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This is the first journal entry that was posted within the body of A Single Soul. It is the story of Matt Leo's great uncle Frank Bruno. The story will now continue in installments—it will be a standalone.
Frank & Benny
A Lifetime of Love
New Home, New Life
Our new family spent Thanksgiving in the hotel dining room. We had stayed three days in Chicago where Rocco had been occupied with meetings over two days. Many years later, we learned that he was negotiating his exit from his business associations—otherwise known as "the family". As he explained it, what he was able to accomplish was rare, to be released from such associations, however he had been very loyal and was much valued. He also had many secrets in his keeping; this guaranteed his release as a reward.
When we arrived in our new city, Rocco took a two-bedroom suite at the Huntington Hotel. It was a spectacular building—just like almost everything in Pasadena. It was a breathtaking city, especially when viewed from the Colorado Street Bridge, and the surrounding mountains and the sheer open space were spectacular when compared to Brooklyn; we left crowded, noisy, dirty streets for this paradise. It was almost hard to sleep at night because it was so quiet.
The first day we were in town, Rocco met with a real estate agent. After speaking with him for just a short time, he showed Rocco a house on a large lot on North Marengo Avenue—it was almost an acre— and at the time was considered out of town. The house was a large mission style bungalow; there were two bedrooms and two baths on the first floor with the same on the second. The plentitude of windows added to the beauty of the home as did the deep porch covered by the overhang of the sloping roof that surrounded two-thirds of the house. Having lived in the brownstone, which only had windows front and back, the inside of the house with all the natural light of Southern California was spectacular. In a matching style was a two-car garage with a large two-bedroom apartment above it, built with a housekeeper in mind.
The agent said he had constructed the house for himself and his wife, but after the market crashed, he couldn't afford to keep it. He needed to sell quickly, or he and the builder would be completely ruined. As I have said before, Rocco was not only a kind person but also an extremely smart businessman. He— well we—were in a new city where we knew virtually no one, so he asked the agent if he could meet the builder which he did the next day. In the end, he paid the men not the rock bottom price that would have nearly bankrupted them, but what he thought the value would have been prior to the crash. He saved the real estate agent and the builder from ruin and in the process gained two lifelong business associates. As a result, the two ever-grateful men quietly taught Rocco about the area and California in general; they also directed him to many prime real estate deals over the years.
The house was already completely furnished; Benny and I were happy to see that like the master, two of the other three bedrooms had double beds. Rocco said it was fine if we wanted to sleep together at night, but for the sake of propriety we should each have our own room. When the crates of furniture arrived, they were loaded into the garage. I asked Rocco what he would do with the unneeded furniture he just laughed and told Benny and me to follow him.
He grabbed a crowbar and opened a crate; inside the one he opened were four dining chairs. He pulled the seat off the frame and ripped off the material. Under the horsehair stuffing was a thin balsa wood box filled with gold coins. The furniture was just a way to disguise Rocco's stash of gold during its transport. There was just over five hundred thousand dollars and that would be the equivalent of over four million in today's money. That was not all of his money, just his private stash. It would not be a fortune in the 1990's, but back then it was a huge amount and over the next five years it would enable Rocco to buy up houses and land at rock bottom prices. However, I am getting ahead of myself.
A week after we moved in Rocco bought a safe and the builder, his new friend and ally Jon Orne, quietly installed it in the floor of his bedroom. This guy was a real looker; he was about Rocco's age and by appearance and name he seemed to be Swedish, or at least of Swedish descent, and he was tall, blond, and built. Apparently, Rocco's ability to size up people told him that Jon was a man who could be trusted; it is hard for me to say exactly how he knew since I was not privy to all of their conversations.
The day he installed the safe he brought his sons Tobias— called Toby—and Rune. Toby was the same age as me, and Rune was a few months older than Benny. They both looked like their father had spit them out; they were exact copies of him only younger and just a bit shorter, but with the same ice blue eyes and blond hair that was almost white. They also looked like they worked out with weights; they certainly got our attention.
Things were looking up; we would be attending the same high school after the Christmas holiday; Toby and I finishing our senior year, and Benny and Rune their junior. They both played baseball like Benny and me, and as it turned out, both liked to work with weights. They also did something that was new to us, running. They both ran five miles a day and invited Benny and me to go along with them in the morning and then they wanted to show us their work out room. They told us their father had built it for them and it included a real Swedish sauna.
