Sreve Naghavi/Anderson Cooper porns
Title: Mixed Nuts
"You don't have fanboys in Germany," Anderson said.
"What what? Who the fuck are you?" Steve didn't know how he got there, but there was a wine cabinet and a silvery tressed man with a bumbershoot for two. If the tent in his sateen robe was any indication.
"I'm whoever you want me to be, baby." There was a seductive waggle of the silvery brows. Steve felt kind of uneasy.
"I'm a German."
"That's okay, I like sausage."
Then a young man walked in with a metal bucket full of ice. As means of distraction Steve asked, "Who is that?"
"That's Fernando. He keeps the wine cool and me hot."
As Anderson stood, Steve then knew it was too late to escape.
Anderson backed Steve against the coffee table. He thought it might be an Ikea knock off. Anderson didn't care though, just grabbed him by the orange tie and pulled him forward. Steve wanted to hit him, but no man dare mar Anderson's beautiful face.
"I'm straight."
"You'll get over that, in time," Anderson said with a laugh. It was quite possibly the most unsexy thing Steve had ever heard.
"So...?"
"Fernando close the door."
Fernando wandered back through, this time with a bandana in one hand and an eye patch in the other. "Aye aye captain."
Steve stared between them. "What?"
Anderson started on the buttons of Steve's shirt and turned him full circle. "I like it when he talks pirate."
"Why me?" Steve sat down on the table. It broke under his manly weight in a scattering of legs and metal turn screws. Steve had the sinking suspicion it would soon be his turn to get screwed.
"You're pale as a newt and spin like a dreidel. I like that." Before Steve could get up, Anderson descended like a sloth from a tree.
"But I'm not--"
"Oh, stop. Your hips lie. They lie like a whore."
"You can't touch this" Steve thought wildly in a moment of desperation. But Anderson could. And touch it he did.
It was such a sexy sound like an air horn. How could any woman resist? Or any news anchor.
"You don't have fanboys in Germany," Anderson said.
"What what? Who the fuck are you?" Steve didn't know how he got there, but there was a wine cabinet and a silvery tressed man with a bumbershoot for two. If the tent in his sateen robe was any indication.
"I'm whoever you want me to be, baby." There was a seductive waggle of the silvery brows. Steve felt kind of uneasy.
"I'm a German."
"That's okay, I like sausage."
Then a young man walked in with a metal bucket full of ice. As means of distraction Steve asked, "Who is that?"
"That's Fernando. He keeps the wine cool and me hot."
As Anderson stood, Steve then knew it was too late to escape.
Anderson backed Steve against the coffee table. He thought it might be an Ikea knock off. Anderson didn't care though, just grabbed him by the orange tie and pulled him forward. Steve wanted to hit him, but no man dare mar Anderson's beautiful face.
"I'm straight."
"You'll get over that, in time," Anderson said with a laugh. It was quite possibly the most unsexy thing Steve had ever heard.
"So...?"
"Fernando close the door."
Fernando wandered back through, this time with a bandana in one hand and an eye patch in the other. "Aye aye captain."
Steve stared between them. "What?"
Anderson started on the buttons of Steve's shirt and turned him full circle. "I like it when he talks pirate."
"Why me?" Steve sat down on the table. It broke under his manly weight in a scattering of legs and metal turn screws. Steve had the sinking suspicion it would soon be his turn to get screwed.
"You're pale as a newt and spin like a dreidel. I like that." Before Steve could get up, Anderson descended like a sloth from a tree.
"But I'm not--"
"Oh, stop. Your hips lie. They lie like a whore."
"You can't touch this" Steve thought wildly in a moment of desperation. But Anderson could. And touch it he did.
It was such a sexy sound like an air horn. How could any woman resist? Or any news anchor.