Written by Studstick (Studstick@mail.com)
Dedicated to Glaucon, Percyx, Perseus, Stimle, BillDrake, sailboyla, kennetv9, and, of course, Luc Milne. Thanks for years of great stories, guys!
Less frequent these days are comically over-written stories that are farces - shameless spoofs that create a non-existent world of pleasure without consequence, filled with heroic cummers without consciences, unapologetically and episodic. This story aims at being such.
It is a work of complete fiction, without reference to any actual occurrences. In real life, no Skippies or Sparkies were harmed in its writing, nor were any Scotts of Brians seduced by younger guys who then manipulated them into doing exactly what they wanted to have happen to them.
If you are offended by obnoxious language and even more obnoxious adult play, please do not read the following story.
Remember: read responsibly. If you are over-served, or oversensitive, close the screen and find your own way home, before you find yourself in trouble. You don't have to swallow anything you don't want to, dude.
If you're fine with all that...enjoy!
Skippy Gobbles Cock Snot
Part 1. In Which Skippy Gobbles It
"Get ready to gobble some cock snot, Skip!
"Goooooood pussy, puss, puss! Come get the cock, pussy!"
Scott ruffled my hair with one hand, thumbed my chin down with the other, then grabbed my head with both hand. He attached my mouth to his dick like he was putting a hose on a vacuum cleaner.
"Oooohhh, yeah, Skippy! Get the meat, baby! Suck for that baby batter! Hot soft and wet is how I like my pussy's mouth. Let me hear the slurping pig boy work...suck it!"
I had finally learned to suck like a Hoover.
Scott's meat was solid as a rock, covered with smooth velvet, and it leaked little tears of sweet sauce down the back of my throat. The odor off his sweaty balls and crotch was like having mushrooms shoved up my nose. Whiffs of hot-man testosterone stoked my brain and reached right down to my own junk, making me hard as steel.
"That's the way, little guy! Suck your daddy and beat your little stick for me. My cock in your mouth makes you hard for my junk juice, doesn't it? You're right where you need to be...knees and ass on the floor while you gobble the goods.
"Now pull the sauce out of your little rocks and squirt it in your hand while you polish my knob."
My arm started to cramp, I was jacking so fast.
It felt like my balls had tied themselves in a knot before my dick jerked and spit out three puddles of goo that pooled in my palm.
Of course I kept slurping and sucking.
"Pull off a second and butter my knob with your boy butter...pussy."
I stared up at his smirking lips as I followed orders.
"Now, just put the knob in your mouth and nurse it like a tit. Daddy's going to feed his little fellow."
Happy to comply I stared into those laser eyes as he watched my lips and mouth work the tip of his pussy stick.
"Oh baby, eat it all up now. Daddy's gonna produce it for you."
Speed sucking the knob...kissing the cap of that perfect pole, I caught the first spurt in my pouched lips then dove all the way down on the stick as it fired over and over in my throat, my Adam's apple dunking frantically to keep up with the gushing cock snot.
It flowed like honey.
Scott sighed and pulled my head half off his dick. `Just relax, little guy. You've got my nut and my dick just like you want it. Just hang there and enjoy yourself.
He leaned back against the kitchen counter and petted my head with one hand as he hummed a little bit. His breath steadied.
"Yep, Skippy. You're home now. Your balls are empty and you've got the perfect dick in your mouth. All is well." He raised his cell and snapped a pic of my exhausted, contented face.
Wow, how did I get here again?
The perfect summer, after graduation, before going off to college.
I get the perfect job, house sitting for my parents' best friends.
The Grimes were older than my folks, but they used to live next door. That was before they moved to the state capital when Mr. G was elected as our state rep. He had coached my dad in high school and my dad went on to become the football coach at the same school. Dad's always been great to me, but I know he was disappointed that I turned out kinda short, just 5'6,''and not up to making his team.
But I'm wiry.
Just in the last couple of months I've been putting on some muscle. I started working out in my dad's weight room a little, and my chest and arms are beginning to look good, especially compared to my narrow waist and the couple of small cantaloupes I've got for a butt.
