As my lips and tongue completed their task, Paul threw his leg over my head before spinning towards the end of the bed. Once he started to crawl towards the end of the bed, he said “whew, I need a drink.” Followed immediately by him, once again dropping his head to my crotch.
Being that I was half deflated at this point, Paul was able to inhale my whole shaft. He pulled on it with suction, trying to coerce the remaining remnants of my hands-free orgasm. Not having my orgasm “pumped” from me, I could feel several large flows of semen flowing through my cock and into his welcoming mouth.
Once I was confident that he had sufficiently cleared my pipe, I pulled his head from my dick, while laughing and saying “woah there, not the kind of drink I was expecting.” In reality, I was having a difficult time maintaining my composure, while his mouth was working my super-sensitive crown.
As we both grabbed a beer, and me, the pipe, we headed back out to sit by the fire that was still going. The only thing that didn’t join us was Paul’s plug. And if that was any indication of how the rest of the weekend was going to go, I’d be surprised if we got any hunting accomplished.