Keith 2 If depictions of joy offend you or violate local restrictions, hang up now, clear your cache and pour syrup in your keyboard. Otherwise, kneel and follow along in the book. There will be an oral exam. This story is Copyright 2012 (2019) by Soaringtoad. No other reproduction or distribution than Nifty Archives is permitted, without the author's permission. Please donate to Nifty: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html .
Keith 2
After a couple more encounters, Keith seemed to know that the tenderness, being held afterward, was a big thing for me. The boat shed wasn't private enough, or comfy enough, for what we needed. It was his idea to get together on Sundays and to use my pup tent. The afternoons passed in dreamy sucking, in soul-wrenching comes and, afterward, tenderly lying with my head on his chest, or toying with his soft penis and his satiny bag.
After a couple of times, he was comfortable enough with the whole thing to get down and take a good look at my young pee-pee too, and to touch my balls with his hand. His hand was so gentle. His hand was cool. He cupped me and surrounded my bag with his fingers, grasping, just a little, and I moaned. He did it again and I moaned some more. Languidly, he slid his soft hand over everything I had, taking me, making me shiver and burn.
"So soft," I heard myself moan, "so soft!" and came hard into his hand. Came throughout my body, came in my ass, in my hands and my feet, came hard and long and tender and he was taking me and he was so, so gentle. "So soft," I shuddered. I felt myself drool and tried to wipe it. My hand missed my face. Keith smiled and did it for me.
He kissed my cheek. "Good," he said. "It felt good, to give you that."
Tears came as I put my head on his chest to be held. Tears for the deep touching and for the fact that this couldn't be forever.
I kissed his dick, privately taking delight in the intimacy of the little remnant of his cream that still lingered between his pee lips, late drainage from his massive blast of a few minutes ago. It stirred back to chubbiness, but I knew from experience that he was rarely interested in trying for a second time so soon. Now that his own sexual loneliness was dispelled by having me to come to, he wasn't so frantic for quantity, just regularity.
It's funny. You know how you can taste it, if a guy's dick skin is rubbed a little raw? That one spot will taste a little tart? Well, after our first couple of Sunday encounters, he was showing up with his dick skin all beat up. I asked him if he was beating off a lot.
"Fuck, yeah."
"More than usual?"
"Way more, since we met."
"What do you usually think about?"
"I dunno. Pussies, sometimes. Mostly about what we do. About... your mouth, how it... feels. Sometimes I'll picture your lips and it'll make me come. It's more real; pussies are just in my imagination."
"Did you ever... have a pussy to... do things with?"
"You mean fuck?"
"Yeah," I sighed, feeling a sad pang, knowing that this is where our two worlds were destined to diverge.
"Shit no, I've never even see one up close and personal."
"Or smelled one?"
"Gik. That either. But I'd sure like to stick my boner in one."
"Yeah," a little glumly. He raised my chin with his finger and touched it to my lips, looking in my face.
"Like your tight little butt." I felt something glorious in my hole, as those words struck home. My boner was back and I felt so little and so cared for.
"Ohhh!" It just came out in a low moan.
"That's what I'd like," he said. "What would you like to try more than anything?"
"A... anything with you. You can... be in my butt. I think I'd like that. But what I want the most is... dydees," I blushed.
"Dydees?"
"I want to wear a diaper while I suck you. A soft dydee. I want a soft dydee to sperm in when I suck you." The depraved confession was delicious.
"Do you have one?" His look was soft, direct, kind.
"No, the soft cloth ones in the closet are real small."
"Don't you have a sewing machine?"
"No."
"Look, if you can get enough of the little ones, maybe 4 or... 6, I can find some way to sew them together so we can play."
"Oh, that would be cool. When do you want my... to m... make love to my butt."
"Anytime. I can bring some lubricant. Can you bring some Noxema and some T.P?"
"Yeah," I said, anticipation and fear and abandon all coming together. The joy of being this way rang through me. And the joy of my desires being understood. The joy of being his.
"Can I suck you again?"
"Of course." I lay with my head toward his feet and took him that way, so I could be with his darling nuts, and smell them, this time.
The second time is always more gentle. I have more time to savor his boner and to bring him to a longer come. It's more personal, in its way. And you can watch the texture of his bag change as he gets ready. I'm sorry, I just love sucking.
He hardened and his pretty pee lips drooled clear and he started to thrust little pokes up from the ground, into my grateful mouth. I could feel the wonderful soft texture of his dick skin slide against the top and the sides of my mouth, the ridge of his head sliding sweet and tickly across my tongue. My heart was content with this gentle sucking, as I slid to hold his bag and it got hard like leather.
When his dickhead swelled in my mouth, I pressed the top of his dick with my lower lip, bending him upwards a little, sucking his bigness to help me bend him. He always comes harder when I do that. His second load came gently, voluptuously. I had time to feel it and savor the joy of taking it, before I ate it. This time, he reached over and rapidly patted my little pee-pee to help me over the hump, so we could shoot together.
I went home happy, sliding in my gooey undies, with a warm heart.
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