He giggled as I tickled his neck with my beard. “This is what you told me to wear next time I was here. I’m glad you like it.”
“I love it, sweetheart. You’re such a pretty boy.”
“I’m glad, but I gotta admit, it feels weird not wearing my underwear right now. The chairs are going to be cold when I sit down.”
“Mmm, you could sit on my lap instead.” I reached down, gripping the back of his thighs and lifting him to wrap his long, lean legs around my waist. I backed him into the wall and ravished his plump, pink lips then trailed down his neck, leaving the beard burn I knew he loved so much. I pulled back just enough to unbutton my shirt and spread it wide so I could run my hands up his smooth chest and tweak his nipples.
He cried out, tightening his legs around me so he could grind himself against me. I reached between us and pushed my pants and boxers down, pulling my dick out and wrapping my fist around both our cocks, jerking them as my lips met his again, so hungry for my boy I felt like consuming every single inch of him. My hips started moving, and pretty soon I was rutting against him, pinning him against the wall with my weight.
He wrapped his arms around my neck, holding me close, and whimpered as I moved from his lips to the special part of his neck he loved me to suck. Pumping my hips into his, I tightened my grip and jacked us harder. Sanders moaned and leaned his head back to give me more access to his neck.
He let out a litany of words. “Daddy, oh god. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. Daddy, please.”
I pulled back to meet his gaze. “Please, what, baby?”
“Please, Daddy, let me come. I need…”
“Mmm. You close, sweetheart? Tell Daddy what you need.” I kept up my steady pace and watched him close his eyes as he nodded, whimpering again.
“So close, but I feel so empty.”
Fuck me.
His words brought precum bubbling to my tip. “Oh, baby. You sure? I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Please, please, please.”
“Shhh. I’ve got you.”
Leaning in, I rested my forehead against his and slowed my hips down to concentrate on our dicks. I let go to spit in my palm to ease the friction a bit more than our precum would allow. He brought his hands down to grip my neck, his breathing coming in rough pants.
Pressing him into the wall with my hips, I reached up and brought a finger to his lips. “Suck on Daddy’s finger, baby. Get it nice and wet.”
His whispered, “Oh fuck, yes,” had my cock twitching against his in my fist as he sucked my finger deep into his mouth.
Finger wet, I reached down and rubbed it over his pucker. I knew he had to be a little sore after the last two nights. “Tell me if it’s too much.”
All he did was nod as I slid my finger into his tight hole. He let out a keening wail when I pushed on that soft bundle of nerves and then he was coming, shooting his spunk into my fist and all over my shirt, and it wasn’t two seconds later that my own cock erupted. Holy fuck, this boy was going to kill me, but damned if I wouldn’t die happy.
Our breaths sawed in and out of our chests as we both came down from our orgasmic high and then he was snickering in my arms. I pulled back to look at him. He pulled his lips between his teeth to muffle his laughter, but I could still see his grin peeking through.
My eyes narrowed on my cheeky boy. “And what has you so tickled?”
“We got you all dirty, Daddy.”
I glanced down at my once pristine white shirt, which was covered in our combined spunk, and couldn’t keep my own chuckle from escaping. “This whole thing is your fault, you know.”
His mock-outraged gasp had me grinning. “How is it my fault?”
“You’re the one who came down here in my shirt, looking sexier than any boy has any right to be, and made sure I knew you had no underwear on. Then you proceeded to sniff my shirt and look at me with your fuck-me eyes until I had to take matters into my own hands.”
He grinned at me, unashamed, and released his legs as I helped him get his feet under him. “If this is what wearing my clothes does to you, maybe it’ll be the only thing you get to wear here.”
We both chuckled, and I leaned down to kiss his lips. “The chair will be chilly, so why don’t you run and grab your boxers and another shirt for me while I make us some coffee.”
He sighed. “Day old underwear.”
I chuckled. “Grab some of mine if you want. They’re tight enough they might have some hope of staying on your hips. Although maybe I should buy you some sexy things to wear around the house with my shirts. Maybe some satin and lace panties.”
Meeting his gaze, I was able to watch as the heat spread from his neck up to his face as his mouth hung open.
“What? Never thought of wearing beautiful panties before?”
He closed his mouth and shook his head, eyes wide. I closed in on him again, my body meeting his as he looked up into my eyes, his bottom lip between his teeth. I raised a hand to grip his chin. “You’re sexy without them, but I won’t lie. It would turn me on to see you in something lacy. How do you feel about that, sweetheart?”
Eyes wide and pupils blown again, he finally nodded as if in a trance.
“Good. I can’t wait to get you some, to slide them up your legs until the soft fabric cups your lovely cock and balls, the material stretching over your sweet ass. Would you enjoy that?”
He whimpered and nodded again as if he were unable to form words. I glanced down to see his cock plumping up, turned on all over again. Ah, to be twenty-five again. Grinning, I pecked him on the lips. “Next time you stay here, I’ll have some for you to choose from.”
“Pink.”
Fuck, the boy was trying to send me to an early grave. “You want pink panties?”
He nodded then bit his lip. “Unless that’s stupid?”
My sweet boy. “It’s not stupid at all. I can’t wait to see you in panties. You want bright ones or softer colors?”
His cheeks warmed when he whispered, “Pastel, please, Daddy.”
I captured his lips with my own before answering, “Pastel it is, sweet boy. Now head on up and grab some of my boxers and let me make our coffee. I have the fixings for an omelet if that’s all right? Unless you’d like something else?”
He smiled, finally coming out of his daze now that the conversation had veered back into more comfortable waters. He clasped my shoulders and stood on his tiptoes to kiss me. “An omelet is perfect, Daddy. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now take your sweet ass upstairs before my body has time to recover and I take you on the table this time.”
His grin was a mile wide when he turned to leave. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” He turned and gave me a flirty grin. “I think I’m going to like it when you fuck me on your kitchen table.”
I took a step toward him, growling, “Boy…”
He let a startled “Eep” escape and then he was running toward the stairs, laughing. I chuckled as I turned to make us some coffee. If I smiled anymore, my face was going to hurt. And wasn’t that just a wonderful problem to have?
By the time we were ready to sit down and eat, we were both starving, my boy’s stomach growling just to make its point. I poured us some orange juice, and we ate our breakfast as we chatted about the day. We figured we’d spend it together since he didn’t have to work and no longer had to study.