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Princeuncut

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Adult profile- Prince uncut

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Shy Suraj Part-1 Suraj lived in the room right next to mine. Door always shut. Barely spoke. The kind of quiet that made people assume he was soft or shy. I used to think the same. Until I started noticing the towel. Every time he stepped out it was the same thin white one, tied low, the cotton so cheap it went nearly see-through under the corridor lights. You could see the heavy shape of him moving under it the thick outline swinging when he walked, the darker roundness of the head pressing forward against the fabric. Sometimes when he turned or adjusted the knot the towel would gap for half a second and you’d catch the tip: just the dark, smooth head, foreskin still half-covering it, before the cloth fell closed again. Never the full thing. Just enough to leave you standing there longer than you should, staring at the closed door after he disappeared. That was the version of him in the hostel. Careful. Quiet. Almost never fully exposed. The version in the college washroom was different. I walked in one afternoon and took the urinal next to his without thinking. He was already standing there, one hand holding himself out, pissing in a steady stream while talking to his friend on the other side. I only saw the shape at first the thick curve of it in his fist, the way the foreskin had rolled back just enough for the tip to show, shiny and dark, a thin string of precum mixing with the piss at the end. He didn’t hurry. Feet planted wide, shoulders loose, like he had all the time in the world. His voice was low but clear. “Saali girlfriend meri kabhi choosti hi nahi, madarchod. Bolti hai lund bada hai, muh mein nahi jaayega. Roz ka drama. Maine bola try kar seedha le le, dheere dheere habit ho jayegi, lekin nahi. Kabhi kabhi lagta hai kisi randi se hi chuswa loon.” His friend laughed. “Bhosdi ke, tu bahut bada madarchood hai. Kitna bada hai jo woh dar rahi hai?” Suraj gave a small, lazy shake of his cock, showed him his cock, the tip sliding in and out of the foreskin for a second before he answered. “Kaafi. Haath mein bhi pura nahi aa raha h dekh. Aur yeh dekh, abhi bhi thoda tight feel ho raha hai.” He shook it again, slower this time, watching the head appear and disappear, that same private smile on his face. Then he pushed it back into his underwear like nothing had happened and kept talking as they walked out. I just got to see the glance of the tip before he could notice it….follow and share for part -2 ☺️

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Shy Suraj Part-1 Suraj lived in the room right next to mine. Door always shut. Barely spoke. The kind of quiet that made people assume he was soft or shy. I used to think the same. Until I started noticing the towel. Every time he stepped out it was the same thin white one, tied low, the cotton so cheap it went nearly see-through under the corridor lights. You could see the heavy shape of him moving under it the thick outline swinging when he walked, the darker roundness of the head pressing forward against the fabric. Sometimes when he turned or adjusted the knot the towel would gap for half a second and you’d catch the tip: just the dark, smooth head, foreskin still half-covering it, before the cloth fell closed again. Never the full thing. Just enough to leave you standing there longer than you should, staring at the closed door after he disappeared. That was the version of him in the hostel. Careful. Quiet. Almost never fully exposed. The version in the college washroom was different. I walked in one afternoon and took the urinal next to his without thinking. He was already standing there, one hand holding himself out, pissing in a steady stream while talking to his friend on the other side. I only saw the shape at first the thick curve of it in his fist, the way the foreskin had rolled back just enough for the tip to show, shiny and dark, a thin string of precum mixing with the piss at the end. He didn’t hurry. Feet planted wide, shoulders loose, like he had all the time in the world. His voice was low but clear. “Saali girlfriend meri kabhi choosti hi nahi, madarchod. Bolti hai lund bada hai, muh mein nahi jaayega. Roz ka drama. Maine bola try kar seedha le le, dheere dheere habit ho jayegi, lekin nahi. Kabhi kabhi lagta hai kisi randi se hi chuswa loon.” His friend laughed. “Bhosdi ke, tu bahut bada madarchood hai. Kitna bada hai jo woh dar rahi hai?” Suraj gave a small, lazy shake of his cock, showed him his cock, the tip sliding in and out of the foreskin for a second before he answered. “Kaafi. Haath mein bhi pura nahi aa raha h dekh. Aur yeh dekh, abhi bhi thoda tight feel ho raha hai.” He shook it again, slower this time, watching the head appear and disappear, that same private smile on his face. Then he pushed it back into his underwear like nothing had happened and kept talking as they walked out. I just got to see the glance of the tip before he could notice it….follow and share for part -2 ☺️