Anyway, the Grimes lived next door while I was growing up.
They had one son too, about eight years ahead of me. He was so cool. He was the quarterback on my dad's team. Summer. he's bring his weights out to their backyard and work out in the sun. I'd hide behind a bush by the fence and watch, being super quiet so he wouldn't see me. I'd just discovered amateur wrestling videos that showed one guy pinning the other until he yelled "uncle." Sometimes they'd grab balls and squeeze. I'd feel that in my own crotch and later learned to beat off quietly while I watched Scott squeeze his muscles to pump out more reps.
I was just a kid, though. Scott pretty much ignored me, except when I'd see him on the street and say `hi.' He'd mutter something like,"Hi squirt!" and just keep walking. Mom said he became a lawyer after college and was some big shot trial guy, hammering witnesses, strutting in front of judges and juries, winning big cases, one after another. Invincible.
So, back to this summer.
I'm going to college at State and since the Grimes are away for the summer in the South of France(!) I get to house sit for them before starting college in September. Then, in the fall, I get to stay here for free! Just need to keep doing the houseboy stuff in my spare time.
Did I say "house"? It's really a small mansion with tall hedged fences, security gate, and a visiting staff? Those people have the week off while I settle in but they'll be in and out starting next week. For me, there's not really much to do except look at their giant wall to wall TV, water their plants and keep their pool looking good. There are home-made meals in the freezer, and most anything I can think of in the pantry -- even beer! I'm LOVIN IT!
The pool's got a side pool with a stream for doing laps, you know, like a treadmill, but it's water...and a hot tub pool right beside it. There's a little private woods in the back that's got kid playground stuff from when Scott was a kid, a gym in the basement and... everything! The bathrooms even have those bidet things and a bunch of hoses with things to wash and do anything you can imagine...I think.
I can't quite figure it out yet.
It's all super cool as. my folks never put much away and it's all they can do to keep me in food and book money next year. If I don't keep my scholarship, I'm sunk.
The second weekend, I heard something at the back door in the middle of the afternoon. I zipped downstairs, opened the door, and there was some guy sticking a key in the lock. He looked like those covers of men's health magazines, all rough good looks, kinda tall with perfect proportions and a body that looked like it was constructed from softballs - one smooth mound of muscle connecting to the next, all covered with smooth skin that looked like hard vanilla ice cream. Plenty of black floppy curls on top and kind of a jarhead cut. Like a Marine or something.
Oh yeah -- pitch black eyes that seemed to grin at you all by themselves. Eyes - like God's telling you to come give him a kiss.
"Uh, little dude! I forgot mom and dad had somebody staying at the house. I'm their son, Scott.
"I remember you! I'm Skipper. You used to live next door when I was a kid."
"Scott looked confused for a couple of seconds, then it came together for him.'
"Skipper!...Yeah, I kind of remember. How are you? Everything okay here at the place?
"Fine so far. I heard you had moved to Chicago."
"That's right. My wife's from there, so we decided to raise the kids near her parents."
"So you got a couple of kids?"
"Yeah...three so far. I seem to do a good job in that department. I want to pick up some of my old shit that I've kept stored here -- some of my weights, books, stuff like that ...and store some things from Chicago here. Maybe you could give me a hand humping things in and out. Like I said, I'd forgotten mom said you were staying here and I planned to sack out here a couple of days. I've decided to open a part time law office here to, so I'll be going back and forth to Chicago all summer. making sure things are just the way I want them."
He seemed to be looking into my brain while he said it, then he winked. `How about lending your body to the cause, Skip?"
"Glad to," I stammered, suddenly nervous as hell for some reason. "Let me help bring your stuff in."
Scott had on shorts and a tee shirt with the sleeves ripped off. His bare feet arched over flip-flops that looked to be about a size 12. Hmmm. I'd sneaked enough porn stories on the internet to know what people say about men with big feet. Couldn't help but wonder.
