Return of Scruffy

When Scruffy bounced through my back door Monday afternoon, he sported a short beard like mine. “Well hel-lo!” I said, looking him up and down. “You look adorable.”

He flushed, and his hands immediately went to his face. “I haven’t shaved in a while.”

“I like it a lot. It suits you.” I pushed him against the wall, and grabbed his T-shirt with both fists. The legend written on it, If I throw this stick will you run away?, crumpled between my fingers as his back hit the plaster with a thud. “I’ve missed seeing you.”

“I missed you too,” he said, with his lids half-closed. Then I pressed my lips to his, and for long moments we kissed. “I’ve missed you so much.”

I took him upstairs, and laid him on the bed, and made out with him some more. I love the way Scruffy kisses. His eyes close, his head thrusts forward, and his lips grab hungrily for whatever they can—my lips, my tongue, the hair on my chin. It’s as if he wants to devour me, one greedy slurp at a time.

My mouth can be hungry too. “I am going to make you feel so good,” I whispered into his ear. I kissed down the line of his furry jaw, across his neck, and down to his nipples, poking out from beneath his upraised shirt. Like the rest of him, they’re pink and sensitive, so when I nipped at them with my front teeth, he would hiss and groan. Once I had his body writhing, I dragged my own hairy jaw down the inside of his rib cage to his soft stomach, his navel, his hip bone.

“Was there a memo?” I asked, as I pulled down his camouflage cargo shorts. I was wearing a similar pair. And like me, he wore black underwear and a green T-shirt. He laughed, but didn’t respond, because my nose nudged his pretty pink dick and his smooth, shaved nuts. I sucked him to hardness while he propped himself on his elbows and watched. A smirk covered his lips. Off came the shorts, and then the briefs. I forced him onto his back when I pushed his legs into the air to expose his pretty boy butthole.

I’d seen a slick move in a Dan Fisk movie in which my favorite top had grabbed his bottom around the middle, stood up straight, and rimmed the boy in a standing position while the kid hung suspended upside down and propped on his shoulders. This seemed just as good a place as any to try it; Scruffy yelped when I hauled him up and into the air and buried my mouth between his cheeks. He stared up at me as I watched him, over the top of his hanging sac and stiff dick. With every slurp or bite he twitched and thrashed around. I’d been at it for about five minutes when at last he gasped out, “I can’t—my neck.”

That was fine. I could make him jerk and shudder the old-fashioned way, too. Once he was face-down and in the pillows, I stretched his butt cheeks apart as far as they’d go, slapping them until they turned a bright cherry red while I continued munching on and spitting in his hole. I held his fat cock in my hand and milked it while I worked. Eventually he couldn’t take it any longer.

“Your turn,” he said, and flipped me onto my back. I hadn’t taken off a stitch of clothing at that point, so he undid my cargo shorts and pulled off my trunks and threw them across the room. Then he did that thing he does to my nuts.

I don’t know how to describe the technique he uses on my balls. He lies down between my legs and takes them both into his mouth at the same time. Then he fellates them. Back and forth his mouth goes, in and out, in almost the same manner as if he was working up and down my cock’s shaft. He never lets my balls pop out, but the sensation of his tongue and lips and teeth around them, and the rhythmic stretching of my sac always drives me nuts. It feels like edging during masturbation; there’s a low-level feeling of ecstasy that plays around the base of my spine that widens and narrows, and the softest of tickles at the back of my neck. I feel as if I’m close to orgasm, or even having it, but it’s the most gentle and sweet of orgasms ever, and lasts for so much longer. Whenever Scruffy goes for my balls and nuzzles them in his mouth, I know I’m in for a good fifteen or twenty minutes of grabbing at the the headboard and hanging on for dear life.

“I don’t know how the hell you do that,” I told him, once he was done. I was actually sweating, despite the ceiling fan. I’d shut the windows before he’d come over.

“I like making you feel good,” he said. “Now fuck me.”

