The Bears are not going to Sodom

It was a morning like many others, cold, with lots of clouds you guindadas from heaven, recalled with nostalgia Ernesto, that great and mature man, peering every morning, I got used to look at his face framed in that thick black beard three days, I never imagined that I could overcome my shyness and dare . conquest

I remember that afternoon wind and rain I approached the huge building where acted as foreman authoritarian; I felt like a fool entering his little full of braces and wires office Anyway any excuse was valid to have my view of that issue that had captivated me, I was a big boy almost thirty years, not a few men were part of my erotic and emotional blog, all of it full of strange, unusual circumstances now he had in front of me, not even occurred to me to articulate words, only I felt the flash of his eyes, his big eyes black and deep, was a silent dialogue, but an almost painful intensity but full of magic, walked slowly toward me, He took his huge hands my head, kissed me sinking his lips on my mouth, his tongue exploring my throat, sweeping his beard my cheeks, making hear their hoarse gasps.

I, subjugated, hugged his broad shoulders, I took refuge in his chest black chiffon, felt its lush testicles on my thighs, his hard and great member exploring my body, it was the language exacerbated by two men, never before experienced that overwhelming stream and sinful, not only words were given was the volcanic expression of our hands, our lips, our gender, and the final epilogue of this warm and gooey nectar splashed on my belly; It was another day, the light seeping through the small window.