Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Caption

Subject: A Little Bit of Sugar Chapter 2 A Little Bit of Sugar by RJ This multi-part fiction involves sexual contact between an adult and a minor. If you are offended by such themes, do not read. Note that the characters here fictional and nothing in this story is associated with the company “Vice.” And remember to play it safe in real life! If you have any comments about my work, or even just want to chat, please don’t hesitate to message me. As always, please support Nifty in any way you can. ~ CHAPTER 2 ~ I feel strange being the one to text Dylan since he hasn’t reached out to me at all today. I also feel bad about the fact that I don’t feel bad that we fucked. After waking up today next to my husband, I started thinking about the things that have happened, and I realized that I’m a bit infatuated with this kid. Something about him intrigues me. And I don’t think it’s necessarily “feelings,” though part of it is highly sexual. Still, it means I have to investigate this further, right? I shoot him a text: “Need you to babysit Tuesday night, 6 to 10.” He responds within the minute. “Sounds good!” He adds a little smiley emoji at the end of the text. I bite my lip a bit, hesitating before sending another message. “Still want to go suit shopping?” “Wait you were serious about that?” “Of course.” “OMG”, he says. Then: “I mean if you’re offering…. how can I say no…” “You can’t. Meet me at the train station at noon tomorrow.” There’s a train shortly after that we can take easily into the city. Plenty of good shops in the fashion district. “Yes sir”, he responds with, and I grin slightly, already anticipating it. Once Saturday rolls around and I actually start heading towards the train, I realize how excited I am to see this kid. It’s something about his energy, I think. He’s spunky without being annoying, and is clearly smart even though he’s not overt about it. And good-natured. That’s the most important thing. When I park, he’s already at the platform, and he smiles and waves when he sees me walk towards him. “Hey, mister,” he says in a stupid accent. I roll my eyes, laughing. “Hi, Dylan,” I say as I get closer. Should we shake hands? Hug? I don’t know what to do. Turns out we don’t do anything. “Thought you were gonna miss the train,” he says. “You’re pushing it kinda close.” “I wouldn’t bail on you,” I tell him. “I don’t know you,” Dylan teases, which makes me laugh. “Whatever, kid.” I slide around him, touching his side unnecessarily as I head towards the ticket booth to grab a round trip ticket. I just wanted an excuse to touch him. Dylan comes up and stands beside me. “You don’t have a pass?” “No, I do,” I tell him. “So why are you getting a ticket?” “It’s for you,” I say, choosing the payment option. Card, of course. When do I ever have cash on me? “I have a pass too, you know,” he says, pulling out his card. I look at him. “So you’re turning down a free ride?” “I…” But he stops himself, biting his lip as he looks at me. I just grin a bit, already swiping my card and waiting for the ticket to spit out of the machine. Once it does, I hand it to Dylan, and he takes it. “You’re the worst,” he says. I snort a little. “You’re welcome.” Dylan smiles softly, following me back to the edge of the platform. I can see the train coming from a distance. “Is this your way of buying sex from me?” I blush, looking at him. “That’s not what I’m doing.” “Because I’d do you for free, you know,” he says, nudging me playfully. “Gotta get my charity work in.” “Don’t make me regret this,” I mutter, and he just laughs. When we get to the city, I debate on what store to take him to. My first thought is Armani, but what kid needs an Armani suit? Definitely not Dylan. I think of something simpler. Brooks Brothers has some decent stuff without being too flashy, which is all Dylan really needs — a simple, versatile suit. So I hail us a cab and we make the trip uptown to the shopping district, towards the more high-end section. “This is like, fancy town,” Dylan says skeptically as we step out of the cab. He looks around at the various stores. Certainly he’s never shopped at any of them. “If you want quality, this is the area to be. Or up seventh street,” I say as I pay the driver and send him on his way. “So you shop here?” “Yeah,” I say, almost laughing at the look he’s giving me. “Huh.” He ponders that for a moment. “So are you actually paying for quality or just for the brand?” he challenges. I open my mouth to speak but stop myself when I realize what he’s saying. It’s not like he doesn’t have a point… “Both,” I