Alien Visit
Chapter 4
We arrived at the restaurant a few minutes early, but our table was ready. We strode through it toward the back and into the outside dining space. As the outdoor space was on the north side, the sun wouldn't be directly on us. Walking through the restaurant, all eyes followed us. Two large, muscular men together seemed to surprise them. I didn't know why, but I didn't care. I did wonder which one of us they thought worthy of more interest. Again, I didn't care. I was satisfied that I bedded this giant man with the beautiful body and horsedick, and he was all mine.
Scrubbing before we left, we hoped that his pheromones wouldn't attract the wrong kind of attention. As I followed him to the back of the place, I couldn't help but notice his round, tight ass. I remembered how good it tasted and how much my dick loved to be between those glorious, pink melons. Of course, that caused the usual problem with my dick. The farther we moved into the restaurant, the harder my dick got. By the time we were seated, I was full brick. Even in my dress slacks, it created an obvious dick bulge.
Pieter smiled at me as I sat down. "I see that you're stiff, again," he whispered. "I thought I scrubbed thoroughly."
"You did, but the cause is my over-active memory," I muttered. "Watching you walk before me from the car to here made my dick hard," I elaborated.
"This could get bad," he responded. "I'm picturing my dick deep in your ass or your black dick in mine. That's gonna start my pheromones blooming again. Let's talk about something else. Maybe that will change our current dilemma."
Our waiter interrupted our reverie and asked if we'd like a cocktail before dinner. I checked the list of wines and selected a bottle of champagne from California. The waiter nodded and left. "Well, no reaction from him yet," I commented.
"So, you think he's gay?" Pieter asked.
"I think so," I responded. "He sure looks good in those tight pants." I sighed. "But, I could be just thinking that a guy like that should have a boyfriend, not a girlfriend. He's really quite handsome and well-built."
"I agree, but we aren't getting away from the problem we just discussed," Pieter reminded me. He picked up a menu as did I. "Let's talk about your prospective buyers. That might help."
With mounting excitement I told him about the two offers that would be in my office Monday morning. I was thinking that the two gay men had the winning bid, but I wasn't sure what the owner wanted to do. He may decide that he'd give the woman a second chance to bid again. It had happened before. And when I spoke with him on Monday, he also had to tell me which items he wanted to take with him. Further, I assumed that both interested bidders would want to walk through the estate again in case they needed to make a higher bid. At that point, they'd also know which items the current owner would take with him.
Finally, I mentioned the monetary windfall that was coming my way when the sale was finalized. "I haven't any idea what kind of money that represents or how significant it is," Pieter admitted. "I didn't study that part of human culture. I know that it's important, but the scale eludes me."
I tried to explain the significance of the amount I'd get by comparing the Phantom to any other car in my community and comparing that to the general population of cars on the road. I'm not sure he understood even then. Tomorrow, after meeting with my client, I'd take him around the area and show him what homes sell for in the general area and compare them to the one I lived in and the house that I was selling. I still didn't know if that would help, but that was the plan.
"And something I've been wondering, B. J.?" Pieter asked. "What do the letters B' and J' stand for? I know that humans don't name their children with letters, but with real names."
"My parents were church people, so they used names from the Bible," I sighed. "Benoni & Jeremiah don't exactly roll off the tongue," I admitted. "I went by Ben in school, but by the time I was out of school, I'd changed it to B. J., because that's what friends were calling me. They thought it was easier and funny."
"Why did they think it was funny?"
"In most circles, B. J. means blowjob," I smirked.
"Oh, that would be, uh, an issue, I suppose. So, why did you keep it, then?"
"I liked the sound of it and hated the name `Ben'. I have no idea why, but I don't like the sound of that name for reasons only my subconscious knows," I stated. "And what is your real name?" I asked.
"It's probably unpronounceable to humans," he replied.
"Try me," I challenged. He leaned over and whispered in my ear. The sounds he made were two clicks spaced apart with something that sounded like "wick", but I wasn't sure. And there was a guttural growl at the end. "Okay, I think you're right. But, I'd like to try, anyway."
"Suit yourself," he allowed.
Our waiter returned with our bottle of California champagne, popped the cork which he left on the table next to Pieter (assuming he was my sugar daddy) and poured a small amount into his flute. Pieter tasted it (I'd instructed him before we left the house that he was supposed to do that) and pronounced it fit to consume. The waiter poured a full measure for both of us and we toasted to my impending successful closure of a very expensive estate.
