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Click hereAnd he would have done anything I asked him to do.
I fucked him on and off that first afternoon, tenderly and languidly, on his back with his slender dancer's legs running up my chest, in a side split on the edge of my bed, and him on his belly, with me slowly and deeply riding his slim hips and perfectly globular butt cheeks.
I asked him if I could be his daddy lover through his training in at Nicosia station, and he said yes in a breathy voice. I asked him if he would stay the night in my bed, and he stuttered a yes. And I asked him if he would move in with me, and he started to cry. And then I gathered his body in my arms and stood in the middle of the room, with his pelvis plastered to my midsection, and slow fucked him again while he trembled and sighed and whimpered in my close embrace.
All the time I felt nothing, and to keep myself hard, I had to think of Fazil's visitation and what he could be doing to me now if I'd gone with him. But this part of my plan had worked out perfectly.