As we brushed past each other carrying box after box, I could smell him. Something kinda like bread dough along with a sharp flash of sweet sweat. When he paused and stretched, there was a whiff of something more -- earthy and rich.
After we finished, picking up a couple of suitcases, I asked him where we should put them and if I should move my stuff out of the big main bedroom.
"Don't sweat it, Skip. I lay on anything. He was like he was `staring into my brain again.'
I think I'll grab a quick shower and change."
My mouth dropped open as he stood in the middle of the living room and stripped off. Shirt flying over his head, flip flops hitting the wall, shorts slipping down bending hips. After snapping the waist of the jock that remained, he hooked it off and tossed it with the rest. A perfect dick hung long over two low hanging, heavy balls. He scratched his chest, then behind his balls, looking me in the eyes the whole time. The corner of his mouth twitched a bit.
"Skippy, toss those in the wash for me will you? I want them clean for a workout tomorrow.' He turned and walked to the bathroom, his ass a pumped muscle machine.
I stared after him, my dick hardening in my own shorts. This was way too good to be true. My teenage jack-off dream, naked under the same roof with me.
His damp clothes!
I zipped over and snatched them up, wet cloth molding into my hands. Without thinking, I brought them to my face and just breathed in.
Ooooommmyyyyyygggod! The smell was so fucking good! My dick started a little pulsing dance, my balls snuggling up to keep it company,
His jock strap was caught in my fingers as I walked toward the laundry. Pausing, I held the pouch to my nose, moved to that cris-cross start that must have tickled his hole, and about passed out with heat.
"Skippy, do you know where..." Scott walked back into the room, one hand behind his head, the other scratching lazily at the exposed arm pit.
I froze as he stopped and watched me, his jock still shoved on my nose.
"Yeah, Skippy...maybe you can help me here with something."
Rising like a snake hunting for prey, his cock stuck out from his crotch, pulsing, pointing right at me.
"See Skip, I've got a problem. My dick is hard and there's no mouth sucking it. Think you can do something?" He beckoned with a finger, then pointed to the thing.
Taking two steps forward in less than a second, I dropped to my knees. He walked up to me like I was a urinal.
"Open.
"Suck my finger first. That's it little guy. Get it wet. Let me feel your pink little tongue. Soooo wet, so warm. Yeah, lick the finger little guy. Go for it. Make that finger happy!"
I closed my eyes and his finger in my mouth became my world. He rubbed all around, my gums, under my tongue, out and around my lips, then back into my hot hole again.
"Open your eyes, little man. Look at me while you work. Good boy! Feel how good that finger is? Just look at my cock and think how good that is that going to feel, little babe?
"Now open up and come home to the dick, baby."
I was all over it. Sucking and licking like I was going for my last meal, ever. After a minute, he pulled me off, and held my cheeks in his amazing hands. Gazing down, he slapped first one side of my face, then the other. He thumbed my lips, then pried open my jaw.
"Does your mouth need a dick in it, Skippy? Do you need to suck me off so you can feel good, baby? Yeah, I know you do. You really need it really bad, don't you, sweetheart? Come suck the dick, Skippy!"
Boy did I! I'd never sucked dick before, but I'd sure as hell watched it done on my computer! I'd even stuck a banana down my throat once, a zucchini another time. I'd filled a turkey baster with condensed milk and squirted shots down my throat as while I sucked the tube. Man, this was so much better.
I held his balls in the fingers of both hands, working them slowly...making his junk my god of the moment.
"Fuuuuuuuccccccckkkk, rrrrrhhhhghhhhhh, annnnnhhhhn..." Scott shot his juice on my greedy tongue, then leaned in to jet the some hits right down my throat, while he grabbed my head and his gut turned to rock.
"Oh man! Suck it down, baby! You're like a little pig on a slop hose. Go for it, babe!" You know we'll be doing this a lot, since you need it so bad," he pulled his meat out of my head.
"When you wash my stuff, better do yours too, looks like you splooged in your pants, little dude.
"Bet your dick's really wet, huh?
Yeah, now I remember. That's how I got here.