add that to the list of things ive never thought about before lpsg.
LOL, yes.
OR
He arrives home the third Friday of every month with a spring in his step, a light in his eyes, a song in his heart as he closes the door of his '73 Plymouth Valiant (original paint, a car junkie's dream) and strides gleefully to the mailbox on his vine-encrusted front porch in order to retrieve the 8 1/2" x 11" parcel. Once inside the Craftsman Bungalow that he's called home for 52 years, he engages quickly but efficiently in the pre-opening ritual he's been a slave to for decades. Clothes changed, drink poured, things put away.....
And then, finally, blissfully, the pics are slid out of the oversized envelope. His hands tremble, his pulse races, his loins even stir a bit...as he casts his loving eyes over the latest glossy monthly volume of one little piece of his legacy....
ST cock pics....a baker's dozen shot with a Nikon 35mm...touched up and cropped for maximum visual effect...artistically and yet also clinically composed...professional quality for sure, a kohai's tribute to his CockCrafting Senpai...
Senpai's bespeckled eyes search voraciously over the pixellated landscape for any minute developments...
If he's lucky, perhaps he notices an infinitesimal tightening of the corona....
His last name is Rosencrantz....and when he sees a minute scarring on the glans due to a recent blowjob from an overenthusiastic Czech prostitute, 2 ml of precum seep out of his ancient, shrivelled, non-circ'd cock....