Boşalmak.” Cum. I made spreadsheets on the computer, transcribing from the notes Burak kept by hand of his accounts. Gay sex My belly was flat and there was soft but darker hair running down the center of it. It offended me that anyone would do harm to his flawless form. There was my Burak, in his navy-blue tracksuit. I had not been there since I was 14 or so, but it did not seem much changed. I had to look this up, and it is called the iliac furrow, or Apollo’s belt. Cum. Even Burak’s looked modest in comparison.This one lay on the floor of the gym on a mat, and Burak first put a condom on the gigantic penis. Although he had once been an honored guest, he was now the man of the household, and I the guest. They were both very muscled, bigger than Burak, though not so balanced in their forms. She birthed me and fled in shame, and I have never known her since.I did not blame her, even years later when I sometimes overheard the Turkish men refer to me as orospu çocuğu, son of a whore.This is how Burak came to stay in the home where my grandparents raised me.I grew up in awe of him.
