Josh, a vision with a jawline that could cleave, Had biceps sculpted, a smile that could deceive.
His hair, a waterfall of night, Yet here he sat, with a story tonight.
His date went bust, his Tinder a dud, Left with takeout and a blue balls no fun.
Basking in the strokes, a contented thing. Josh ran his fingers down his cock,
Fingers stretched, hard like a rock. “You’re my best friend, cock,” Josh sighed with a pout,
“Except for you that getting stretched out.”
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