I obliged.

I’ve never shot less than three times on any of Scruffy’s visits. He always milks out the first load expertly, demanding that I shoot in him to juice him up. Then, once my first set of shudders and quiverings subside, he’s relentlessly squeezing and nursing my dick with his hole to keep me hard and interested. “I love your cum,” he told me yesterday, while I was working up load number two. He reached down to the point where we connected, which was slick with my first sperm deposit. His fingers swiped some of the excess from his hole, and he sucked it off. “Whenever you’re in me, it feels like home.”

“You feel so good,” I whispered into his ear. We were lying on our sides, and I had my arms around him while I swiveled and ground my hips.

“I want to be home for you, too, daddy,” he said. Scruffy is a sensual boy. He responds to every stroke of my fingertips, every lick, every swipe of my beard. When I ran the flat of my palm down his side, his skin shivered and erupted in gooseflesh.

“You are home,” I assured him. “You are a beautiful boy, and every time I’m inside you, I am home.”

“I want to keep doing this forever and ever,” he said. His hand was working over his dick, which was wet with precum and the juices he kept slapping on from our fucking. “Please say you’ll keep seeing me.”

“Of course I will!” I said, surprised that he’d even say such a thing. “I love seeing you. You know that!”

“I just worry you’ll find another boy you like better. I want to be your boy.”

I couldn’t answer that one, right away. At last I said, quite honestly, “I’m here. I’m in you. It’s just you and me, and every time I shoot inside you, you’re more and more my boy.”

“Yes,” he said, groaning. I was saying exactly what he wanted to hear.

“Every time you take my sperm, you’re more and more clearly marked as mine. All mine.”

“Daddy’s boy,” he whispered.

“Daddy’s boy,” I agreed.

When he came, it was softly and almost as if he didn’t realize it was happening. Sperm gushed from the slit of his dick and spread over his abdomen and dripped onto the bed. The warm gush of it covered the back of my hand and turned me on so much that I followed shortly after, shooting a second load deep inside.

For my third time I fucked him on his back. “I wish I had pictures of this,” he said. “Or a video. Just so I could see what it looked like.”

Though I didn’t stop fucking, I held up a finger. “Just a second.” I leaned back and grabbed my phone from the table nearby, without pulling out. While I continued stroking in and out, I turned on the video capture, let it run for a minute, and then replayed it. “Too dark,” I said, handing the phone over so he could see the results.

“Still hot,” he murmured, licking his fingers and then reaching down to his swollen hole.

I pulled on the ceiling fan light and tried again. This time, the video was more cooperative. You could see my wet dick going in and out, and my red cock head pausing right before every thrust. I filmed for a while, then handed over the video again.

“Oh god,” he groaned. The sight of his own hole being fucked made him tighten up and clench at me. His excitement contributed to my excitement. Soon I was pumping load number three deep into his guts. “Every time,” he yelled at top volume, thrashing around even as my own orgasm subsided. This is why I’d closed the windows before he’d arrived. When he’s excited, Scruffy is a loud, loud boy. “You do this every god-damned time! How do you fuck out so many loads? I’ve gotta—!”

What he had to do was throw me down onto the bed, where he buried his face between my butt cheeks. Scruffy likes to eat my ass as he shoots. It didn’t take him long before he was grunting and buckling. He shoved me down onto the bed and brought his cock to my mouth just as it started to explode. I reached forward with my lips and greedily sucked down the cum, every drop.

“So good,” he said, lying back afterward, panting. Then he started laughing. Outright laughter, deep belly rumbles, as if he’d just heard the funniest fart joke in the world.

I sat upright. “What?” I asked, genuinely curious. I couldn’t help but laugh too, though I didn’t feel like I knew why.

“Just—I’m just so happy right this minute,” he said. “Laughing seems like the right thing to do.”

He was right. Laughing seemed perfect for that moment. So I lay there with him and laughed, just happy to be well and alive and enjoying his company.