129,587 görüntüleme

Part-1 Horny Ankit! I had just shifted to a new rental room in a quiet colony near MP Nagar, Bhopal. Second-floor flat, shared bathroom, small balcony that opened onto the terrace. The previous tenant had left, and the landlord put a new guy in the room next to min Ankit, 22, second-year mechanical engineering student from some private college. Tall, lean, curly hair always a little messy, and that permanent half-smile like he already knew something dirty about you. The first time I saw him properly he was standing in the doorway of his room wearing only black underwear, one hand scratching his stomach, the other holding a half-empty water bottle. His shirt was nowhere. He looked me up and down once and just said, “Bhai, Ankit. Engineering. Tu kaun hai?” After that I started noticing the pattern. Ankit lived in underwear. Morning, afternoon, night same thing. Sometimes the same pair for two days. When I knocked to ask for something, the door would open and there he’d be, half-hard or fully hard, cock outlined thick against the thin cotton, the head already pushing out a little because he was uncut and the foreskin sat heavy. The room always smelled the same: warm skin, musk, dried precum, and that sharp, salty scent of cum that never fully left the air. His bedsheet had permanent pale stains. The pillow near the wall had a darker one. Sometimes the whole room felt humid with it. One evening I went over because the Wi-Fi was down. Door was unlocked. Ankit was lying on his back in just grey underwear, one hand inside, slowly stroking. His cock was thick, dark, the heavy bush above it black and dense. When he pulled the waistband down a little, the uncut head slipped free, shiny and already leaking. He didn’t even stop. “Aa gaya?” he said casually, still moving his fist. “Aa, baith. Network nahi chal raha kya?” I sat on the only chair. The smell hit harder up close pure cock and old cum. He kept stroking, eyes half-closed, then looked at me and grinned. “Bhai, din bhar khada rehta hai. College mein bhi. Professor ke saamne bhi kabhi-kabhi. Control nahi hota.” He squeezed the base and a clear drop rolled down the shaft into the bush. “Dekh, kitna precum. Roz subah uthte hi geela hota hai. Raat ko do-teen baar nikaalna padta hai warna so nahi sakta.” I asked him if he ever got tired of it. He laughed like the question was stupid. “Thakna? Yeh toh natural hai. Mera lund hi aisa hai hamesha hungry. Uncut hai na, isliye aur sensitive. Foreskin ke andar smell bhi strong rehta hai. Kabhi try kiya tune?” He pushed the foreskin back slowly so I could see the shiny head, then let it slide forward again. The wet sound was loud in the quiet room. A few days later we were both on the terrace after sunset. The colony was quiet. Ankit had come up in only a loose white vest and the same black underwear. He leaned on the railing, looking down at the road where two girls from the neighbouring building were walking past one in jeans, one in a short kurti. His eyes stayed on them the whole time. After a minute I noticed the front of his underwear had started to tent. Hard. Thick. The head was already making a wet spot. He didn’t even try to hide it. Just adjusted himself once with the heel of his hand and kept staring. “Dekh raha hai unko?” he said, voice low. “Woh wali jeans wali… gaand tight hai. Kurti wali ki thighs dekh. Bhopal mein aisi ladkiyan kam milti hain jo itni freely ghumti hain.” He pushed the waistband down a little so the upper half of his cock was free. The heavy bush framed it. The uncut head was dark and shiny, already dripping.

Part-1 Horny Ankit! I had just shifted to a new rental room in a quiet colony near MP Nagar, Bhopal. Second-floor flat, shared bathroom, small balcony that opened onto the terrace. The previous tenant had left, and the landlord put a new guy in the room next to min Ankit, 22, second-year mechanical engineering student from some private college. Tall, lean, curly hair always a little messy, and that permanent half-smile like he already knew something dirty about you. The first time I saw him properly he was standing in the doorway of his room wearing only black underwear, one hand scratching his stomach, the other holding a half-empty water bottle. His shirt was nowhere. He looked me up and down once and just said, “Bhai, Ankit. Engineering. Tu kaun hai?” After that I started noticing the pattern. Ankit lived in underwear. Morning, afternoon, night same thing. Sometimes the same pair for two days. When I knocked to ask for something, the door would open and there he’d be, half-hard or fully hard, cock outlined thick against the thin cotton, the head already pushing out a little because he was uncut and the foreskin sat heavy. The room always smelled the same: warm skin, musk, dried precum, and that sharp, salty scent of cum that never fully left the air. His bedsheet had permanent pale stains. The pillow near the wall had a darker one. Sometimes the whole room felt humid with it. One evening I went over because the Wi-Fi was down. Door was unlocked. Ankit was lying on his back in just grey underwear, one hand inside, slowly stroking. His cock was thick, dark, the heavy bush above it black and dense. When he pulled the waistband down a little, the uncut head slipped free, shiny and already leaking. He didn’t even stop. “Aa gaya?” he said casually, still moving his fist. “Aa, baith. Network nahi chal raha kya?” I sat on the only chair. The smell hit harder up close pure cock and old cum. He kept stroking, eyes half-closed, then looked at me and grinned. “Bhai, din bhar khada rehta hai. College mein bhi. Professor ke saamne bhi kabhi-kabhi. Control nahi hota.” He squeezed the base and a clear drop rolled down the shaft into the bush. “Dekh, kitna precum. Roz subah uthte hi geela hota hai. Raat ko do-teen baar nikaalna padta hai warna so nahi sakta.” I asked him if he ever got tired of it. He laughed like the question was stupid. “Thakna? Yeh toh natural hai. Mera lund hi aisa hai hamesha hungry. Uncut hai na, isliye aur sensitive. Foreskin ke andar smell bhi strong rehta hai. Kabhi try kiya tune?” He pushed the foreskin back slowly so I could see the shiny head, then let it slide forward again. The wet sound was loud in the quiet room. A few days later we were both on the terrace after sunset. The colony was quiet. Ankit had come up in only a loose white vest and the same black underwear. He leaned on the railing, looking down at the road where two girls from the neighbouring building were walking past one in jeans, one in a short kurti. His eyes stayed on them the whole time. After a minute I noticed the front of his underwear had started to tent. Hard. Thick. The head was already making a wet spot. He didn’t even try to hide it. Just adjusted himself once with the heel of his hand and kept staring. “Dekh raha hai unko?” he said, voice low. “Woh wali jeans wali… gaand tight hai. Kurti wali ki thighs dekh. Bhopal mein aisi ladkiyan kam milti hain jo itni freely ghumti hain.” He pushed the waistband down a little so the upper half of his cock was free. The heavy bush framed it. The uncut head was dark and shiny, already dripping.

