When I was younger, and yearning for more than a good fuck. One of the things I enjoyed was role playing the son to a daddy. This reminds me of one of those times, an exceptional time really. I did some questionable stuff in my day, and a 16 year old hooking up with a man in his late 30s, was one of them.
We set it up that I would come to his home after track practice, around when he got home from work. He would lay in his bed, as if he passed out, sometimes he actually did. Still covered in his sweat from a long shift. I would come along, I’d see him in his bed, splayed out, usually partially clothed and I would crawl over him, laying gently on him in my shorts and boxers. Gently resting my head on his chest, listening to him breathe and the soft rhythm of his heart. He’d wake up and call me son, asking how my day went and we’d chat for a little bit making small talk. I’d make some remark about him needing a bath, and he’d say something about how he likes how his good boy cleans him up right.
I’d start with his face, cleaning him with my kisses, my tongue cleaning the insides of his mouth. I’d head for his pits, the strong smell of man and sweat. I’d lick them clean of their scent. I’d run my tongue down his chest, where I’d stop at his underwear, before asking if he brought me something from work. I can hear him say, “your favorite” before I pulled his briefs down to expose his uncut cock. I admired the warmth, and brought my face to it, smelling it, kissing it, licking it, swallowing it. My throat cleaned it, only to make it dirty again when I would tell him I wanted him to be closer to me. He pull me, lay me on my back, pushing my knees to my chest. Before telling me Daddy will always be part of his boy, gently nudging his cock through my waiting sphincter. Interlocking his fingers with mine, and pulling my arms above my head. His breathe in my face, mine in his, as he planted both himself, and in due course his seed into me.
When he finished fertilizing me with the seeds that which makes a man. He would stay on top of me, still inside me, slowly softening and would gently drift off. Our roles reversed from when I first entered the room.
When I was younger, and yearning for more than a good fuck. One of the things I enjoyed was role playing the son to a daddy. This reminds me of one of those times, an exceptional time really. I did some questionable stuff in my day, and a 16 year old hooking up with a man in his late 30s, was one of them.
We set it up that I would come to his home after track practice, around when he got home from work. He would lay in his bed, as if he passed out, sometimes he actually did. Still covered in his sweat from a long shift. I would come along, I’d see him in his bed, splayed out, usually partially clothed and I would crawl over him, laying gently on him in my shorts and boxers. Gently resting my head on his chest, listening to him breathe and the soft rhythm of his heart. He’d wake up and call me son, asking how my day went and we’d chat for a little bit making small talk. I’d make some remark about him needing a bath, and he’d say something about how he likes how his good boy cleans him up right.
I’d start with his face, cleaning him with my kisses, my tongue cleaning the insides of his mouth. I’d head for his pits, the strong smell of man and sweat. I’d lick them clean of their scent. I’d run my tongue down his chest, where I’d stop at his underwear, before asking if he brought me something from work. I can hear him say, “your favorite” before I pulled his briefs down to expose his uncut cock. I admired the warmth, and brought my face to it, smelling it, kissing it, licking it, swallowing it. My throat cleaned it, only to make it dirty again when I would tell him I wanted him to be closer to me. He pull me, lay me on my back, pushing my knees to my chest. Before telling me Daddy will always be part of his boy, gently nudging his cock through my waiting sphincter. Interlocking his fingers with mine, and pulling my arms above my head. His breathe in my face, mine in his, as he planted both himself, and in due course his seed into me.
When he finished fertilizing me with the seeds that which makes a man. He would stay on top of me, still inside me, slowly softening and would gently drift off. Our roles reversed from when I first entered the room.