say before putting my hand on his back and pushing him forward. “Now walk, smartass.” Dylan just giggles as we make our way into Brooks Brothers. “Christ, it’s bright in here,” he says as we enter. It is pretty bright. Seems like every damn light is on to its maximum potential but whatever. Small price to pay. They have good stuff here, and for most ages. Immediately, one of the workers slides up to us newcomers. “Welcome to Brooks Brothers. Are you two looking for anything in particular?” “Any hors d’oeuvres?” Dylan asks jokingly. I sigh, nudging him out of the way, which makes him laugh. “We’re just browsing,” I tell the worker. He just smiles. “Well if you or your son need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask,” he says. I blink. “My son?” But Dylan just grabs my arm. “C’mon, Dad. I wanna check out some shirts.” He clearly finds it funny, but I can’t get the comment out of my head. That’s pretty presumptuous of him to assume that we’re father and son. Though… maybe not? I don’t know. What else could I be? An uncle? A mentor of some sort? Maybe it’s not as rude as I think it is. Plus, to be fair, we do sort of look alike at a glance. I’m distracted by Dylan poking around the section that houses patterned shirts. “You really want one of those?” “I’m just looking. Relax,” he says with a grin. “Trying to see how the other side dresses.” Then he glances at me, eyeing me up and down. “Do you ever wear anything besides fancy clothes?” I glance down at my outfit. Slacks and a button-up with some suspenders. Nothing crazy. “This is pretty casual,” I say. I’m not wearing a jacket. Dylan snorts. “Did you just redefine casual?” he says with a laugh. “Sweatpants are casual. Hoodies. Sneakers. Jeans! Do you own a single pair of jeans?” “Yes,” I say defensively. “Well then you’re not totally helpless,” he says. “And as your son, I feel it is my duty to–” “Shut up,” I mutter, pushing him towards the presets section. He just laughs. We spend about ten minutes combing through some of the simpler things before he finds an ensemble that he likes (save for the shirt, but we can switch it out for a different one). A simple black suit. Vague and appropriate enough for most occasions, and allows for the button-up to be customized. If he’s satisfied with the pants and jacket, we just need a better tie. And some shoes. Can’t forget those. “That’s the one?” “Yeah. It’s really nice,” he says, glancing at the price tag for the pants and then wincing. “Jesus. Never mind, it’s way too expensive.” “Don’t worry about it,” I say, putting my hand on his shoulders and directing him towards the fitting rooms. “You didn’t even look at the tag,” he says. “I said don’t worry about it.” Dylan looks back at me with a strange expression. “How rich are you, exactly?” I just laugh. “Just go try everything on, see how they fit,” I say. “Okay,” he says cheerfully. The worker unlocks one of the dressing rooms for him and I wait outside, crossing my arms and looking around. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to get a shirt for myself while we’re here. Maybe something more interesting. I have plenty of neutrals, but what about some more interesting colors? I have a few suits that would pair nicely with maybe a purple… Or maybe a dark green? I hear Dylan’s voice coming from the dressing room area. “Hey Dad!” he calls out, and I roll my eyes. “Can you help me with this?” I glance at the worker, who’s just standing at his little kocaeli escort podium and looking in the direction of Dylan’s stall. “What is it?” I ask. “The belt is stuck or something.” I sigh a bit, and the worker turns to me before cocking his head. “Go ahead,” he says. I nod, heading down the small hallway towards Dylan’s stall. I knock once with my knuckles and he unhooks the latch to let me in. I step in, glancing at Dylan. He’s nearly fully dressed. The shirt isn’t fully buttoned up and the jacket is still on its hanger, but he’s got the shoes and pants on. I shut the door and am about to check out his belt but he has me up against the wall in a flash, and suddenly, his lips are on mine. Instinctively, I kiss him back, hard, my hands itching to grab him. They slide around his body, gripping him a bit before I realize what’s happening. “Mmm. Wait wait,” I say, tilting my head away. “What are you doing?” “What do you mean ‘what am I doing’?” he asks with a grin. “I thought you actually needed help,” I say. He rolls his eyes. “You’re dumb.” His hand goes right for my crotch and my cock (annoyingly) responds easily to his touch. He knows he’s got me. That’s the problem. “We can’t do this right