As I held his penis in my hands, I gently pulled the foreskin down to expose its pink bulging tip. I spotted a tiny drop of pre-cum at the open slit and, as I squeezed his tool, I heard him sigh and groan as a large blob of juice oozed from the end and ran into my fingers. I slowly moistened the end of his tool with his own juice and I heard him moaning again. I looked up at his face but it seemed passive and emotionless, and his eyes were still closed.
I leaned forward and placed my lips around the slippery and delicious head of his organ. My tongue had just begun to taste him and I was about to enjoy the next part of my exploration when I realised that he was shaking all over. I pulled back to see that the whole top of his chest and neck were flushed and before I knew what was happening, I heard him let out a kind of a mournful cry and with a groan, he exploded up across his belly and his chest. The first jet shot right up beyond his nipple, then the second into the middle of his chest and the third across his belly, as my hand felt his cum coursing up through his tool – 4, 5, 6, times he pumped, gobs of creamy cum now running down his tool into his bush of pubic hair.
He writhed about in a mixture of agony and ecstasy, seemingly unaware in his alcohol-induced stupor. His head flipped violently back and forth from side to side, as his face flushed and he gasped in his sleep. And then he lay still, his insides now completely drained of all fluids. God, he was going to have one hell of a hangover tomorrow!
I cleaned him up with tissues as best I could for the second time, pulling his underpants back up under his bum and gently replacing his now softening organ into their somewhat damp and sweaty front pouch. I sat there for minutes, just drinking-in his beautiful, innocent form and what had just happened. As I sat there, he stirred in his sleep, groaned and then rolled over onto his front. Now, clad in those black underpants (the ones with the white waistband and piping!) the beautifully rounded shape of his bum was laying beside me.
The temptation to do more to him was enormous but I was already feeling a bit guilty for what I had already done, although I kept telling myself, he had offered himself to me quite freely. I leaned over and put my nose between his lovely ass-cheeks and inhaled the musky sweatiness of a young man.
Then, sighing to myself in resignation, I softly kissed his ass cheeks in turn and gently folded one side of the duvet over him and left him sleeping, while I went back to the kitchen to finish the washing and ironing! Well, there was no way I was going to be getting much sleep tonight after that!
Next morning, I awoke from a doze on my sofa at about 6am and immediately went to look in on young David. He had obviously been writhing about in the night, because the duvet was all over the place and he was now in the foetal position, only partly covered and half hanging off the edge of the bed. I roused him with two paracetamol and another glass of water and he blearily came too, looking at me and then around the room.
“Where am I?” he asked, as he emerged from the remains of the duvet and sat up.
“You’re in my bedroom and you’re on my bed,” I replied, “and you need to get up and go home. You were somewhat the worse for your celebrating last night and I had to wash your shirt and trousers. They’re in the bathroom.”
As I sat next to him, the mixture of aromas that arose from beneath the duvet, reminded me of alcohol, stale vomit and slightly damp cum. He just looked at me. He was so sweet and innocent; he seemed quite unaware of what had happened last night and he just kept saying “Thank you” and “I’m really sorry”.
When he came out of the bathroom, having had a shower and got dressed, I thought, to myself,
“I wonder, if he wonders, why there are cum-stains inside his underpants.” And I briefly began thinking about them, and what lay inside them, underneath the freshly pressed black trousers he was again wearing.
“Please, please don’t say anything to my parents,” he pleaded, as I let him out the front door.
“Of course I won’t say anything. Look, I know how stressed you’ve been lately, what with your exams and your Dad ‘n all, but if you ever want to just talk anytime, you know where to find me.”
He smiled, looked directly into my eyes (that always does it!) and said,
“Thanks, I will.”
And he did too – quite a number of times in the months that followed!