We ordered our meal, making sure that what was in the salads and main courses weren't items new to Pieter's palate. When we finished eating, the waiter returned to ask us about dessert, after presenting a dessert menu. I checked it out and thought that a chocolate pot de crème would be a nice finish for dinner. The waiter brought it a few minutes later. Pieter touched the surface of the chocolate and recoiled, sticking his finger in the water glass. He uttered a word I'd never heard before, nor could I repeat in his native language. He looked over at me and smiled. "I think I'm allergic to this. What is it?" he wondered. "And before you ask, my verbal reaction doesn't have a translatable meaning, but it isn't a nice word to be repeated in public."
"Chocolate," I said, taking his word for the untranslatable reaction. "It's a favorite dessert and is used in candies around the world, too."
"Okay, we know I can't have that," he grinned. "Will I see it more often in other foods?"
"No," I responded. "Chocolate is loved by nearly everyone, but it is a unique substance and taste that is reserved for special occasions and for rewarding yourself for something you did, I suppose. But, it's not in main courses as a general rule. Chocolate is reserved for dessert after a meal or a snack between meals. Would you like to try a different dessert, perhaps a raspberry or lemon tart?"
"No, I'm good. I'll just stay away from chocolate in the future and you can warn me if it comes my way again."
"There is such a thing as white chocolate that isn't dark brown like this. I'll warn you if I see that, too," I suggested. "Is your finger okay?"
He pulled it out of the water and wiped his finger off. "No apparent damage," he smiled, "at least, nothing yet. I may have a delayed reaction later."
"Why don't you go to the men's room and wash with soap and water," I suggested, "just to be sure that nothing lingers on your skin. I'll take care of the check and I'll meet you back here."
I slipped a credit card into the folder that had the final cost in it. The waiter took it away and returned just as Pieter came back. "All good?" I asked him.
"Yes, that was a good idea," he answered. "And I think we're done here," he added. I wondered why he seemed to be in a rush to leave, but I didn't ask. He did reveal why, as we walked to the parked car. "My pheromones are starting to kick in," he revealed. "Some guy was standing at the urinal next to the sinks and he was playing with his dick. You know what that does to me." I nodded and smiled. "Of course, my dick started getting hard and I knew I was in trouble when he sniffed and his eyes started to glaze over. I beat a hasty retreat and hurried back to the table. I was afraid that our waiter would have the same reaction."
I glanced over my shoulder and spotted the waiter at the doorway, wistfully looked after us. "Yeah, he followed us out of the restaurant, but stopped at the door. You are easily aroused," I laughed. "And I love that. But, not so much in a public place," I added.
We bred and felched each other for an hour before sleeping and another hour after waking up. Finally, we got out of bed and showered. I made breakfast again and he ate two helpings. We worked out a couple of hours later in the house and showered again. I had to leave for my early afternoon appointment with the owner of the estate, but had to get to my office first and review the two offers. Leaving Pieter to make his own lunch, he offered again to make dinner. I assured him that this time, he could go ahead. But, I wanted to show him the estate I was handling before the new owners took possession. I suggested Friday. He nodded absently, thinking about dinner.
I told him I'd call after I talked to the seller and he'd tagged the items he wanted to take with him. I'd also have to call the two bidders and give them the answer to their offers. It would be a full day.
Pieter still insisted that he wanted to make dinner, just to prove that he could. I smiled and assured him that I had no issues with that. I merely wanted to make sure that he didn't start something before all of my business was concluded. Besides, he might need help finding ingredients and what temperatures the food needed to cook and for how long. He agreed that he'd need that kind of help. With a kiss, I left him at my house.
At the office, the two offers were on my desk. They'd been delivered earlier by messenger. I opened both and flipped to the pages where the real important stuff was, skipping all the legalese that went with it. The offered amounts were as discussed yesterday. I did see a slight problem with the furnishings and art work bids. I knew I'd need a qualified appraiser to check out the furnishings and art work. That would give me an estimate of their value. But, that couldn't be accomplished until the owner had tagged his sentimental items. I placed a call to a man that I knew who did that kind of work. He suggested that a woman he knew would be better at determining the value of the art work than he would be. He said that his fee wouldn't change. Further, he suggested that the appraisal could be done tomorrow, if the current owner agreed. I told him I'd call him back with a confirmation or a change.