here,” I tell him. “That worker is like ten feet away.” Dylan shrugs. “Closer to fifteen probably,” he says, partially undoing my belt for me. Before he can finish, I grab both of his wrists and hold them up. He just smiles. “Please?” he asks, licking his lips. “I just want a taste.” “Dylan, no.” “God, you’re boring,” he says, sighing. “Where’s your sense of adventure?” Is that really what’s going to convince me to let him suck me off in a Brooks Brothers fitting room? Him calling me boring? In my head, all I’m thinking is “Fuck you, kid, I’m not boring. I’ll show you.” How pathetic. But damn if the idea doesn’t excite me a little bit. I let out a sigh, looking away from him as I let go of his wrists. He just lets out a short little laugh before quickly getting to his knees and making quick work of my belt. Before I know it, I feel that familiar warm, wet, eager mouth of his taking me in and I close my eyes, holding back a moan. My hand automatically gravitates towards his head, getting my fingers in his hair as he bobs back and forth on me. So much about this is inappropriate. He’s in high school. He’s my babysitter. I have a husband. I’m about to buy him an expensive outfit. We’re basically in public. But I damn well love it. Dylan takes me a little deeper and I let out a soft moan, pushing my hips forward so that I get into his throat more. I look down, watching him work. He looks even cuter on his knees. Specifically when he’s sucking cock. Something about the way his lips, which are already a good size, plump up when he gets to the tip of my cock. And the way his tongue is working… Clearly he’s having just a good a time as I am. Suddenly, someone knocks. “Everything okay in there, sirs?” Instinctively I push Dylan back, but way harder than intended. “Ow!” he says, falling completely back and bumping his head lightly on the wall. I wince, immediately apologizing, but he’s laughing slightly to himself. He’s okay. My heart hurts, it’s racing so fast. “Uh… Yeah, everything’s good,” I tell the worker, hastily putting my dick away. I silently curse myself out. The worker can’t see me, but he can damn well hear my belt jingling as I rush to fix my pants. Now we sound suspicious. “Can you maybe not kill me?” Dylan asks, standing up and rubbing his head. “Sorry,” I say, fixing my belt quietly and then coming over to him to check his head. “You okay?” “I’m fine. I barely hit my head.” “Okay, good.” I let out a breath. “Christ.” I wonder if the worker is still right outside the door. Fucking hell. I need to get out of here. “Are you satisfied with the fit?” “The fit?” Dylan asks. “Oh yeah, it fits me perfectly.” “Really?” I take a step back to actually look at him. And he’s right. Doesn’t even look like the pants need to be tailored. I squat down to pat his legs to see how much room there is, but it’s perfect. “Guess we’re good then.” I let him get undressed before we pick out a different shirt, a matching tie, and some proper dress shoes. When we check out, Dylan gawks at the final price but I just hand over my card. I smirk slightly. He actually looks a bit stressed about it. “That was way too much money, Milo,” he says as we step outside. “It’s not a big deal,” I tell him. “Honest.” He looks up at me with genuine concern in his eyes. “You already pay me so much for babysitting, I can’t–” “Yes you can,” I say, handing him the bag. “No more money talk, alright?” He bites his lip a bit but just nods. “You wanna get food before we head back?” He shrugs. “Yeah, why not?” He looks around before he realizes that there’s no food around. “Um. What are you in the mood for?” “Your choice,” I tell him. I’m not picky. He takes a moment to think before his eyes light up. “Can we go to Chinatown?” “Seriously?” “Yeah. There’s this reeeally good restaurant I always go to when I come to the city.” Turns out it’s in one of the dingiest parts of the city. I’ve never been in this area. The more I think about it, I don’t think I’ve ever even stepped foot in this district, let alone Chinatown. It’s interesting to see how comfortable Dylan is here and how uncomfortable I am — the exact opposite of where we just were. Dylan has a sure stride, and I tail behind him, looking wary and probably out-of-place. He takes me to a little Vietnamese restaurant. It’s not terribly busy, but it’s a pretty compact space, so we’re practically right next to a couple other people who are scoping the menu. Dylan smiles at me as I sit down and sigh slightly. “Try and look normal for once,” he teases. “Normal?” I squint. “Do I not look normal?” “You just look completely uncomfortable,” he says