Little Jack Horner

Little Jack Horner (c) 2001  by Mike Kimera
Having often sucked and sometimes swallowed but never had it up me, I thought myself cherry; ripe but unplucked.
On my knees with his plum in my mouth, feeling smug for snagging a hardbody and proud of making him so thick, I saw the condom as cute politeness, not evidence of a deeper intent.
Pulling out, still hard, he whispered “Your turn Jack,” and pushed me on my back.
I expected his hand on my cock, but not the solid pressure against my ring.
I tensed. He hesitated.
“Pluck me,” I said
With a grin he slid his penis in.

Little Jack Horner (c) 2001  by Mike Kimera
Having often sucked and sometimes swallowed but never had it up me, I thought myself cherry; ripe but unplucked.
On my knees with his plum in my mouth, feeling smug for snagging a hardbody and proud of making him so thick, I saw the condom as cute politeness, not evidence of a deeper intent.
Pulling out, still hard, he whispered “Your turn Jack,” and pushed me on my back.
I expected his hand on my cock, but not the solid pressure against my ring.
I tensed. He hesitated.
“Pluck me,” I said
With a grin he slid his penis in.

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