He's Not Gay !

These guys hustle their boy Kevin upstairs, slap extra cash in my hand, and tell me to make sure he finishes happy. Kevin hasn't got a clue. So I walk in smiling like I'm just there to rub him down and get that rich-tissue sore spot most guys ignore. My hands start slow, moving firm on tight muscle until his breathing changes. I can feel him noticing my grip, how warm my palms are, the soft press when I lean over. After a couple strokes he's putty. I straighten up, peel my top off slow, then wiggle the bra free so my tits bounce. The tats across my ribs catch the light and his eyes track every line. I slather oil over my chest until the skin shines, climb up, and drag those slick tits across his pecs. Kevin's cock is throbbing under the towel. I peel it back and dive in, lips stretched, taking every inch in one slow swallow until my nose brushes his stomach. Spit drips down his shaft while I work him hard, tongue swirling every time I come up for air, keeping him twitching and aching for more.