before the waitress comes by to give us tea. She leaves the kettle at the table and walks away. “I’ve just never been here before, is all,” I say, watching him pour us each a little cup of tea. “Just pretend you’re one of us for a change,” he says with a chuckle. “Ha ha,” I mock, rolling my eyes and grabbing the teacup. I blow on it before taking a hesitant sip. Damn. It’s surprisingly good. We take a moment to pick out what we want, and after the waitress takes our order, Dylan takes a moment just to stare at me while I sip my tea. I smirk. “Yes?” “Can I ask you something?” “Shoot.” “Have you always been rich?” he asks. I shake my head. “No. And I’m wealthy, not rich.” He rolls his eyes. “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just say that,” he says with a slight grin, and I blush. “How’d you get ‘wealthy’, then?” “Lots of hard work,” I say. I tell him about how I’ve worked since I was in high school and through a cheap college, usually two jobs if I could manage it. I was never poor, necessarily — I just wanted to be financially autonomous. I took every available opportunity I could, switched my major to business once I realized that’s where the money is, perfected my skill of charming the right people (kind of like Dylan). “Then I got my big break, so to speak.” “Which was…?” “A job at Vice,” he says. “I started off as a nobody, but they hired me because of my business skills. And eventually I realized I could write way better than most people there. I’m sure you know the feeling,” I say with a smirk. I’ve seen his writing. He just laughs. “Only too well.” “I would edit things on the sly, make suggestions, constantly do things I wasn’t supposed to be doing… Eventually someone took notice, and I got transferred to editing and writing.” “So you’re telling me to break the rules?” he asks with a grin. I shrug and nod. “Basically. You won’t get far unless you take a few risks. Constantly show off what you can do.” He nods a few times. “Makes sense.” I look at him for a moment before speaking up again. “Can I ask YOU something?” “Shoot,” he says with a grin. “Are you… poor or something?” He arches his eyebrow before shrugging. “I don’t really darıca escort know,” he says. “My mom just lost her job. She’s convinced it’s because of her health, which I’m pretty sure is illegal.” I’m actually unsure. “It’s fucked up, at least.” He shrugs. “Agreed. But she won’t tell me how shit is going, y’know, financially. So the money you and Jared have been giving me has been… crazy helpful,” he says with a sigh. “But then I feel like a charity case taking all your money.” He’s the most genuine kid his age I’ve ever met. If it’s one thing I pride myself on, it’s my ability to read people. Comes with my ability to charm in my field of work. And Dylan just exudes this down-to-earth aura. He’s responsible, even for things he shouldn’t have to be responsible for. He’s caring. He’s honest. And he still manages to be fun-loving, even with all the stress of his life. I was never that way when I was a kid. Frankly, I was miserable, but I convinced myself that everything I did was necessary. I considered it an investment for my future. “How is she, by the way?” I ask. “She’s pretending she’s okay, but she’s bad at that,” he says with a laugh. I smile sadly. “If you ever need any mon–” “Milo, don’t,” he says with a laugh, blushing slightly as he holds his hand up. “Why not?” “You’re too nice to me.” “Only because I think you’re cute,” I tease. He laughs. “I’m serious.” “I am too,” I say, and then quickly correct myself. “About the money, I mean.” I laugh. “It’s no trouble at all. Honest. Frankly, I see a lot of myself in you, but… You still have a sense of joy about you that I basically killed when I was your age because I was working myself so hard. And while I appreciate your work ethic, I don’t want you to lose what makes you so special.” He stares at me for a while, and it takes me a moment to realize that he’s trying not to cry. I see his eyes water, and he quickly wipes a tear away. “You okay?” “Sorry,” he says, sniffling slightly. “It’s okay,” I say, surprised. “I just…” He swallows a bit, taking a breath and composing himself before smiling. “Thank you.” Talking to Dylan is incredible. It’s refreshing compared to conversations I have with coworkers or peers. He manages to be youthful without the naivety associated with kids his age. How is conversation flowing so easily between me and this fifteen-year-old? We share a few laughs, yes, but our talks become deeper and heavier as we discuss politics, the state of the world, and more abstract things like