Toby had a driver's license and a car, so he volunteered to pick us up on Sunday morning at seven-thirty. Benny and I were waiting on the front porch when the Orne boys pulled in the drive. We went for a two-mile run; Toby thought it best to keep it light since it was our first time. Then we went back to their house to work out. They had a home a little further out of town— much like ours in style only built all of stone. Next to the garage was a building that looked like a small garage; it had high windows and a windowless door.
Inside was amazing: there were two weight benches—one on an incline, racks of barbells, and stacks of weight plates, some kind of contraption with pulleys, a punching bag, and one wall was covered completely with mirrors. It was much better than our gym in Brooklyn.
Toby gave us a quick tour and then led us out the back door to a fenced yard containing an even smaller hut with no windows, just skylights. Next to it was a pool about eight feet around. They explained that the building was a sauna and the pool was an ice plunge. Rune went inside the building to light the fire so it would heat up while we worked out.
Back inside the gym, the brothers led us over to a corner that had a bench along the wall with pegs hanging above it and an open shower. They began to strip off their clothes and hang them on the pegs, both Toby and Rune stared at us while we just stood there. "What are you waiting for?" Toby asked.
"We didn't bring any other clothes to change into," I explained.
The guys just laughed, "We're not changing; we work out naked. Our father is Swedish, and our mother is Finnish; nudity is no big deal to us," Rune said.
"But the real reason is that our dad told us this is how the ancient Greeks worked out, naked. That's where the word gymnasium comes from," Toby added.
"What if one of your sisters walks in?" Benny asked.
"That wouldn't happen; only Dad, Toby, and I have keys. But like he said we're Swedish, nudity is no big deal to us," Rune said.
So we got naked. Compared to them, Benny and I looked like pikers. Their bodies were true works of art; you could do laundry on the ripples of Toby's stomach—not to mention that they both had very long fat cocks and low hanging balls! It made me wonder what Jon looked like naked, and I hoped I would get the chance to find out one day.
We paired up, me with Toby and Benny with Rune, and they taught us their workout programs. Toby told us that his father had developed them and usually joined them, but often times would not get there until after they had started.
While we were working out, I noticed that all of us plumped up a bit at one time or another but no one mentioned it, although I did notice Toby checking me out. When we were through with the workout, Toby announced that it was time for a sauna. He led us out through the back door to the sauna, handing us huge towels.
As we followed him out, he was explaining to Benny and me how the sauna worked and about the ice plunge used to cool off. We entered the sauna; it was very warm, but not yet hot. Rune was first in and I noticed he laid his towel down on the lower bench and stretched out. There were two tiers of benches on each side facing each other, Toby climbed on a top tier and I followed his lead on the opposite side; Benny lay on a lower one across from the younger Orne.
We relaxed, enjoying the heat. Toby did something with the heater, and it really started to warm up as they chatted to us about their high school, and the baseball team. We had been inside for about twenty minutes when I noticed that Toby was almost hard, and he caught me looking. That fucker looked like it was at least eight inches.
"Sorry, always happens after working out," Toby said with a shy smile.
"Yeah, and if you guys weren't here, he'd be beating it already," Rune said with a laugh.
"Rune!" Toby hissed.
Benny being Benny must have decided to test the waters at my expense, which was easy since I was hard as a rock at the sight of the hot teenager with the huge cock and his low hanging balls draped over his leg.
"Hey Frankie, I said you weren't the only one who beats off after working out."
"Fuck you Benny, you got room to talk," I said laughing. By this point, we were all hard. Toby grabbed his cock and gave it a long stroke looking directly at me while I did the same. Not wanting to look over anxious, I matched him stroke for stroke, and when I caught his eye he gave me a sexy smile.
By now all four of us were stroking our cocks openly, our lust-filled teenage eyes trained on each other. I wanted nothing more than to go over and take Toby's leaking cock into my mouth, but since we were just becoming friends I didn't want to risk moving too fast and was content to watch this blond stud stroke his cock.
