/1
anonymous
September 1 2009, 20:36:50 UTC
He fell down to a kneel, stroking himself harder now, the small shower stall preventing him from spreading wider. His forehead hit the wall and he was soon bucking into his hand, feeling so sexually frustrated. He needed something else. It wasn't enough.
Leaning back, trying to maneuver, he awkwardly had his back against the wall, hand still gripping his ready to burst cock, other slipping down to try and give himself more pleasure. Imagining it was himTwo fingers entering and started thrusting in and out, the water now seeming to make his skin boil as he jerked and squirmed. Getting a little louder, briefly grabbing the loofah to bite into as he spent the last few minutes with his eyes closed, a scenario running through his head. The sponge seeming to swallow his cries as he came, bucking like a stallion, his long moan being quietly absorbed
( ... )
Seventeen [1/2]
anonymous
September 2 2009, 02:28:43 UTC
Sorry, this kinda got away from me. Hope you like it anyway?
Seventeen days. Four hundred and eight hours. Twenty-four thousand four hundred eighty minutes. One million four hundred sixty-eight thousand eight hundred seconds. It seemed like so much longer, but that was how long it had been since he had last seen Alfred. Not that he was counting or anything.
Matthew groaned as he kicked the covers off of himself and onto the floor. It was clear to him that sleeping was not an option, at least for now. Memories of that night played over and over again in his mind, this routine no different from the past sixteen midnights. And like all those past nights, he felt himself begin to grow hard as he let himself become immersed in his memories
( ... )
Seventeen [2/2]
anonymous
September 2 2009, 02:33:49 UTC
Matthew collapsed on the bed, spent, and tried to focus on the more pleasant points of their encounter as he allowed post-coital sleep to begin to take him. That phone call from Alfred the next morning, though, invaded his now clouded mind.
“What the hell happened last night? I seriously can’t remember a thing. I was super wasted, yeah?”
“Yeah. I…I took you home before you could do anything too stupid.”
“Oh, you were the one that brought me home? Thanks a lot, Matt. You’re an awesome friend.”
Matthew smiled a sad smile. “No problem, Al.”
Sixteen and a half days since he had last spoken to Alfred. He still didn’t know if he could face him any time soon.
captcha: 17 ducks. I guess it feels no sadness for Matthew?
Quietly 1/1 - N. Italy/gerita
anonymous
September 2 2009, 04:44:33 UTC
Feliciano slumped down the wall once the door to Ludwig’s home office had closed, trying to restrain the quiet gasp that pushed out of his chest as he did so. Sometimes he had to wonder whether or not Ludwig was really as naïve as he seemed. It was one thing to make the mistake of pulling his curl once in a while, but once a week just had to be planned. Somehow, Ludwig still seemed so clueless about the whole thing. At least, Feliciano had noticed, he never followed up on it
( ... )
Multiple fills are encouraged.
Aaaand, go.
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He fell down to a kneel, stroking himself harder now, the small shower stall preventing him from spreading wider. His forehead hit the wall and he was soon bucking into his hand, feeling so sexually frustrated. He needed something else. It wasn't enough.
Leaning back, trying to maneuver, he awkwardly had his back against the wall, hand still gripping his ready to burst cock, other slipping down to try and give himself more pleasure. Imagining it was himTwo fingers entering and started thrusting in and out, the water now seeming to make his skin boil as he jerked and squirmed. Getting a little louder, briefly grabbing the loofah to bite into as he spent the last few minutes with his eyes closed, a scenario running through his head. The sponge seeming to swallow his cries as he came, bucking like a stallion, his long moan being quietly absorbed ( ... )
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So did I. Very hot.
"You'll light the house on fire!"
Oh Ludwig. <3
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Seventeen days. Four hundred and eight hours. Twenty-four thousand four hundred eighty minutes. One million four hundred sixty-eight thousand eight hundred seconds. It seemed like so much longer, but that was how long it had been since he had last seen Alfred. Not that he was counting or anything.
Matthew groaned as he kicked the covers off of himself and onto the floor. It was clear to him that sleeping was not an option, at least for now. Memories of that night played over and over again in his mind, this routine no different from the past sixteen midnights. And like all those past nights, he felt himself begin to grow hard as he let himself become immersed in his memories ( ... )
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“What the hell happened last night? I seriously can’t remember a thing. I was super wasted, yeah?”
“Yeah. I…I took you home before you could do anything too stupid.”
“Oh, you were the one that brought me home? Thanks a lot, Matt. You’re an awesome friend.”
Matthew smiled a sad smile. “No problem, Al.”
Sixteen and a half days since he had last spoken to Alfred. He still didn’t know if he could face him any time soon.
captcha: 17 ducks. I guess it feels no sadness for Matthew?
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FFFFFFFFF AMERICA/CANADA
ILU.
*gives you firstborn and an Internet*
reCAPTCHA: 10 better. Sorry anon, but I am not willing to give up 10 children. D8
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