religion and spirituality. I get to understand his depth as a person throughout our meal and even all the way back to Fairview. The only time we pause our conversation is once we step off the train and onto the platform. We both sigh, stretching slightly as we inhale the fresh air. I quickly check my phone, realizing I haven’t for a couple hours, and see that I missed a text from Jared. Apparently he’s at Crystal’s, a mutual friend of ours, for a playdate between her son and Laila. He said I could swing by if I wanted to when I got back. “Huh,” I say, staring at my phone. Dylan slides closer. “What?” “Jared and Laila are at a friend’s and invited me over, but…” He smiles. “Not in the mood?” I shrug. “Not terribly. Crystal can be… exhausting.” That’s a mild way of putting it. He laughs a little. “Just relax at home then,” he says. “Yeah, I might.” I lock my phone and slide it back into my pocket, looking at him. “Do you want a ride home or something?” I ask, messing with my keys. Dylan just shrugs, smiling slightly before stepping closer. I know what he’s about to do, and I have plenty of time to stop him. But I don’t. I let him slide up against me and kiss me. In fact, I kiss him back. Fervently. God, the taste of him. The smell, the feel. He drives me insane. He pulls back, one hand on my chest. “Whose home?” I stare blankly at him for a moment before pulling him by his shirt towards my car, making him laugh. It’s like a switch went off. Suddenly my only intention in life is to speed home and fuck the hell out of this kid. I get back to the house in record time and we hurry up to the front door. He’s a little touchy with me, but resists doing anything major in case we’re seen. Smart boy. He just lightly teases near my crotch as I fumble with the lock until the door finally swings open. I yank him inside, shut the door, and kiss him hard against the wall. He drops his bag in order to grab onto me, and I press my groin into him to show him how hard he’s made me already. I’ve been hard since we kissed on the platform. That’s what he does to me. I slide my hand down and grab at his ass as I move my lips to his neck. He lets out a moan, grabbing onto my suspenders for support as I suck deeply on his neck, sure to leave a hickey. I have this sudden, uncontrollable urge to mark him. I pull back when I feel his hand gripping my dick through my slacks. I lick my lips slightly, looking down at his hand before he leans in and starts kissing me again. I feel his fingers working at my belt again, and I let him this time. Now we’re in the privacy of my home. We can be as loud as we want. His fingers hasten to undo my pants and when I feel them reach inside, I moan against his mouth. I feel him grin before he slides down to his knees, taking me back into his mouth without hesitation as if continuing from where we left off in the dressing room. I groan, resting my forearm against the wall behind him as I push my hips forward. Hearing him groan on me is such a turn on. I close my eyes, listening to the sounds of his grunts and slurping as I work my hips back and forth. That’s it, Dylan. Show me what you got. I pull my suspenders off my shoulders and then start to undo the buttons on my shirt until it falls open. As Dylan slides off my cock and starts lapping at and sucking on my balls, he looks up. His eyebrows arch a bit when he sees my torso. He pulls back, resting his head against the wall as he looks up at me. That’s when I notice he’s jerking himself off. “Take your shirt off,” he says suddenly. “All the way off.” I cock an eyebrow but oblige, pulling my shirt off of my arms and tossing it to the floor. Dylan licks his lips and stands up, taking a moment to check me out. “I can’t believe I haven’t seen your body until now.” I look at him skeptically, but he’s right. Each time we’ve hooked up thus far, we’ve been nearly fully dressed. Which means I’ll finally be able to see him naked, too. “You’re like… really sexy,” Dylan says. The slight hint of awe in his voice makes me laugh a little. “Thanks,” I tell him, unsure what to say. I let him ogle me a bit. It feels kind of nice, if I’m being honest. Having Dylan stare at my muscles with that lustful look of his is only making my dick harder. But soon I have to break his concentration. “Your turn.” He blinks, looking at my eyes. “Huh?” “Shirt. Off.” I try to tug at the hem of his shirt, but he stops me. “Are you kidding? How could I ever have my shirt off in front of you?” “What are you talking about?” I ask, finding his sudden embarrassment kind of adorable. “I mean, look at you. You’re so hot and I’m…” He trails