[Those kisses feel a little rough and firm on his skin, man mouth, just the way he likes it. Rocking only his hips back and forth makes him feel like he's riding a prized race horse. He's the goddamn jockey who's in partial control, making him go faster and faster, or faster and slower then faster again. Something like that.]
No...still hard. [Freddy echoes the groan with his own. He's leaning forward enough with an arch to his back to bring them chest to chest. He gasps.] Way fuckin' stiff.
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No...still hard. [Freddy echoes the groan with his own. He's leaning forward enough with an arch to his back to bring them chest to chest. He gasps.] Way fuckin' stiff.