Today I switch back to a cutting cycle, a shift in my diet and exercise designed to lower my body fat while retaining the muscle I’ve put on over the past three months. As much as I can retain, anyway.
Good lord, I’m hungover. I went to a foodie expo yesterday, which meant there was extended, low-dose day-drinking involved. Not good.
Hair of the dog, please! Like one of the bartenders said yesterday, you have to keep feeding your liver to keep it happy. If that means a gay pool party or brunch, so be it.
Even though he had the most powerful, futuristic-looking portable douche I’ve ever seen, mister was not ready for me. You know I like to go up and around the corner, but I guess he didn’t get the memo. And I’ve fucked this guy once before…with the same result.
OMG. My hole has been stretched, and my throat is torn up. Bearfriend’s got a big old dick, and I got carried away! I can’t help myself. Our sexual chemistry is so strong that I can’t keep my paws off him when he’s around.
Besides, it’s only fair that I get damaged every once in a while. I’ve wrecked his holes lots of times…