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something was in this spectacle inexplicably attractive, strangely exciting, – a huge member, excitedly trembling, impatiently

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imbued with a shameless desire only half a meter from Artyomov’s face – from the hot swelling of poured lips.
– What, Artem.
like? – deafly laughed Marat, from which he did not hide, did not escape the look fixed on the member of the guy.

– You have no worse.
Marat pulled panties off Artyom, but Artyom unexpectedly resisted — the word “like” clawed his ear, and Artyom pressed back to the mattress with force – not allowing Marat to pull off his pants, at the same time hastily covered his own member, excitedly hard, blunt, already extracted by Marat from his underpants while sucking on the lips and now shamelessly stuck in front of Marat in full view.
“Like”.
Why should he like someone’s dick? Alien, poured shameful desire.
he never thought about it – that he might like or dislike someone else’s member, and now he was looking at Marat’s member, and.
What is going on?! What the hell?! Artyom had a computer at home, and Artyom.
Well, yes, from time to time he found porn sites on the Internet – he looked at photographs depicting fuck, and each time such viewing always ended with needlework, because it was impossible to do otherwise: the hand itself climbed into cowards, where it was immediately done closely, and Artyom, staring at the monitor continuously, immediately removed the tense cock out, habitually wrapped his hand in a sweetly strained trunk, began, gliding excitedly through the photos, voluptuously moving up and down with his fist, holding the other’s thumb at the bottom of the panty elastic, but never.

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At the same time, he never peered at male members, didn’t emphasize members ’attention – he eagerly looked at the postures of women, excitedly peered at their juicyly lurking caps, which were not always pretty, but always radiated pleasure.
He excitedly looked at the fuck captured in the photos, mentally imagining someone else’s excited members in their own place, just as excited, whining sweetly in a clenched fist, tirelessly scurrying up and down, and.
what business was he to someone else’s fucking? – when it was over, Artyom carefully wiped his fingers and the member himself, which was a little swollen and darkened every time, carried crumpled, sperm-soaked napkins to the toilet – he threw them into the toilet, immediately flushing.
And now there were no “caps”, and everything was not in the picture, but in real life – Marat’s tense member, oily glittering in the twilight with a bumpy juicy head, slightly trembled just a meter away from his eyes, so Artyom willy-nilly concentrated his attention on him .
“like”?
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