he looked at the piss which continued to jettison from my cock and then looked at me. I asked him if he wanted it and he silently answered by bending over as if he was going to drink from a garden hose. Yet, instead of sipping, he placed his entire mouth around the head and drank as I continued to release. I occassionally stopped the flow to allow him to swallow and then started again, spurting down his throat.
My boy, freely drinking what was being offered. Yet as I grew hard inside his mouth, I began to thrust and he began to bob his head up and down the shaft. My good boy, knowing how to please me, not just in a physical manner but with the emotional, mental and spirtual ferocity of him being owned and me owning him.
I held his head, indicating that I was to thrust and he was to accept. When I released his head he went back to sucking with just the right amount of pressure mixed with wetness. Our symbolic dance of ownership and servitude continued as he knelt in front of me, his hands behind his head and his cock caged and confined within his shorts. Thrusting and sucking. Holding him still, then pulling his head towards me.
I turned and pulled my shorts down just enough to expose my ass to his face. I bent over slightly, while holding the waistband of my shorts and his warm wet tongue struck my hole. he then lapped, a long continuous lick from the bottom, brusquely pushing on my hole as he continued a straight line to the top of my crack. It's a fluid motion he's adapted knowing it's his place and his purpose to please me. My good boy.
I turned back around and his mouth was agape. I entered again. As I reached the point of orgasm, I again held his head still and he ceased sucking. I stood still. While clenching the muscles of my sphincter at the moment of climax, multiple, solid shots erupted from my cock.
he swallowed.
the boy. My good boy, kneeling in front of me as I fed him.
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