Bjer

Powerful arms. Gentle hands.

“His hands on my back? Slow. His fingers as they smooth my hair back from my eyes? Gentle. The strength, confidently applied, as he lifts me high until my legs straddle his head and my head knocks against the ceiling, so that he can take my cock between his lips? Everything gentle, everything calm, everything beautiful. His circus gymnastics are controlled, and in their way perfect. He lifts me and spins me and undresses me and pins me, splayed and beautiful, so that when he enters me at last I am so ready that he slides in easily. The strength of him as he holds me down with his hand. The power of him, skilfully delivered through the meat of his haunches, and along the length of his shaft. He splits me, as I knew he must split me. The hand in the water told me how it must be. Later, when it is between my lips, I see it compares to the size of the King. Qatan. Bjer’s looks just like the cock of a king.”