It was a poem written for Neeshu.“The shower of the golden girl,Bestowed and carved on my canvas of love and dream.In my arms you glide like an ange....Feel thy butterflies in my soul.To shiver your spines.Up-to your and my core.”Neeshu was just beaming with joy and smile. This made both of them melt in the cold weather. Neeshu put the poem on the table. She was oozing with emotions and hot and dark fantasies inside her. Neeshu just put her hand on Satvik’s jeans button and unbuttoned it. It was. His thick prick pulses in Karl’s mouth, just begging for release even if he isn’t.Karl renews his efforts, going deeper with every bob of his head. Howard grunts every time his swollen head grazes the back of the other man’s throat, making a slight gurgling sound each time. Finally, Karl goes down and the entrance finally gives way, letting the tool to nestle into the reaches of his throat. Saliva drips from Karl’s tightly drawn lips that are now resting flush with Howard’s sack.Howard’s eyes. More

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