As I unwrapped the first dildo from its vintage packaging, a rush of excitement coursed through my veins. The phallic toy’s worn surface seemed to whisper promises of sultry nights and morning-after satisfaction. I couldn’t wait to put it to good use – or so I thought.
The real showstopper was yet to arrive, the man who would make this antique dildo a mere memory as soon as he stepped into my apartment. His name was Max, and his cock was the stuff of gay porn fantasies: a chiseled column of tanned muscle, perfectly proportioned, and standing at attention even in repose.
I couldn’t take my eyes off it as he walked towards me, that dick leading the way like a beacon of erotic promise. My mouth watered at the prospect of wrapping my lips around its smooth length, of feeling it thicken with each suck, of hearing Max’s husky groans as I worked his cock over.
Before I could even think about it, he was stripping off his clothes, revealing a body that seemed sculpted by the gods themselves. His dick sprang free, and I felt my jaw drop in awe. It was a sight to behold – a work of art that demanded to be worshipped.
With a wicked grin, Max dropped down onto his knees, and I could sense the unspoken challenge: would I take him up on his offer? The answer was more than obvious as I reached for the dildo, its presence now an afterthought in the face of this living, breathing cock. It was time to trade in the old for the new, the fake for the real.
As our lips met, and Max’s dick slid past my eager tongue, I knew that this was where it was at – raw, unbridled, and utterly gay. The dildo might have been the starting point, but it was only a precursor to the unforgettable night of oral sex, cock-sucking, and sheer bliss that lay ahead.
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