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#129（UpperLowerPartsTotal29Min LowerPart）ThreeSuitedMen, AGameOfDesire
Three suited men, a game of desire.
The little milk dog obediently kneels down, letting us step on him under our feet. His nose tip buried in the socks, deeply sniffing the man's scent. The dust on the shoe soles, the sweat stains on the socks, all licked clean and dry.
We look at each other, sneering, treating him like a plaything and ravaging him back and forth. Fingers tear open his collar, the other hand presses his head down hard—not only shoes, not only socks, he also has to open his mouth to welcome our hard and hot big meat rods.
The sound of his throat being pried open, the eye corners wet with tears, only makes us more excited.
Under the authority of the suits, the little milk dog can only be toyed with and filled, until he completely becomes our exclusive desire relief tool.
The little milk dog obediently kneels down, letting us step on him under our feet. His nose tip buried in the socks, deeply sniffing the man's scent. The dust on the shoe soles, the sweat stains on the socks, all licked clean and dry.
We look at each other, sneering, treating him like a plaything and ravaging him back and forth. Fingers tear open his collar, the other hand presses his head down hard—not only shoes, not only socks, he also has to open his mouth to welcome our hard and hot big meat rods.
The sound of his throat being pried open, the eye corners wet with tears, only makes us more excited.
Under the authority of the suits, the little milk dog can only be toyed with and filled, until he completely becomes our exclusive desire relief tool.
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