As he was stroking, he moved into a sitting position with his butt close to the edge of the bench. I followed his lead; watching his balls swinging back and forth was one of the hottest things I'd ever seen. It was as if we were trying to mirror each other's form—matching each other stroke for stroke. I wanted to cross the empty space between us and take that very pale, vein etched, rock hard cock with the blond bush in my mouth and suck him dry; but I had to be content just watching him jerk off. I was getting very close to busting a nut and it looked like Toby was too; he was stretching his legs out straight and curling his toes. I was just about to announce my impending orgasm when the door opened and Jon stepped in, naked. The sight of the big Swede with his heavy cock and low hanging balls was enough to send me over the edge and I shot ropes of my teen cum up to my chest. Looking across at Toby I saw him do the same. The door opened again and Rocco entered the little room. Toby and Rune didn't seem too concerned that their father had entered—in fact they both were smiling.
"See my friend, I was right," Jon said moving over in front of Benny who was still holding his slightly less hard cock in his hand, "Your Papa says you like to play with men—is that right?"
Benny looked a bit shocked but managed to squeak, "Yes sir."
"Then may I?" The big man said as he went to his knees before him—Benny's erection returned to full force even before Jon took it deep in his throat. The scene was repeated across the small room when Rocco did the same to Rune. Watching Jon suck Benny's cock, while his cock hung down hard and slimy between his legs, caused me to bone up once again; and taking a look at Toby I noticed he was in the same condition. He smiled and nodded towards his father. I took the hint and was soon lying on the wet wooden floor lapping at the huge Swedish sausage; while Toby was doing the same to Rocco.
Benny and Rune didn't take long to blow, and after they did Benny joined me working on Jon, and Rune joined his brother working on Rocco and all four of us were soon rewarded. After showering and dressing there was a discussion—nothing that we hadn't heard before; the only new information being that Jon and his boys belonged to a club consisting of like-minded fathers and sons. The membership was a closely held secret—and the number one rule was that members were forbidden to discuss membership or activities except at meetings.
"That means I can't tell you who else is in the club—so don't ask," Toby said giving me a slight punch in the arm.
My cock stayed hard the entire drive back to our house; I tried to leave it alone but couldn't, so I finally gave in. When I grabbed it and gave it a squeeze a huge wet spot appeared on my shorts; of course Benny noticed and announced to Zio that I was "pulling my pud" in the car.
Rocco just laughed and then said, "Maybe you should pull it for him," he suggested.
"No, he's thinking of his new boyfriend—he doesn't want me anymore," Benny said, surprising me.
"What are you yammering about?" I asked, "You think I have a thing for Toby?"
"I saw the way you looked at him," Benny said accusingly.
"Che cosa mio figlio?" Rocco asked.
"Niente papa," Benny snapped.
Rocco laughed as he reached over and pinched Benny's cheek, "Amore e gelosia naccheron insieme, mio ragazzo."
"You're sure acting like you're jealous," I said; I could see it in his eyes. I leaned forward and kissed the back of his neck, "Don't worry Benny—I think Toby, well all three of them are beautiful, and would love to do more things with them; but I love you," I said.
Benny turned and gave me big smile, and then gave me a quick kiss on the lips, "So Papa, what's for dinner?"
"U gazza di chooch cu googoozeel e uova," Rocco answered.
"I'd rather have Swedish cock," I said.
"Don't blow your wig," I shouted at Toby over the laughter of Rune and Benny in the back seat as I tried to re-start the car. He was teaching me to drive, and I was having a little trouble with the clutch. It was rough going, but I finally made it home. Benny and I had talked Zio into letting us start school instead of waiting until January; we were bored at home by ourselves, and we also wanted to spend more time with our new friends.
"Hey, I didn't do too bad," I said getting out from behind the wheel.
"Says you," Benny quipped causing the brothers to snicker.
"Ah, dry up," was my reply, "just wait until it's your turn," I warned. The Orne boys said goodbye and headed home, promising to pick us up for school again the next morning. We would also be working out after, and my cock twitched in my pants in anticipation.
"What's up, Pops?" Benny called to Rocco, who was stirring a large pot on the stove.
"Hello boys, how was your first day of school?" he replied as he moved to the table and began to rip lettuce leaves, throwing them into a large bowl for salad.
"Great! Toby was trying to teach Frankie how to drive his old jalopy—it was a scream," Benny said with a grin.
"Maybe you should be careful figlio mio, someday soon you may want him to drive you somewhere. Hai capito?"
"Sure Pops," he said as he left the kitchen on his way to his—well our bedroom to change.
