Allen
I slowly pulled myself out of Ezra's tight, throbbing hole, the wet sound was so lewd and depraved that I was stunned for a moment.
Ezra let out a soft, trailing whimper as he most likely felt the sudden emptiness. He softly collapsed back onto the sweat stained sheets. His chest was heaving, his dark hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, and my thick white release was slowly leaking out from his hole, trailing down his thighs.
Without a word, I vanished into the inner chamber of the room. A few seconds later, I reappeared near the foot of the bed, carrying a large wooden easel, a fresh canvas board, a wooden palette, and a set of fine paintbrushes.
Ezra shifted on the bed, pushing himself up onto his elbows. He blinked his glazed, heavy lidded eyes, looking at me in complete bewilderment as I set the easel down right in front of the bed.
"Allen...?" Ezra murmured, his voice heavy and filled with exhaustion. "What on earth are you doing?"
