It is not simply the preppy button-down shirt, dimpled chin and messed up spiky hair that makes it very simple to envision thirty-year-old Donovan a decade earlier because a beer-guzzling, skirt-chasing frat rat gone crazy. This cocky Casanova nevertheless has the demeanor of a university man who hit the x-rated book shop much more frequently than the library, and is just as ready to hump anything that moves as he actually was. The term if it feels good, do this may happen to be coined by Donovan, but it definitely is personified with him. We learn in short order one thing that feels good to him is riding his own finger, whether he is jacking off or eating pussy, and he also knows what it is like to be on the front end of something decidedly larger than among his very own chords. Both as a top and as a floor, Donovan isn’t a stranger to all-male backdoor action either, although it is the eight thick inches he’s in front that he enjoys best. And, in short order, when we see that thick throbber, we instantly understand why.Licking his lips and rubbing his crotch, ” Donovan begins an impromptu rendition of Sexual Animal House by eliminating his shirt, peeling off his gray wifebeater, also revealing a hair-covered chest that’s only as manly because grin is boyish. As Donovan rubs the nips in the middle of that furry manscape, it is apparent that as far as he loves that big fat dick of his own during his everyday stroke sessions, he doesn’t just masturbate with his penis, however, uses his whole body for a pleasure expansion to the magical wand in his pants. A loud moan escapes his lips as he sticks his jeans and stuffed bulge in his shorts escapes out of the fly. As he turns around and his jeans slide down his powerful, meaty thighs, the darkened ink of some tat at the center is a life-sized drawing of their back bone underneath. But if he ends up, its his fully exposed man-bone that steals the focus, leaving a picture as indelible.His cries are deep and loud as we follow the dark trail of hair over his pecs, across his stomach, and to that lush chestnut-colored garden beneath that tree trunk of a hard cock beneath. Rock tough, tender pink, crisscrossed with veins, and also sporting a flaring helmet mind, his penis rises out of his body like an obelisk of masculinity that’s obviously the middle of that mans universe. His fingers over explore the tender flesh of his pit, but he bends the loudest if he squeezes his cock head against these hungry buttocks cheeks. That is his magical button since the brief sensation alone pushes him over the border. Grabbing his balls with one hand and his shaft with the other he strikes a deliciously thick load onto his stomach. Much like the college child trapped in a mans body that he is, our Sexual Peter Pan rubs the jizz into his hairy belly, proving you can take the man out of the frat house, but you cant take all the frat house from the man.