"It sure hasn't taken him long to talk like a `medigan'," Rocco said wiping his hands on a towel before grabbing me and kissing me deeply.
"Not now Zio, we have to go running before dinner," I said giving his cock a teasing squeeze before pulling away, "I brought you this, I thought you might want to read it," I said pulling a paper out of my pocket. I had copied excerpts from an article in a newspaper I read in the school library.
"Che era molto bello," he said as he took the paper and read it:
Very Prosperous Year Is Forecast
Guenther Analyzes the Report of Mellon Covering 1929
That 1930 may be a very prosperous year, industrially and otherwise, without the peak conditions that made 1929 an exceptional year for business prosperity, is an observation made by Louis Guenther, publisher of the Financial World, in a statement based upon Secretary Mellon's fiscal report...
"To grow too fast is often unhealthy because of the suddenness with which a readjustment must be met. By far and large the country would be better off were further progress made along more normal lines...
Fortunately, we have returned to a more normal mind in appraising prospects. We are not looking for the Midas touch on everything to which we turn. That makes us more satisfied with normal incomes and normal profit returns."
— The World, December 15, 1929
"I wouldn't count on it; this from the same people who didn't see October coming; disgraziato. My money stays in my pocket—or in land. I didn't get this far by being stupid," he said sagely, "now ammonini, get changed for your run—then tutti al tavolo e mangiare."
Benny and I ran in silence—that's what I like most about running. Taking in the beauty that was Pasadena I began to think about all that had happened over the last couple of months; it was as if I had climbed in to Mr. Wells's time machine. Everything was perfect here, our new house, our new friends, and the weather was amazing. We were running in shorts, the temperature was in the high sixty's, much better than the freezing cold I would be dealing with back in New York.
I had a letter from my sister Carmella; she reported that the family was in an uproar. My parents were barely speaking—my mother was in full rebellion, and Enzo had quit my father's business and moved to Stamford, Connecticut to work for a rival company. She reported that during their last conversation he admitted that he missed me—however he could never forgive me for betraying his trust with our father. She asked me to explain—I would have to come up with a way to answer the question without really telling the complete truth.
She related that my younger brothers, Mike and Nick, sometimes still cried when asking for me; she would only tell them that I was away at college. It occurred to me that I should ask Rocco to help me set up something for them as well; perhaps I could meet them sometime in the future and explain my absence.
My brother John had surprised everyone by eloping. He married someone that Carmella described as "pretty and sweet" — a girl named Rose and he was still working for my father, although he would only speak to him at work about work. She reported that he even challenged pop causing quite a dust up. In the end pop backed down and grudgingly kept John on—not that he had a choice since Enzo had moved on.
Keeping pace with Benny, I wondered what thoughts occupied his mind—was he as excited about his future as I? Had the excitement of being in America worn off? The funny thing about it for me was that there wasn't anything as exciting as looking forward to the future, but it was just as disheartening to remember the past. I held no ill will towards Enzo and really none to my father. My problem with him was not that he essentially sold me to Rocco for a profit—I was glad to be where I was—what I couldn't forgive was his hypocrisy. He was willing to condemn me for something that he himself had done—only because I didn't have the cover of being away from my wife.
We had reached the turnaround point in our run, and I had decided that my father was paying for his double standards—he had broken his family, and he would pay for that for the rest of his life. I glanced over and noticed Benny watching me, "Che cosa con voi?" I asked.
"Nothing's wrong with me. You're the one who seems to be in deep thought," he replied
"Yeah, sorry about that," I said, realizing I had ignored him the entire time we had been running, "I had a letter from Carmella—I'll let you read it after dinner."
Reaching the house, we noticed an old truck loaded with some boxes and suitcases parked in front, one we didn't recognize. Normally we would strip off our sweaty clothes on the back porch, but we didn't know who was visiting. We soon found out; when we made our way into the kitchen we saw Rocco talking to a very muscular and very tall colored man. He was handsome. Standing at least 6'3" he was a wall of muscle wearing bib overalls without a shirt, his huge chocolate colored chest bulging out from behind the bib while his biceps looked like grapefruits as he bent his arm to drink from a glass of lemonade. He looked about the same age as Rocco—but it was hard to tell since his skin was so smooth. Then my eyes caught sight of a huge protrusion down the left pant leg where the material was worn white and almost frayed; it looked like he would even put Jon to shame.
