His saccharine disposition was nauseating at first. He and his wife were so fucking happy and welcom
His saccharine disposition was nauseating at first. He and his wife were so fucking happy and welcoming and perfect and gorgeous. I couldn’t stand any of it. At least not until he showed up on my doorstep one day with an obvious hard-on pushing against his khakis and an expression I’d never seen before. He was curt rather than verbose and withdrawn instead of fawning. It put me off balance and I found myself driving the conversation, bending over backwards to talk to this chatterbox-turned-brick wall. He grinned at my change of tune and said, “Let’s head inside." Inviting himself in was yet another departure and I must have given him a perplexed look because he explained, "Well, I obviously don’t want my wife to catch me getting my cock sucked by the neighborhood faggot.” When I sank to my knees, he put a hand on the back of my head and sternly said, “Good boy.” -- source link
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