Boning My Brunette Candy In The Kitchen

He was a stocky man, completely bald on top but with a neatly trimmed white moustache. He always wore dark, neatly pressed trousers and had a taste for striped shirts. His shoes shone immaculately, whether brown or black, and he always wore a matching thick leather belt. It soon became clear to me that this handsome old devil was gay, whereas my own sexuality had always been a little, how shall we say, ambiguous? Despite myself, I fancied him something rotten. I was amazed to find he’d refitted one of the downstairs rooms of his home as a bijou barber’s salon. There was just one leather padded adjustable barber’s chair, but the illusion was completed by all the usual trappings – a huge mirror lit from above, clippers, razors, combs, towels, tubs of dressings, styptic pencils and even a display of what appeared to be fine old Fetherlite and Gossamer condom advertisements. On hooks to the side of the chair hung a back mirror, a razor strop and somewhat incongruously, a school cane. I. Maybe more, and the two monstrous sperm-bloated balls hanging at the base gave it the appearance of a huge field piece ready to roar into wildly belching flames of action.Jane felt a tremor of tension sweep through the room. The circle of faces strained, leering and gaping until their eyes seemed to bulge from their sockets in their effort to get a bird's eye view of the marvel of nature before them. The gigantic cock reeked of bestiality and jutted out from his belly like the raw throbbing weapon of a young pony, adding an animal-like tension to the already depraved proceedings. The prostitute-girlfriend, her black eyes flashing in awe, trembled slightly when she approached the man. Then she wavered hesitantly for a moment as she stood naked in front of him, regarding him with a confused look that showed she didn't believe he was human. Slowly, a lewd grin swept over her face. Then she lowered her hand tentatively and pushed it down the monstrous thickness of his inhuman-looking.
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