I met with the owner at 12:30 p.m. and walked through the offers and what he needed to do about tagging items he wanted to take with him. We handled that first. He put an adhesive backed red ribbon on what he wanted to keep. There were six books from the library and only four pieces of wall art. However, he also wanted to take three pieces of sculpture, too. I didn't think the buyers would care.
And then we got down to business. The owner was a man in his 70s who'd recently lost his wife to cancer. He'd decided that he had too much property and too many things. He wasn't sure he wanted to give any of it to his children, but that wasn't my issue, he admitted. From a strictly monetary perspective, he liked the higher offer of the gay couple. I suggested that I could contact the other agent representing the woman and ask if that was her best and final offer. We could make a decision after that. He said he'd wait while I called the woman's agent with the counter offer.
The agent called me back half an hour later and said that because of the remodeling required, she couldn't go any higher than $20.5 million and wouldn't budge on the offer for the furnishings. I thanked her for her time, but told her that wouldn't be good enough. I'd send the rejection letter by registered mail this afternoon. I called my office and asked my secretary to draft the letter. I'd sign it as soon as I returned. She'd take it to the post office and get it sent.
I returned to the owner and told him of the counter-offer. "It looks like we have a winner with the $21 million dollar offer. But, I'm not sure about his offer on the furnishings," he mused.
"I've contacted an independent appraiser who can be here tomorrow to value the furnishings and artwork, less the items you've tagged," I proposed. "Is that alright with you?"
"Do I need to be here for that?"
"No, I have the pass and the keys. I'll be here with them. They'll have their report ready for you on Wednesday if their past work is indicative," I suggested.
"Okay, then," the owner agreed. "And that appraisal will determine what I get for the furnishings and so forth?"
"The buyer has indicated that he'll agree to that, but I'll confirm it when I call him with the news," I said.
"Good. Let me know if I need to do anything more. And thank you for your fast work on the sale. This is amazingly quick," he smiled.
"It helps when you have two motivated buyers," I agreed and shook his hand. When I left, I called the gay couple and told them that they had the winning bid and confirmed that they agreed to pay what the appraisers valued the furnishings. They were delighted. I told them that the paperwork would be ready for their signatures on Thursday after the report of the appraisers had been reviewed. Further, I asked how soon they wanted to take possession. They agreed that they'd like to move quickly. I suggested 30 days for closing. They hoped it would be sooner. I offered to talk to the owner and the escrow company that would be handling the money and final paperwork to see if they could speed things up. This was a cash offer, after all.
Further, I suggested it might be possible for them to move in next week and pay rent until the sale was completed. They liked that idea a lot. I called the owner and asked him if he had an opinion. He said that he wanted it over as soon as possible and was more than willing to retrieve his few items and vacate immediately. I asked him what he'd like as a rental payment. He said that market rates would be adequate. After a little research on-line, I suggested an amount and he agreed to it. "They would like to move in right after the paperwork for the offer is signed. That's on Thursday. Would Saturday be too soon?"
"No, go with Saturday. I'll take my stuff with me on Wednesday and I'll sign everything at your office on Thursday. Then, I'm flying back to France to another property I own there in the southwest corner of the country. It isn't in a big city, but in a town or village, depending on your perspective. I love the place, but it's really more house than I need. My apartment in New York City is all I need now that my wife is gone," he sighed.
"Are you thinking of selling the place in France?" I wondered idly.
"Yes, but I haven't had time to put it on the market, yet. I wanted to get rid of this place first. There is nothing in it that I value, so it'll be the house and furnishings. I owned another place in the Champagne region that was a chateau with all the trimmings. However, it proved to be too much for someone of my years, so I sold it three years ago, just before my wife died. We thought the house in the south of France would be just what we needed, but I've decided that it isn't. The weather is much better than the Champagne region and it isn't full of tourists."
"Do you have a price in mind?" I wondered.
"It's worth about a million, give or take," he replied. "Real estate away from the big cities is quite cheap in France, even for one as big as this one. It sits on a couple of acres of gardens, so that's part of why the price is higher than most homes in town."
"Intriguing," I mused. "Is it close to amenities like rail and bus lines? Markets, bakeries, restaurants?"
"Yes, it's on the edge of town. You can easily walk to the places you mentioned. It's an old place made of stone. I think it's about 500 years old, but was completely remodeled before we bought it 15 years ago," he added. "Are you interested personally?"
"I just might be. Do you think it has rental potential?" I asked.
