I watch as his head dips down, seemingly looking at the floor before brown orbs grab hold of mine once again. Instead of answering me, he reaches over again and brings a bottle of conditioner I know smells like citrus into view. Then he steps backward, away from the camera. Once. Twice. And then I see it. His cock. Standing at full mast, begging to be touched as he pours the liquid into his palm. “Yeah, Pen,” he finally says, his voice low, almost blending with the sound of the water. He grabs his cock, sliding his fist up and down the length, coating and lathering it. “I think it’s pretty
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