Alpha Brocks Mate
A sense of satisfaction washed over me as I observed Brock wincing from the sting of my blow to his unshaven jaw.
With the sun glaring down, Brock sat in only his boxers, his chiseled six-pack seemingly beckoning for a touch. He squinted against the bright light, struggling to discern who else was present in the room. As he attempted to rise from the floor where he had landed after my fists had repeatedly struck his face, I could see him wince, still reeling from the blows.
With a smirk, Brock replied, “I would have relished the opportunity to undress you, but, being the gentleman that I am, I enlisted the help of a night omega to dress you in my shirt instead.”
Bab Populer