#36462 - It was about the time he’d finished slipping into the skirt that his attention was drawn to my crotch; then, he presented another request, infinitely more frightening than the last; “Can I suck your cock?” I was at a loss for words, and thoughts raced through my head--thoughts of things that could soon be, thoughts that made my genitals swell with blood. But time -- in this case, the time it took me to flee the scene and get down to writing -- heals all wounds, or so I was once told. His whole body quivered subtly, stifling expressions of the pain whence my cock tore into his comfortable rectum; I squeezed his buttocks and pulled him so far on to my cock that it became fully enveloped--he could not hold down a yelp--and I squeezed tighter, thereafter retracting two thirds of my length only to thrust it all back in with heinous quickness and force.
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