// I'd take the fall—I got you covered when there's no one at all //
His hands slide and pat his sculpture into place at her groin, gaze dipping from his work briefly with a loud, helpless laugh as she tries to keep his muddy honkers in place. "Gods, I can't wait until yours give me black eyes when you bend down too fast," because that's when I can use the eyepatch table he grins, effortlessly able to picture loving her through every stage of life, even if currently it feels like they'll be invincible and untouchable forever. Taking care of his knees? Pffft, they're nothing but steel and grease baby.
Naturally, he builds a massively erect penis for her, it's tip reaching well to her naval, because no one wants a flaccid chub to work with, not even in pretend. Ensuring adequate girth, a leftward lean, and a sprinkle of loose foliage for veins and hair, he lifts up his hands abruptly as if a teacher just yelled pencils down during a test. He fits his thumb and pointer finger to his chin in grave assessment of his completed work, nodding at it. His attention lifts to find her absolutely beaming with suggestive chaos, and all his seriousness crumbles away instantly, morning fog burned back by her sunlight.
He straddles over top her without hesitation, knees fitting around her hips, though he keeps his weight on his own legs, despite leaning back into a theatrically fake toss of his head as if she's giving it to him good. His laughter breaks the scene apart though, and he tips back down, hands falling on either side of his shoulder. "What could," he chuckles, eyes bright as they drift over her. "Mud dick treatments—we promise it'll boost your testosterone! Or, mud dick rides—we guarantee a dirty time!" He shakes his head, rejecting both with his extremely professional spa opinions. "The mud titties though...you could be on to something." For good measure, he dips his chest down onto hers, smearing the mud on both of them between their bodies.
"Is that right?" he asks mid-grind, popping back up. "Are you gonna paint my nails purple?"
Naturally, he builds a massively erect penis for her, it's tip reaching well to her naval, because no one wants a flaccid chub to work with, not even in pretend. Ensuring adequate girth, a leftward lean, and a sprinkle of loose foliage for veins and hair, he lifts up his hands abruptly as if a teacher just yelled pencils down during a test. He fits his thumb and pointer finger to his chin in grave assessment of his completed work, nodding at it. His attention lifts to find her absolutely beaming with suggestive chaos, and all his seriousness crumbles away instantly, morning fog burned back by her sunlight.
He straddles over top her without hesitation, knees fitting around her hips, though he keeps his weight on his own legs, despite leaning back into a theatrically fake toss of his head as if she's giving it to him good. His laughter breaks the scene apart though, and he tips back down, hands falling on either side of his shoulder. "What could," he chuckles, eyes bright as they drift over her. "Mud dick treatments—we promise it'll boost your testosterone! Or, mud dick rides—we guarantee a dirty time!" He shakes his head, rejecting both with his extremely professional spa opinions. "The mud titties though...you could be on to something." For good measure, he dips his chest down onto hers, smearing the mud on both of them between their bodies.
"Is that right?" he asks mid-grind, popping back up. "Are you gonna paint my nails purple?"
Kaisel
// When you need somebody to turn to—Nobody got you the way I do //
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