"Absolutely, but you'd need someone in town to act as your rental agent, someone who could take care of the place when you weren't in residence. The grounds would require nearly year-round tending, too. And I have a gardener who is very good and cheap," he laughed. "There are large airports in cities about 35 minutes away that have daily jet aircraft flights to Paris, Barcelona, and other cities in Europe. The beach is about 40 minutes away, as is Spain. There are lots of vineyards, farmer's markets, chateaus, and castles, as well as ancient churches with old mosaics on the floors. And the winter sports in the Pyrenees also beckon. So there's a lot to do when you're there."
"Very intriguing," I mused. "I think I need to make a trip to France soon," I smiled.
I went to my office and signed the rejection letter as well as the official notification to the successful bidders. By e-mail, I sent an agreement to the appraiser, too. I'd suggested an escrow company to handle the transaction. Buyer and seller agreed.
As I was getting ready to leave, Jennifer called. "Would you be interested in selling another property?" she purred. I pounced. Of course, I was interested. "The home is in your development." She gave me the name of the owner and the address. "It's a messy divorce, so tread carefully. And you'll own me a really hot fuck if you get the listing," she cackled. I checked with the county to see who was on the title. The male owner did not have his wife on the paperwork. Interesting, I thought. A trophy wife with a prenuptial agreement, perhaps?
I called him and told him who I was and that Jennifer had suggested that he might want to retain my services. "Sure," he agreed. "The agent who sold me the place is a shrew, so I won't list it with her. When is a good time for you to come by and give me an idea of what I'll get out of the place?"
"Is there a mortgage on it or any liens?" I asked.
"There's a mortgage with a balance of about $500,000 and no liens," he replied.
"I can get the description of the property from the county assessor's office. Would tomorrow be a good time to drop by? Do you have a particular time that works best for you?" He said that he was available at noon and his wife, soon to be ex-wife, would be at the spa then. "You don't want to cross paths with her."
"I'll see you at noon with an idea of the price. I'll have an appraiser that I know stop by at the same time. We can sign the listing agreement then, if you agree that I should represent you at the price suggested," I offered. He agreed and we hung up.
At home, I lightly supervised Pieter's cooking. He did a masterful job, needing only a few words about temperature and time. His knife skills were far superior to mine as he made the salad. He demonstrated them again when he chopped up the cooked bacon and added it to the salad and the white pasta sauce. He'd made two lemon tarts from phyllo dough and fresh lemons. Everything he made was delicious. I hoped he'd continue cooking for both of us. Tomorrow, I'd teach him the finer points of breakfast preparation.
Over dinner, I told him about another listing that I hoped to sign tomorrow. "The owner is just down the street and in the middle of a messy divorce. I'm thinking she could be a trophy wife with a prenuptial agreement," I said. He asked what that was. It took me a couple of minutes to explain that. "An appraiser will meet me there at noon tomorrow and I hope to sign the paperwork then."
"In this neighborhood, it should get you a nice commission?" he asked.
"That depends on the condition of the home and how big the property is. It's really up to the appraiser to determine how they factor into the final price," I explained. "Generally, the market for homes in that price range is thin, so it may take a few months, even a year, to unload it and get a new owner in there."
I cleaned up the kitchen because he'd done all the cooking and settled in for a little television time with Pieter. We weren't involved in any of what was showing and kept kissing and fondling each other. Obviously, we went to bed early and fucked ourselves silly.
Because we went to bed early, we got up early. In the shower, Pieter joined me. I knew this would lead to more fucking and felching. I was right. In the enclosed space, his pheromones were concentrated and drove both of us to new heights of pleasure. After twenty minutes and two loads each, we left the shower before we turned into prunes. Still dizzy and overwrought with his captivating scent, we tumbled into bed and fucked again.
I gave him instructions on how to fix breakfast, starting with simple fare like scrambled eggs, frozen fruit and yogurt that he made into a smoothie, and English muffins. Of course, Pieter had a couple helpings of everything. "I guess it takes a lot of food to make all those delightful pheromones and jizz," I laughed.
"I'm a big man with a big appetite," he allowed. "Besides, I love your food. What's on my home planet is so bland compared to what you have here. Your world is truly a paradise."
The appraiser met me at my house and we walked to the prospective client's home. He greeted us at the door and walked us through the house, pointing out features that he liked and what his wife liked. He'd bought the house for her because she loved it. And then he started in trashing her reputation and everything else he could think of about her. We tried to listen patiently; but finally, the appraiser walked off and started measuring rooms, outside dimensions, and asking about the age of appliances.
