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I hadn't really got a handle on heavyweight contender Anthony Joshua, so when he offered me chance to give him a bumming, I thought it'd be good to get to know him better.
We lay in bed, as I caressed his suspiciously muscular body. To get us in the mood, I thought we might have a drink or something.
"Got any weed, Anthony?" I asked.
He looked flushed, embarrassed, glancing at the floor, for reasons I know not why.
"Errrr... no, no, let's not get into that fam, er, mate," he said, "just think of me as wholesome, like Sugar Ray Leonard, or Willis from Diff'rent Strokes or something."
"Okay," I shrugged, and we got down to the bumming. At first it was hard, powerful, almost more than I could take. However, what I was really looking forward to was him sucking my dick, as I'd heard it said "after nine minutes Joshua won't be able to stop blowing."
Well, I realised that I'd completely gotten the wrong end of the stick, as after a short time bumming, Anthony was breathing as hard as an Eagles of Death Metal roadie looking at a Burkha.
I went for the blowie, and my taddywhacker landed on his chin.... weirdly, he jerked out of bed and started doing the Disco Duck. It was such a strange experience... one minute he was pounding me in the ring, the next his legs were weak as if he was post-cum.
Our bumming continued, and he went back to the basics, but in a very mechanical, robotic bumming style... I'd remembered then why Wlad always spoke so highly of him, though Joshua at least used his right hand to jerk me off, something Wlad never did.
I came. Sure, I came. And it was quite engrossing in its way. But... I wasn't sure. There was something a little cocky about him, something too "suspect" about his muscles, and maybe still too many questions about his bumming.
I walked down the hotel corridor and saw The Reed (TM).
"I've just had a bumming, Reed," I told him, "have you had a good night?"
I looked down, and he'd torn his home extension photographs to shreds - all 11,000 of them - and was in floods of tears.
"Just leave me alone," he said, "I don't want to talk about it."
We lay in bed, as I caressed his suspiciously muscular body. To get us in the mood, I thought we might have a drink or something.
"Got any weed, Anthony?" I asked.
He looked flushed, embarrassed, glancing at the floor, for reasons I know not why.
"Errrr... no, no, let's not get into that fam, er, mate," he said, "just think of me as wholesome, like Sugar Ray Leonard, or Willis from Diff'rent Strokes or something."
"Okay," I shrugged, and we got down to the bumming. At first it was hard, powerful, almost more than I could take. However, what I was really looking forward to was him sucking my dick, as I'd heard it said "after nine minutes Joshua won't be able to stop blowing."
Well, I realised that I'd completely gotten the wrong end of the stick, as after a short time bumming, Anthony was breathing as hard as an Eagles of Death Metal roadie looking at a Burkha.
I went for the blowie, and my taddywhacker landed on his chin.... weirdly, he jerked out of bed and started doing the Disco Duck. It was such a strange experience... one minute he was pounding me in the ring, the next his legs were weak as if he was post-cum.
Our bumming continued, and he went back to the basics, but in a very mechanical, robotic bumming style... I'd remembered then why Wlad always spoke so highly of him, though Joshua at least used his right hand to jerk me off, something Wlad never did.
I came. Sure, I came. And it was quite engrossing in its way. But... I wasn't sure. There was something a little cocky about him, something too "suspect" about his muscles, and maybe still too many questions about his bumming.
I walked down the hotel corridor and saw The Reed (TM).
"I've just had a bumming, Reed," I told him, "have you had a good night?"
I looked down, and he'd torn his home extension photographs to shreds - all 11,000 of them - and was in floods of tears.
"Just leave me alone," he said, "I don't want to talk about it."
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