Vintage Pulp and Original Gay Erotica
Inside Out
FL-99
French Line
Christopher Ford
$1.95
Inside Out
FL-99
French Line
Christopher Ford
$1.95
Excerpt
A little flustered, Chris picked up his trunks from the bench which ran down the center of the room but he couldn’t quite bring himself to put them on. His glance was irrevocably drawn back to the beautiful joint which was now being slowly milked. There wasn’t a sound in the room but the tension was so brittle, it almost crackled. The tall lad’s deeply set green eyes, surrounded by thick, sooty lashes kept flashing from Chris’ eyes to his now lengthening, huge prick. As Chris watched the slow stripping of the tool, he saw the big, pink, swelling helmet slide out of its protective sheath and start to enlarge. The thick shaft lengthened and expanded to gigantic proportions, making the fist holding it look very small in comparison.
Chris’ prick was now standing at erect attention. The meaty foreskin pulled back over his bright, shiny corona and the heavy column slowly bobbed up and, down. The other fellow motioned him to move over next to him and reached for Chris’ cock the second he came within range. Chris immediately grasped the proffered, pulsating monster and gently moved the loose foreskin back and forth over the satiny, blood engorged crown which was now leaking his slippery, pearly pre-seminal fluid. He felt the lad’s beautiful ass-cheeks clench and saw the steely thighs contract until the muscles stood out in bold relief.
The boy had Chris’ prick clenched in one slowly moving fist while the other hand was gently kneading and pinching the classical curves of Chris’ alabaster ass. A low moan escaped his lips and he threw his head back to continue groaning through clenched teeth. Chris gave the satiny shaft a squeeze and moved away.
“We’re gonna get caught if we’re not careful! Can’t we move this fantastic happening to a more discreet area?”
The blond opened his eyes and pulled up his trunks for all the good it did. His hard-on was still rearing its scarlet head a full three inches above the waist band of his suit.
“Oh, man! Why did you stop there? I was just about to pop my nuts all over your hand!”
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