I asked if the home would be sold furnished or unfurnished. "Furnished," he snarled. "I don't want that bitch to have anything that isn't in the prenup! She can walk away with her clothes and jewelry, plus the settlement and that's it!"
"So, when we set the price," I asked trying to change the subject, "how aggressive do you want the pricing to be?"
"I want her and this property out of my hair as quickly as possible. So, give me a reasonable suggestion and some comparables, and we'll go lower," he said. I'd already searched listings in gated communities that would be similar in size and price to his home. It wasn't an estate, but it did sit on a half-acre of grounds. Most of the back yard was taken up by a swimming pool and an outdoor kitchen with seating, but there was no view.
The appraiser put a lot of numbers into an on-line form, checked other similar appraisals he'd done recently and suggested a price of around $12 million. The comparables that I'd checked were in the ball park.
"So, what price would you like to list it for?" I wondered. "Remember to include the value of art work and furnishings."
"Yeah, that's right. So, let's go with the $12 million price and include contents, except her clothing and jewelry," he owner said. "Where do I sign?" I produced the paperwork to list the home with me as the agent/broker and included the appraisers valuation and the property description which I'd found on the county assessor's site.
With the paperwork concluded, we left his house. "Not a happy man," the appraiser said. "That's one of the reasons I'm not married," he added. "And you aren't either, right?" I nodded. "Smart man!" he laughed. "Perhaps, one day, the right lady will come along."
"Doubtful," I countered. "I don't play on that team."
"It's gotta be easier than dealing with women and their drama," he sighed. "I've had a few girlfriends, but they always wanted more than I did. I guess what I've wanted, at least at this age, is a good fuck buddy. I know that's asking more than any self-respecting woman would put up with."
I had to smile, knowing that Jennifer was the perfect match for that. However, she loved really big dicks. Black ones were her favorite. This guy didn't look like he'd stand a chance with her. I left him at the gate to the community. He promised he'd send me an invoice for his services and I promised to pay.
Remembering that I needed to meet the other appraisers for valuing the contents of the estate I just sold, I drove to the estate and let them into the house. They were done in less than an hour. Promising a report the next day, they left for their office to write up the report and check for known works of art by the same artists and on the high-end furniture in the house. They allowed that a valuation of around a million dollars was probable, but it could be higher if some of the art work was more collectible than she thought. The furnishings were in excellent shape and fairly new, so the value of that was close to retail prices he surmised.
Back at my house, I called my office and faxed them the agreement that I'd signed with my new client. I asked my secretary to include it in the next update of the regional real estate guide as well as add it to our company site. She said that she'd make up booklets that featured the home as soon as a photographer friend of hers took some pictures. She's schedule that for me with the agreement of the current owner.
After that, I told Pieter that we'd view the property that I'd just sold on Friday after the current owner moved out, but before the new owners moved in. That would give him another chance to understand the value of money here and why some things were more expensive than others. I gave him more information about the new listing for a house just down the street from us, including how ugly the divorce was. He congratulated me on my success with a blowjob and a deep fuck. I need to have more successes!
"When you were in space, did you watch French people?" I asked.
"Oui," he replied with a smile. At least, I understood that word.
"What part of France?" I pursued. Pieter rattled off something in French that I had no hope of understanding. "Uh, could you say that in English?"
"There were several areas that I watched occasionally. Is there a reason for the question?" he wondered.
"You speak fluent French, too," I observed. He nodded. "And would you be interested in living with me in France for part of the year?"
"Oui, I mean, yes," he beamed. "Why do you ask?"
"The gentleman that I just sold the home for has a home in the southwest corner of France at the edge of a village or town. He wants to sell it. I think I can afford it, but I really need someone with me to make sure that I don't make a fool of myself while there," I replied. "What can you tell me about that area of France that I should know?"
"The food, wine, and culture are very special," he began. "And there is beautiful countryside to bicycle or drive through. You'd never be bored."
"Why didn't you decide to land there instead of here?" I asked.
"I liked you and I thought you might be sexually interested in me. After three years in space with no sex other than sucking myself off while I watched you and Marshawn fuck, I needed someone who enjoyed sex as much as I do. The people I observed in France weren't the physical specimen that you are, nor are they that vigorous about their sexual lives," he grinned, reaching for my dick and giving it a squeeze through my pants. "And I find your diversity here far more appealing than what France offers."
