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Grooving With Mr. Khan: The Amir Story
I first invited Amir Khan round my house just for a few drinks, maybe a light petting session. Certainly nothing below the waist. And yet there was something of an understated dish about the lad. I suspected he wasn't quite as good at bumming as Danny Garcia or Briedis Prescott - even Lamont Peterson could arguably suck better cock when given a medicinal helping hand.
Yet soon Amir's natural, easy and self-congratulatory charm won me over, and I found his tongue in my mouth, though not in a gay way.
"I've always got time fer bumming," Amir boasted, "that's the kind of down t'Earth guy I am... always got time fer people. I wanna build us own gym, just so people can get bummed - ter give summat back to us community, like."
There was something slappable about his mock-humility, but not as slappable as his juicy brown arse - no ****. By this time Amir had placed his hand inside my pants and began to rapidly shake my old fella.
It was a strange sensation. He was wanking me faster than I'd possibly ever been wanked off before, but there was no real strength in it. I could hardly see his hand on my taddywhacker it was so fast, but I felt I could take it for 36 minutes without becoming spent.
As you guys know, I don't like racial humour, never have, so I'll make no reference to the aroma of Amir. But suffice it to say, some birds in the garden thirty feet away were falling out of the trees and had to be given oxygen masks to help them recover.
Eventually, I decided enough was enough, and, quite simply dear reader, I wanted a blowie. I teased young Khan by placing my throbbing bell end upon his lower lip, asking him how much he wanted it.
"I want it loads," he giggled, "I just love cock and owt."
Suddenly, to my eternal chagrin I let my chopper slip out of my hand and accidentally land flush on Amir's chin.
The next thing that happened was almost indescribable... Amir's legs began to involuntarily do the can can, and he staggered and crashed all over my living room, knocking over my TV, and repeatedly falling over the carpet. The silly **** fell over the back of my sofa, his arse in the air, and I knew it was time to call it a night.
Amir couldn't apologise enough. "It were dead strange and owt," he eloquently informed me, "us 'ead were dead clear and owt, I knew where I were, but as soon as bell end 'it chin, I just couldn't control us legs or owt."
I shook my head and showed Amir to the door, only to be stunned to find Wazza on the other side. That bastard Amir had two-timed me, hadn't he?
"I had a booty call," explained Wazza, helping Amir get some strength back in his legs by excitingly nuzzling on his bell.
I laughed to myself a little... Wazza was sloppy seconds to me, and that felt good. But as I watched Wazza gulp down every last drop of man syrup and then go round the back to rim young Amir, I felt nauseous as I heard him say "the Danny Garcia bumming was called off too early, Amir... you would have got your head clear and started bumming him again. And you'll bum Floyd."
It was my home, but I left them to it. Inside I felt only darkness.
Yet soon Amir's natural, easy and self-congratulatory charm won me over, and I found his tongue in my mouth, though not in a gay way.
"I've always got time fer bumming," Amir boasted, "that's the kind of down t'Earth guy I am... always got time fer people. I wanna build us own gym, just so people can get bummed - ter give summat back to us community, like."
There was something slappable about his mock-humility, but not as slappable as his juicy brown arse - no ****. By this time Amir had placed his hand inside my pants and began to rapidly shake my old fella.
It was a strange sensation. He was wanking me faster than I'd possibly ever been wanked off before, but there was no real strength in it. I could hardly see his hand on my taddywhacker it was so fast, but I felt I could take it for 36 minutes without becoming spent.
As you guys know, I don't like racial humour, never have, so I'll make no reference to the aroma of Amir. But suffice it to say, some birds in the garden thirty feet away were falling out of the trees and had to be given oxygen masks to help them recover.
Eventually, I decided enough was enough, and, quite simply dear reader, I wanted a blowie. I teased young Khan by placing my throbbing bell end upon his lower lip, asking him how much he wanted it.
"I want it loads," he giggled, "I just love cock and owt."
Suddenly, to my eternal chagrin I let my chopper slip out of my hand and accidentally land flush on Amir's chin.
The next thing that happened was almost indescribable... Amir's legs began to involuntarily do the can can, and he staggered and crashed all over my living room, knocking over my TV, and repeatedly falling over the carpet. The silly **** fell over the back of my sofa, his arse in the air, and I knew it was time to call it a night.
Amir couldn't apologise enough. "It were dead strange and owt," he eloquently informed me, "us 'ead were dead clear and owt, I knew where I were, but as soon as bell end 'it chin, I just couldn't control us legs or owt."
I shook my head and showed Amir to the door, only to be stunned to find Wazza on the other side. That bastard Amir had two-timed me, hadn't he?
"I had a booty call," explained Wazza, helping Amir get some strength back in his legs by excitingly nuzzling on his bell.
I laughed to myself a little... Wazza was sloppy seconds to me, and that felt good. But as I watched Wazza gulp down every last drop of man syrup and then go round the back to rim young Amir, I felt nauseous as I heard him say "the Danny Garcia bumming was called off too early, Amir... you would have got your head clear and started bumming him again. And you'll bum Floyd."
It was my home, but I left them to it. Inside I felt only darkness.
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