Oh, Tim. I would make love to your most intimate of parts with my mouth. I would have you sopping wet and writhing. You could pull yourself off while I bury my tongue in your perfect arse. Only you must say my name when you spend.
And you'd fuck me into my mess after? I'd be so sensitive I couldn't help but cry out. I hope you're ready for your neighbors to know you've got a sweetheart.
[He's just going to struggle with the obscenity of that for a minute, then snap a photo really quick before he can change his mind - his softening cock, his belly, dark hair coated liberally with come - and sends it.]
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'Deviant behaviour' being the enjoyment of feet but NOT the sodomy?
Tim, if I tell you it may spoil the mood again, I'm afraid.
Oh, ass in the air, yes. I should like to tongue fuck it.
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Can you imagine it? How I'll sound?
Keep thinking about that while you tug off. I want to know when you come.
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Yes.
[Look, he can't type one handed. But at least Tim doesn't have to wait long.]
Is 'come' the preferred term these days? I have done so. Embarrassingly quickly.
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Clean up and go to bed now, while you're heavy and warm. And have sweet dreams.
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You as well, my most beloved Tim. And give my regards to Mr. Fuller.