Vrenille swallows mouthful after mouthful, though at moments it's a lot. If he didn't know it already, the volume and force would be enough to tell him that Mustang hasn't cum in a while. And even if he had, Vrenille knows that the way he rocks the massager as he feels the first contraction pump against his tongue, the way he presses that gland to make Mustang empty himself fully, assures that he'd be getting as big a load as the man's able to give.
He doesn't pull off the whole time, taking spurt after spurt right to the back of his tongue, throat working to swallow down the thickness, the bitter-salt taste spreading in his mouth. And he caries on sucking him right through the aftershocks, one hand coming to the base of Mustang's shaft, helping to squeeze the final drops out of him.
The long finish gives him time to swallow all the traces properly, and when he finally lets Mustang's cock slip from its temporary home between his lips, he's clean and subsiding, ready to be tucked right back into that jockstrap, which is precisely what Vrenille does with him, the prostate massager still nestled securely in its place.
Unbeknownst to them both, some shop clerk has discreetly placed a bottle of water and a little packet of wet wipes in the cubicle beside them, having apparently been and gone at some point between the blowjob's start and its finish. And of course the curtain to the changing room is still open. No one's looking their way just now, but it's not hard to guess that they would have been not long before.
Cracking open the bottle of water, Vrenille takes a swig to wash Mustang's semen down. Inevitably though, he can still feel traces of it clinging in the back of his throat. He looks, frankly, very pleased with himself.
"You're welcome. I think you needed that," he grins, a hand going to his own lap to adjust the bulge in his jeans again. He was throbbing deliciously the whole time he sucked Mustang off, but he's still got some way to go on his own much slower journey to release. "Dunno how you'd have gotten through the way I'm gonna fuck you later without it."
no subject
He doesn't pull off the whole time, taking spurt after spurt right to the back of his tongue, throat working to swallow down the thickness, the bitter-salt taste spreading in his mouth. And he caries on sucking him right through the aftershocks, one hand coming to the base of Mustang's shaft, helping to squeeze the final drops out of him.
The long finish gives him time to swallow all the traces properly, and when he finally lets Mustang's cock slip from its temporary home between his lips, he's clean and subsiding, ready to be tucked right back into that jockstrap, which is precisely what Vrenille does with him, the prostate massager still nestled securely in its place.
Unbeknownst to them both, some shop clerk has discreetly placed a bottle of water and a little packet of wet wipes in the cubicle beside them, having apparently been and gone at some point between the blowjob's start and its finish. And of course the curtain to the changing room is still open. No one's looking their way just now, but it's not hard to guess that they would have been not long before.
Cracking open the bottle of water, Vrenille takes a swig to wash Mustang's semen down. Inevitably though, he can still feel traces of it clinging in the back of his throat. He looks, frankly, very pleased with himself.
"You're welcome. I think you needed that," he grins, a hand going to his own lap to adjust the bulge in his jeans again. He was throbbing deliciously the whole time he sucked Mustang off, but he's still got some way to go on his own much slower journey to release. "Dunno how you'd have gotten through the way I'm gonna fuck you later without it."