"After the new listing sells, I want to go to France to look at the property to see if it is what I hope it is. I'm sure we can get a good price. But, I don't know any estate agents there, so I'll need your help to find one. It would be better if he or she spoke English, but with you along, I don't think that's a requirement."
He continued stroking my dick through my pants. As I stopped talking, I moaned at the pleasure he was evoking in me. "I think we need to discuss this trip to France in bed," he suggested. I didn't need to be convinced.
With my legs in the air and lube in my ass, Pieter leaned in and kissed me gently. His hard, long dick pressed hungrily against my asshole. As he kissed me, I could sense his pheromones having their way with me. I didn't resist. I wanted this man and I wanted him to breed me all night long. With my hands on his muscular ass globe, I pulled him deeper into me. "This is a congratulations fuck, one of several you'll get tonight and tomorrow," he smiled down at me. "And I expect you to return the favor as frequently."
"With your pheromones and your amazing body working on me, I'm sure I'll find the need to breed you as well," I agreed.
"I do feel a little guilty taking from you all the time," he sighed. "I feel like I need to do more than service you frequently. There should be something I can do to be helpful or contribute to the cost of housing and feeding me."
"What you're doing is all the payment I need," I smiled. "And I make lots of money, so I certainly don't need more of that. Besides, you didn't bring anything with you, other than your amazing body and huge dick. I can't think of anything you could do with either one to be a contributor to the household expenses. Putting you out there as a rent boy is a non-starter, despite how great you'd be at it. They'd be lined up around the block, just to get a good whiff of your pheromones." He grinned at me. "What are you thinking?" I knew from the look on his face that something had occurred to him.
"We could sell patches with my pheromone on them for sexually needy or repressed men and women," he suggested.
"I don't know the first thing about marketing or manufacturing such a thing. Besides," I added, "at some point, the regulators will want to know how we came up with this `essence' to sell."
"It was just an idea," Pieter defended. "But, I think you're probably right. Meanwhile, I think your ass needs some seriously deep seeding."
And he did, four times before we went to sleep. I blew him once and the other four fucks were deep and very satisfying. I tried to keep up with him, but even with the pheromones working me over, I only nutted three times. But, I didn't care. I'm a bottom and I love big dicks breeding my black ass.
In the morning, we were dressed and ready to workout in my home gym when Jennifer called. "Booty call," she sang. "You owe me for that new listing you got. Is now a good time?"
"Give me 30 minutes and I'll be very ready to reward you for your referral," I laughed. After I hung up, I turned to Pieter and said, "Sorry, Jennifer needs some dick. She'll be here in 30 minutes. I need to shower again and remove some of your pheromones. After she leaves, I want to stuff my face in your ass so I can get high on your pheromones again. Meanwhile, I think you should go into the garden while I air out the house. With only 30 minutes available, it may not be enough to dissipate your sexual scents. Remember that last time she was here?" He smiled broadly. "I thought she was going to tear me apart, trying to get my dick in her. Your lingering pheromones totally worked her over."
"Call me when she leaves and I'll give you the best ride of your life," Pieter promised. "And I'll be thinking about riding your ass and nutting inside you the whole time that you're with her. So my pheromones will be particularly strong. You know how I get when I'm anticipating a hot session with you."
I knew and I was looking forward to it. I showered and scrubbed myself. After brushing my teeth, I waited for her in the foyer in my birthday suit and a hard, black dick. She arrived early and I serviced her for the next 20 minutes. She was squealing and carrying-on like a nymphomaniac. Between boning her, eating her out, and nutting inside her twice, she left the house satisfied and exhausted.
I called to Pieter when the door closed behind Jennifer. He grabbed me by the hand and took me into our shared bedroom. He pushed me on to the bed and sat on my face. His pheromones overpowered me. I was delirious with lust. He spun around and sat on my hard dick. Seconds later, my dick erupted a torrent of jizz deep into his welcoming love tunnel. I couldn't stop fucking him. It felt so good. Less than a minute later, I shot another load into him, flooding him again. He didn't pull off and I didn't pull out.
Eventually, my dick slipped out of his ass and he sat on my face again. Once more, I was overwhelmed by this scent and the volume of my cream that leaked from his hole. He turned me around, raised my legs and fucked me senseless. His face was pressed next to mine, so that my pheromone high would continue to roll.
Pieter loaded my ass three times before he finally pulled out and reclined beside me. "Now that was a good time!"
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