It is not just the shirt, dimpled chin and messed up hair which makes it easy to picture thirty-year-old Donovan as a beer-guzzling, skirt-chasing frat rat gone crazy. This Casanova is still just as ready as he was to hump anything that goes, and still has the demeanor of a university guy who struck on on the x-rated book shop compared to the library. He surely personifies it, although the term if it feels good, do it might not have been debated by Donovan. We know in short order something that feels good to him is riding his own finger, whether he’s jacking off or eating pussy, and he also knows what it is like to be on the receiving end of something unnaturally bigger than one of his own digits. Equally as a top as a bottom isn’t any stranger to all-male backdoor action , although it is the eight inches he’s in front that he enjoys. Andin short order, when we see thick throbberwe instantly understand why.Licking his lips and massaging his crotch, Donovan starts an impromptu rendition of Sexual Animal House by getting rid of his shirt, peeling off his gray wifebeater, and showing a hair-covered torso that’s only as manly as that grin is boyish. As Donovan pushes the nips in the center of the furry manscape, it is clear that as much as he loves that big fat dick of his during his daily stroke sessionshe does not just masturbate together with his penis, but uses his whole body for a pleasure expansion to the magical wand in his trousers. A moan escapes his lips packed bulge in his shorts leaks out of the fly and as his trousers open. As he turns around and his trousers slide down his solid, meaty thighs, the ink of a tat in the centre is a life-sized drawing of the rear bone underneath. However, if he turns around, its his completely exposed man-bone that ignites the attention, leaving an image as indelible.His cries are loud and deep as we follow the dark trail of hair along his pecs, across his belly, and also to this lush chestnut-colored garden beneath that tree trunk of a hard cock beneath. Rock tough, tender pink, crisscrossed with veins, and also sporting a helmet head that was flaring, his cock climbs from his body like the obelisk of masculinity that’s clearly the middle of the universe. He moans the loudest when he squeezes his cock head against these hungry buttocks cheeks, although his palms over once explore the tender flesh of his hole. As the sensation alone pushes at him over the 15, that is his magical button. Grabbing his balls with the other with his shaft and one hand , he strikes off a thick load. Like the school child trapped in a mans body he can be, his Sexual Peter Pan rubs the jizz to his hairy belly, proving you can take the guy from the frat house, but you cant shoot all the frat house out of the man.
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