Sealed With A Lick

I kissed his shoulders first and slowly lifted his top to play with his nipples. His skin was smooth and a tiny bit oily. Huge splotches of freckles, some trailing off to form new clusters, mottled his body as if by some fevered cartographer mapping long forgotten lands. He tasted like bologna almost. His hair hadn't been washed in a few weeks and smelled of stale sweat, as did his stubbly arm pits which I licked and nuzzled. nibbling them like small, clitless pussies. He winced with some degree of annoyance at my love bites. I was slowly becoming hard. He faintly brushed my cock with the back of his hand and held his head at an awkward angle, keeping his face turned slightly towards the ceiling and away from mine. Intimacy, after all, was not tolerated in his line of work unless paid extra for. He rubbed his itching nose with his left index finger while cupping and squeezing my balls in his right hand. Thick gobs of precum began trickling from my pee hole and I could feel my nuts begin to move on their own, that sweet, kissing dance inside the sack.

I straddled his body and quickly turned around to face his feet. Before he could utter a word I plunged my throbbing pecker deep into his mouth. His tiny, red-painted lips pursing around my shaft. I grabbed one of his ankles and then the other, bringing his feet together, sole to sole. Sliding his socks off with one hand was challenging, especially while fucking his tight, gurgling mouth as if it were an asshole. I humped hard against his face, my big, bloated balls bouncing and jiggling over the bridge of his nose, sometimes even covering either or both eyes in their abandon. The feeling of his lashes as they batted against the wrinkled, swollen flesh of my nuts was exquisite. I jammed all five digits of his right foot into my mouth simultaneously, sucking them hard like tangy grapes. For a tall and slender young waif his toes were fat, little nubs. Their stoutness and girth were charming to me. I even enjoyed swallowing the chewy bits that had managed to accumulate between them, due in no small part to my "Flower's" apparent disdain for washing. As I licked away at the cracked, crusty soles of my concubine the degree of my lover's dislike for soap and water became even more obvious as his own hunger and lust entered the fray.