“Are you writing beat poetry?” I laughed. We moved together, enjoying sliding in and out as we kissed and fondled.“I have an inspiration in me. ... love you, Jacob.”“Yes,” I hissed. “I will always love you.” We were too focused on each other and making love to continue our conversation. Sometimes, making love to Donna was a long conversation simply punctuated with orgasms. This night, we were focused on each other’s pleasure and conversation came in phrases rather than paragraphs.“You know .... And then for a few moments, the twelve of them stood, each with his cock deeply embedded inside his trainer, waiting for the music to start and establish the beat to which they would coordinate this twelve-man simultaneous fuck. Once the music started and the twelve of them got into their stride their technique was a sight to behold. The audience was treated to a side view of twelve muscular studs each with a huge fuck-stick which was reciprocating like the connecting rod of a steam locomotive. More

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