off, just gesturing to himself. I smile slightly. “You’re fucking beautiful, Dylan,” I tell him, making him blush way more. “Don’t fuck with me,” he says. “I’m not,” I tell him, reaching for the hem of his shirt again. I start lifting, and he resists, but only slightly. I have him raise his arms so I can peel his shirt off of him. Then I toss it to the floor before I step back to look at him. Did he seriously think he’s unattractive? I understand feeling intimidated; he’s not muscular or anything. He’s that happy medium, neither skinny nor chubby. Just smooth and full. I want to devour him. I lean in and kiss him. He’s tentative at first, so I decide to try and make him more comfortable. I kiss down to his neck. Then his collarbone. Then his chest, lapping at those innocently-pink nipples. He mewls a bit as I go lower and lower until I’m on my knees. I look up gölcük escort as I lap at the head of his hard cock, making it bounce on my tongue. He bites his lip as he watches me take the tip into my mouth. I let my tongue swirl around the head as I work my way down lower and lower until my face is buried in his crotch. He lets out a slightly high moan, and I feel his fingers gripping my hair tightly as I start bobbing my head back and forth. I take it slow, keeping my hands on his hips and enjoying myself. He tastes almost sweet. Maybe it’s the smell of him. Whatever it is, it only makes me want to taste the rest of him. I pull off slowly, licking my lips and then kissing back up his body until I get to his lips. Now he’s less tentative, giving me all the tongue I can handle. I feel his hands roam the front of me before he digs his nails into my pecs. I grunt against his lips, gripping his ass a little harder in response and then breaking the kiss. “I want you,” I admit. He gives me the slightest half-grin, his eyes on mine. “Take me, then.” I lick my lips, my eyes exploring his face before I slide my hand down his arm and grab his hand. Time to do him properly. I take him upstairs to the bedroom, kicking the door shut and then starting to kiss him as we shift towards the bed. He’s the one who pushes me onto the bed and I laugh a little, watching him pull off his pants as I slide out of my own. I quickly toss them to the floor, lying naked as he gets on top of me. He rests his nude body on mine and gently grinds his hardness into me. I let my hands slide up and down his smooth back, and I even dig my nails in a bit until I get to that wonderfully thick ass of his. I give it a smack that echoes throughout the room, and he yelps a bit. “Fucker,” he whispers. I grip him and flip him over quickly, and he gasps in surprise. I just grin, looking him up and down before telling him to turn over. He hits me with that sly little smirk of his before slowly turning onto his stomach, raising his ass up expectantly. I slide my hand over one plump cheek, giving it another good smack and making Dylan say “Ah!” in the most delicious way. I bite my lip, working my fingers between his cheeks to test his hole. Clearly, he enjoys that — he immediately pushes back against my index finger with a hum. I add pressure, rubbing his hole in circles as I lean down and bite at the skin between his shoulder blades. He moans out loudly, reaching back to pull my hair, and I kiss that spot tenderly as if in apology before making my way down to what I really want. Dylan seems like a skilled bottom. At least, he’s intuitive, because he lifts his ass just the way I want him to. He gives it a little shake and I chuckle lightly before licking my lips. I’m already salivating just looking at the meal before me. “Spread your cheeks,” I tell him, and he doesn’t waste a second reaching back and gripping each cheek. He pries them apart and I’m blessed with the sight of that deliciously pink hole of his. It looks almost virginal. Hard to believe that I’ve fucked him already. I lean down and lap slowly at his hole. Tenderly. I can feel it twitching every time my tongue makes contact. He’s so receptive to me. I grin a bit, dragging that moist muscle over his most sensitive area over and over again. He stops prying his cheeks apart, and keeps his hands above his head as I eat him out slowly. “Do you think that guy knew what we were doing?” he asks me suddenly. I look up at him, pausing. “What guy?” “The worker in the fitting rooms area.” “Oh.” I almost laugh. “I don’t know. Maybe.” I lean back down and work him over a little more with my mouth. I even gently slip my tongue in, eliciting a moan from him. “I can’t believe he thought you’re my dad.” I kiss his hole a little bit just as a thought crosses