Last night the thoughts running through my head while my Hitachi was right where I wanted it to be, were predictable. I was fucking Mr. Hot Body. Actually I was alternately beating him and fucking him.
He tells me that he's been working out like crazy lately so that he looks even better for me the next time we see each other. If his ass looks any better the next time I see it, I'm really not sure what I might do.
Beat it? Absolutely. Fuck it? Without a doubt.
Those were the pictures running through my head last night when I got off, thinking about Mr. Hot Body.
And he was calling my name.
Yeah.