"Just in time boys," Rocco said with a big smile. "This is Gabriel," he said, gesturing to the mountain of flesh that was almost obscuring the new electric icebox. "He's going to working for us—taking care of the yard and the house and living above the garage." We both said hello, and a quick glance at Benny told me he found this big man as attractive as I did. The sound of Gabriel's voice caused me to look at him again. While he certainly had the body of a man who did hard work, there was something about him that made me think he was more than a yardman.
"Hello Master Frank and Master Benny. Mr. Rocco has been telling me many good things about you boys—if you ever need anything, you come see Gabe," he said in his deep baritone voice and pointed to himself; then he flashed a dazzling smile that made my cock jump. Besides my sexual excitement, there was something else that piqued my interest. He was just a little too well spoken for a common yard man, and he had a hint of a New York accent. I would talk to Rocco later, and as the American kids say, `get the skinny' about what was going on.
While we were showering, Benny was grabbing at my hard cock and joking about me being horned up by Gabriel. "I bet you would love to blow Gabriel's horn," he said and then laughed as I smacked his butt. As we were dressing I asked, "Does Gabriel seem like a yard man to you?"
"I was thinking the same thing," Benny replied as he pulled on his underwear. "He sure doesn't speak like any colored man I ever knew, but then I really haven't known all that many."
When we returned, Rocco was in the dining room setting the table for dinner, and I noticed there were four settings; but Gabriel was nowhere in sight.
"Just in time boys, finish the table while I start the macaroni," he said. "Gabe will be back in a minute, he went up to shower and change. Good thing I made a big pot of sugo, I wasn't expecting him until tomorrow," he said as he headed back to the kitchen. I glanced at Benny who raised an eyebrow. When we finished the table we joined Rocco in the kitchen, both of us leaning against the built-in cabinets on the opposite wall and watching him work. He finally sensed that we were staring and asked, "Is there something on your minds?"
"Gabe is sure handsome," I started in Italian in case he happened to enter the room.
"Yes he is," Rocco replied with a smile, continuing in our native language he added, "I also see you noticed he is hung like a horse—bigger than Jon." I blushed red, and Benny laughed out loud.
"Well he seems awfully well educated for a yard man," I replied continuing in Italian, "and he sounds like he comes from back east."
"Questo giovane e molto intelligente, e molto attento," I heard in a deep baritone voice. Benny and I both turned and stared at the handsome stud—now dressed in a fresh pair of dungarees and a skin tight collarless shirt. He was a sight to behold, his dark chocolate skin making his white shirt gleam like the sun. Then we turned to Rocco with a questioning look—now I was sure something was up.
"I'll explain over dinner," was all he said, and as we ate he did as promised. As I suspected Gabe was no ordinary yard man, he was there as Rocco's body guard. It seemed that there were a few former business associates that were not happy with his recent release from his business obligations back east and threatening to make trouble. So he had contacted Gabe, who had been with him for years and brought him here for protection until things quieted down.
"Com'è che parla Italiano?" I asked. He just gave me that bright Pepsodent smile and then, sticking with the language, he explained.
"I was ten years old in 1915 when my mother started keeping house for Rocco. She had no one to watch me and used to make me sit on the back porch when I didn't have school." He looked at Rocco and smiled, "Well, Rocco took pity on me and let me wait in his library and read books and he started to teach me Italian. By the time I was thirteen I started to shoot up, and he started to teach me to lift weights in his basement gym." My cock was now fully erect as I remembered my own experiences with Rocco and my brother Enzo in the gym—and began to leak as I imagined him with Gabriel. "He taught me quite a bit in that gym," he said with a wry smile, "and a lot in the library—so much that I even skipped a grade and graduated high school when I was sixteen," he said proudly. "The language served me well; no one ever knew I was fluent—not even my mother. It was very helpful when I went to meetings with Rocco—when they all started speaking in Italian they felt comfortable and paid no attention to the big darky serving drinks or holding Rocco's coat."
