He has an understanding but firm demeanor. He knows my errant ways and knows how to address them. He has a steely eye and its raised eyebrow, and a deep voice that he never has to raise. He smells good and augments that with a splash of spicy cologne. He has a large, well-manicured hand, and a strong and hairy forearm (that I love to see bared from his rolled-up shirt-sleeve while I stand before him). He has an innate sense of justice and mets out that justice mercilessly. He inflicts that justice to my bared and proffered backside as often as needed, for my own, good, and I love him for it, for who he is, for how we mesh.
When not in trouble, he makes me laugh as profusely as he makes me cry when I am in trouble. He shares with me his time and attention, meals and conversation, and perhaps most appreciated, his erect cock.
3 responses to “#52) In Praise of the Right Man”
I’ll be building upon this theme in the coming days, but wanted to write and post this now. That bejeweled masculine hand, and Ten’s sweet cheeks inspired me.
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I tried to crop this wonderful photo, focus just on his two hands and her lovely bum, but was unable to do so. I’m such a tech-incompetent! Pretend you see it cropped up-close.
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I think I was FINALLY able to resize this evocative photo that way I want it for THIS post! Whew!
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