DJ

DJ unzips his trousers and pulls out his cock. One thick slab of meat springs free, already rigid and begging for touch. He strokes it with tender care, drawing the foreskin up over the swollen tip, then easing it back, smooth and teasing. Pleasure hums through him. He tugs his balls free next, cradling them in his palm before shedding his pants and shorts entirely, kicking them aside. Now his treasures lie bare, ready for indulgence. My mind drifts to that balcony, Romeo's words echoing as he spied Juliet's cheek cradled in her hand: 'O, that I were a glove upon that hand, that I might touch that cheek!' God, I get it now. Heat surges in me as DJ grips his sturdy shaft, fist gliding up and down—slow at first, deliberate, then quickening, relentless, the rhythm climbing until ecstasy bursts forth in a heavy spurt of cum. Pure, raw verse.