“Folks out walkin’ their dogs, too.” The mention of passersby sends a jolt of excitement through you, amplifying the forbidden thrill of your actions. Gay porn “I… don’t cook much,” you murmur, your voice quivering with arousal, another moan escaping as your fingers find the perfect rhythm.“Dog walker’s back,” he says, glancing briefly at the same man circling the lot, but his eyes snap back to your lap, his stare unrelenting. “I’m no chef, but I make a mean stew.” His words are ordinary, but his stare is unrelenting, and it’s driving you wild, the contrast between his casual chatter and your secret, filthy actions pushing you closer to the edge.Your right hand speeds up, still hidden beneath the sweatpants, rubbing your sissy clitty with more purpose, the precum leaking steadily, the wet spot spreading. His gaze flicks up to meet yours, a flicker of understanding in his eyes, but he keeps talking, his voice unchanged. “Gets busy this time of day, don’t it? His eyes, though, start to wander, flicking to your lap more often than your face, lingering on the pink drawstring, the rolled-down waistband, the way your hands rest there. A soft moan escapes your lips, louder than before, and his eyes narrow slightly, but he doesn’t break the flow