my mind. “Do you have a dad?” I ask. How have I not asked this before? And then I think, is this really the time to be asking? “No,” he says simply, looking back at me. “Sorry,” I say, biting my lip and stroking the back of his thigh. I’m not trying to kill the mood by bringing up whoever his father is. He just smiles. “It’s not a big deal. Besides,” he says, sitting up on his knees and sticking his ass out invitingly, “you can be my dad.” “Don’t make this weird,” I say, getting behind him. “I’m just saying, I’ve always one,” he says teasingly, laughing slightly. It makes me both sad and aroused — sad because there’s probably some truth to that, and aroused because… well, the obvious. I wrap an arm around him, putting my hand against his mouth to shut him up. He responds by managing to get my index finger in his mouth. He sucks on it hard, his tongue working smoothly, making my dick ache. This fucking kid. I push my cock between his cheeks, searching for his hole. He reaches back for me and takes over, targeting my hard-on and then pushing back onto me. The head stretches out his hole as it slides in slowly and is followed by a couple inches of my cock. Both of us moan. I’m impressed. He must have a toy or something at home that he masturbates with regularly. After I wrap my other arm around his midriff, I push the rest of me into him. He whimpers, putting both hands on my arm that’s wrapped tight across his chest to keep him in place. I start working my hips, kissing his neck. I hear him murmur “Oh God, yes” as I pick up the pace, working in smooth motions but making the bed shake. His body feels so good against mine. I can feel him heating up the longer we go at it. I can feel him trembling with pleasure. I even feel the goosebumps on his smooth skin wherever I touch him. It’s just… good. He moves my arm off of him and then bends over fully so he’s on his hands and knees. He looks back at me as he pushes back into my thrusts, making sure my cock gets deep inside him. I drag my nails down his back and he closes his eyes and moans, only rutting back into me harder. I grin slightly, glancing down at my crotch. Watching my cock disappear between his cheeks is an incredible sight. What an ass. It presses nicely against me and jiggles when we make contact. I spank him again, enjoying the sight of the handprint I leave on his skin. He pushes back into me all the way, grinding deeply and working his ass in circles, so I just hold his hips and make sure I stay deep. He fucks like he’s a pro. And like a pro, he’s gotten me close quickly… I reach up and grab his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “I’m gonna cum.” “Yeah?” Dylan says breathily. At the same time, I see his hand disappear between his legs, moving rapidly. “Yeah,” I say back, licking my lips. We grind into and with each other as hard and deep as we can manage, and my orgasm builds incredibly fast. I reach up and grip his hair, tugging his head back as I hold my cock deep and swear loudly. Both of us moan as I cum. I see spots of white as pleasure ripples through my body and I fill him with my load. I can’t even breathe steadily, especially since I feel his hole clenching and unclenching on my cock. He must be cumming too. Damn… Now I gotta wash the sheets. Once I come to, I lean my head down and rest my forehead on the back of Dylan’s neck, catching my breath as I wrap my arms around him. He pants a bit but regains control of his breathing much more quickly than I do. “I needed that,” he says softly, laughing a little. I let out a short, breathy laugh before kissing the back of his neck and then sitting up. I pull out of him and then give his ass a light slap (to which he says “Hey!”) before sitting on the edge of the bed and stretching out my shoulders. I hear him shuffling before I feel him get behind me. His arms slide over my shoulders and then wrap around me as he kisses my cheek. “I enjoy you,” he says in my ear. I laugh, patting his hand. “I enjoy you too, kid.” He runs his hands over my torso lightly before he hops off the bed as if full of energy. Ah, to be young. “Mind if I use your bathroom?” “Go ahead,” I say, gesturing towards the master bathroom door. He looks me up and down quickly before saying “Thanks, Dad” with a little wink. He turns, and I watch his ass move as he disappears into the bathroom and shuts the door behind him. Fuck. I fall back on my bed with a sigh and start rubbing my face, thinking “Here we go.”

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Bir cevap yazın

E-posta hesabınız yayımlanmayacak. Gerekli alanlar * ile işaretlenmişlerdir