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Summary
If he closed his eyes, he could imagine his hand was Ryland's lips wrapped around his cock, mouth soft and pink and wet, blue eyes wide and lashes fluttering. Maybe he’d cry; he seemed like the kind of man who would cry with a cock down his throat — tears smearing against his glasses, knocked askew on his face, body shaking with small hiccupping sobs.
Driver likes his neighbour Ryland. Perhaps a little too much.
Series
- Part 2 of driving lessons
