“SHIT,” Mr. Schwartz grunted, throwing back his head as a thick wad of his salty cum blasted my throat. I was gagging on it, choking on it. But he held my head down on his fat, hairy cock until his balls were empty and I’d swallowed every last drop of his warm, sticky load.
“Damn, boy. You really know how to suck a dick,” he praised as he finally released me.
“Thank you, sir,” I replied, gasping for air and wiping my chin.
“How much do I owe you?” he asked, buttoning up his shirt. “Forty — fifty?”
“Nah,” I shrugged, plucking one of his dark, curly pubes from my mouth. “I don’t charge. I just like to suck cock. How’d you hear about me?”
“Your dad,” he laughed, zipping up his pants. “He texted all the guys in our golf group, saying you’re home from college for the summer and wanted to swallow some cum. I just assumed you were trying to make some beer money.”
“No,” I laughed. “I’d rather chug cum than beer. I’m used to giving bro-jobs to all my fraternity brothers, but this dry spell back home was killing me. That’s why dad is hooking me up with all his buds like you.”
“I’m assuming you suck your dad, too?” asked Mr. Schwartz.
“Yeah,” I affirmed. “It’s not like my mom’s gonna suck him. And Dad loves feeding me.”
“Damn, that’s hot,” he replied. “I wish my son Parker would drain my balls for me.”
“Nah. Parker is a dedicated feeder,” I informed Mr. Schwartz.
“What?! You’ve sucked Parker’s dick?” he asked incredulously.
“Yeah,” I smiled. “Parker and I lived in the same dorm freshman year. He fed me his protein at least once a day. And now that I’m living at the frat house, he still drops by a few times a week to shoot his wad down my throat.”
“Fuck,” exclaimed Mr. Schwartz, his pants tenting. “Parker is doing an internship up in Boston for the summer, but he’ll be home this weekend. You think I could bring him by? You could suck the two of us?”
“Definitely,” I agreed. “I also love to get fucked up the ass, and getting tagged by a dad and his son is high on my bucket list. You think you two might wanna fuck my tight hole?”
“Shit,” he gasped, closing his eyes tightly and scrunching up his face.
“Mr. Schwartz? Are you okay?” I asked urgently.
“Yeah,” he affirmed, exhaling a long breath of air. “I just jizzed my pants.”
Stories are fiction and intended for readers 18 and up. All characters are assumed to be legal, consenting adults.
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