I was amazed, this was so typically Rocco—a brilliant plan to always be one step ahead. "I spoke three languages," Gabe continued as he ate his macaroni in perfect Italian style by twirling it around the fork on the side of the plate—not cutting it to shreds like Americans eating in the now popular Italian restaurants, "proper English, proper Italian, along with four dialects, and what I called my Stepin Fetchit speak—It's whats I'd used talk like whens I's needed to's sound likes the dumb darky," he said mimicking the stereotypical speech pattern that one heard in the movies, and then erupting into laughter along with Rocco.
When he caught his breath Rocco reached out and put his hand on Gabe's shoulder, "You boys have no idea how valuable this man was—and is to me. My associates were always amazed at the quality of my information; they thought I was psychic," Rocco chuckled, "none of them ever though anything of the `mulignan' as they called him that ran my errands and held my coat."
"Che cos'è —mulignan?" Benny asked, he was still sometimes confused by the Italian-American words.
"That's how your paesans in New York say melanzana," Gabe said with a smile, "personally, I don't think I'm as dark as eggplant," he said and laughing with the others. "Now my cousin Franklin, he's what we call blue-black—the name really fits him."
Benny looked serious for a moment and then asked, "Didn't it hurt your feelings when you heard the things they said about you?"
"No bello, Rocco and my mother always taught me to consider the source. What those mooks didn't know was that I was a hundred times smarter than all them put together," he said with pride, "besides, I really didn't have much time to notice—I spent most of my time memorizing the conversations and pretending not to understand, it's not easy pretending to be stupid. Although there were quite a few of them that made it look easy" he finished before, just like my father, loading his now empty macaroni dish with salad.
Later in the evening I knocked on Rocco's door. He called for me to enter. Opening the door I half expected to see Gabe in his bed; apparently the surprise of finding him alone registered on my face causing him to laugh. "Cercando qualcuno?" he asked with a smirk. I crossed the room, stripping off my pajama bottoms as I did and climbed into bed with him; the thought of seeing Rocco in bed with that sexy man made my cock hard and dripping. My body shook as my lover/mentor took my leaking appendage into his hand and stroked it. "You thought he would be in my bed?"
"Well if he's supposed to protect you, shouldn't he be in the house?" I asked what I thought was a reasonable question to try and cover my suspicion.
"I don't think things are that bad just yet," he answered before kissing me, causing me to moan into his mouth as he continued to stroke me. "Besides, I'm not sure of his tastes these days—but I've never seen him in the company of a woman," he said before rolling me onto my back.
"Hey, che cosa siete due? Benny asked as he entered the room in a mixture of Italian and English—a habit that, mostly only at home he, like me and Rocco, could never break. While we were trying to become Americans and speak only English, we all still thought in our native language and needed to constantly translate.
"We're not up to anything yet, fio mio," Rocco said, "just waiting for you to join us," he cooed as he pulled back the sheet and let Benny slip into bed with us.
I beat Benny downstairs the next morning at 7:00 A.M. and found Rocco putting a coffee pot and the makings for coffee in a small box. "Good, you're just in time Frankie—take this up to Gabe—he may want to have coffee in peace this morning," he told me as he handed me the box. "Make sure you knock first—if he doesn't answer just leave it outside the door," he instructed, dashing my hopes of possibly seeing the ebony stud naked. Just as I was heading for the door Benny entered and asked where I was going; of course when I told him he wanted to join me in delivering the coffee.
We made our way to the garage and up the side steps to the apartment above. Looking over at Benny I noticed he was grinning—it seemed he was just as keen at the prospect of catching our new yard man naked as I. Reaching the top of the steps he knocked and we heard a deep voice call out, "Entrate," and when I opened the door we were greeted by the glorious sight of a naked Gabriel with a white towel around his shoulders, it's brightness amplified by the darkness of his complexion, and the droplets of water on his dark skin shining like quicksilver.
We both stared open-mouthed at the wondrous sight—his cock was unlike anything I had ever seen—and I had seen many large cocks in my short life. His was a length I thought only came on ponies; it was hanging limp over an ample set of balls and soft must have been at least seven inches long and thick with a generous foreskin hanging from the tip. Finally Benny bumped me with his shoulder bringing me back to the present, "Sorry to bother you Gabriel; Rocco thought you might need a coffee pot," I told him holding up the box while still transfixed by the dark appendage. He gave me a knowing smile, and I could feel my cheeks blush.
"So who's going first?" Gabe asked, swinging his hips and causing his cock to swing back and forth and my mouth to water."
To be continued...
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