modeseven

I don’t remember a lot about the next couple of days. I couldn’t shake the image of Mrs. B. on her knees gazing up at me while my cock pulsed a geyser of cum into her mouth. Not that I wanted to shake the image. I do remember beating my cock like it owed me money for days after the closet incidence.

Femboy, trap and twink are three different things yet all three tags appear together on the same posts, making it impossible to search for the one I want without the others appearing as well. They also appear on some posts of cuntboys and people with breasts, so I have to add -cuntboy, -futanari and -breasts to my searches when they shouldn't be appearing in the first place. -Breasts also removes images featuring femboys and females together which is not ideal.

He’d already showered so his short messy hair had been combed back and was still damp. He was wearing his slacks and belt, but no button up shirt on yet. He liked to wait until his hair was a bit drier before he put it on. As he pulled cups and the coffee tin from the cupboards above, she couldn’t help but notice the way his muscles shifted on his back, the sparse long hairs that sprouted from his back and shoulders. He only got to the gyms on the weekends, but he walked around job sights a lot for his work, so he had a nice balance between muscle and leanness. Before last night she wouldn’t have given it a second thought, but now she sat there with her mouth open, staring like a dead fish.