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It’s the hand on the thigh that kills me tbh

When it comes to response to sexual pleasure, bodies are not unlike musical instruments–some just line the sweet spots up beneath certain hands differently, others “you can’t love… until [they’ve] broken your heart a few hundred times.

So while a big part of what gets me about this is how angrily red his erection is–like in my experience it takes a good long bit of stimulation to achieve that color, mullets-make-me-moist is astute in drawing attention to the hands–the correlation between the way they move over this boy’s body and the way a theramin player performs is damn uncanny.

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