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Part-2 Horny Ankit! “Saala abhi se itna hard ho gaya. Bas soch raha hoon… agar aaj raat dono aati, pehle jeans wali ko wall pe laga ke peeche se leta. Phir kurti wali ko god mein utha ke. Dono ko ek saath chodna hai mann kar raha hai.” He started stroking slowly, right there on the terrace, not caring if anyone looked up. “Mera lund uncut hai na, isliye andar se bohot garam rehta hai. Jab kisi ke andar jaata hai toh pehle thoda tight feel hota hai, phir soft. Aur cum bohot nikalta hai. Ek baar nikaala toh lagta hai doosra bhi nikalega. College ke washroom mein do-teen baar nikaal chuka hoon din mein.” He looked at me, still stroking, foreskin sliding up and down over the wet head. “Tu bhi sochta hoga na kabhi? Ki seedha kisi random ladki ko bol du ‘Aaj raat tera pura nikaal lunga.’ Main toh sochta rehta hoon. Kabhi-kabhi lagta hai bas ek baar kisi ko pakad ke, bina condom ke, andar tak daal du. Smell bhi usko feel hoga mera cock ka, cum ka. Room mein toh roz yehi smell rehta hai. Tu notice kiya hoga.” He squeezed the head and another thick drop of precum fell onto the terrace floor. “Aaj raat bhi nikaalunga. Do baar. Ek abhi, ek sone se pehle. Warna subah tak itna tight rahega ki chalne mein dikkat hogi.” He kept talking like that for a long time — about fucking the girls he’d seen, about how much he leaked, about how his bush got sticky by the end of the day, about how he sometimes slept with the same underwear just so the smell stayed strong. The whole time his cock stayed hard, dark, uncut, and heavy in his hand, the wet sound of his fist the only other noise on the quiet Bhopal terrace. After that night I stopped knocking before entering his room. There was no point. He was almost always hard, almost always half-naked, and the air always smelled exactly the same pure cock and cum.

Part-2 Horny Ankit! “Saala abhi se itna hard ho gaya. Bas soch raha hoon… agar aaj raat dono aati, pehle jeans wali ko wall pe laga ke peeche se leta. Phir kurti wali ko god mein utha ke. Dono ko ek saath chodna hai mann kar raha hai.” He started stroking slowly, right there on the terrace, not caring if anyone looked up. “Mera lund uncut hai na, isliye andar se bohot garam rehta hai. Jab kisi ke andar jaata hai toh pehle thoda tight feel hota hai, phir soft. Aur cum bohot nikalta hai. Ek baar nikaala toh lagta hai doosra bhi nikalega. College ke washroom mein do-teen baar nikaal chuka hoon din mein.” He looked at me, still stroking, foreskin sliding up and down over the wet head. “Tu bhi sochta hoga na kabhi? Ki seedha kisi random ladki ko bol du ‘Aaj raat tera pura nikaal lunga.’ Main toh sochta rehta hoon. Kabhi-kabhi lagta hai bas ek baar kisi ko pakad ke, bina condom ke, andar tak daal du. Smell bhi usko feel hoga mera cock ka, cum ka. Room mein toh roz yehi smell rehta hai. Tu notice kiya hoga.” He squeezed the head and another thick drop of precum fell onto the terrace floor. “Aaj raat bhi nikaalunga. Do baar. Ek abhi, ek sone se pehle. Warna subah tak itna tight rahega ki chalne mein dikkat hogi.” He kept talking like that for a long time — about fucking the girls he’d seen, about how much he leaked, about how his bush got sticky by the end of the day, about how he sometimes slept with the same underwear just so the smell stayed strong. The whole time his cock stayed hard, dark, uncut, and heavy in his hand, the wet sound of his fist the only other noise on the quiet Bhopal terrace. After that night I stopped knocking before entering his room. There was no point. He was almost always hard, almost always half-naked, and the air always smelled exactly the same pure cock and cum.

16,404 görüntüleme