Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
It was a great little summer rental. I had one of two small apartments in an old beach house, at the back, with a tiny bathroom, a tiny bedroom, and a tiny kitchenette, all shiplap, uninsulated windows, and the unmistakable smell of “old person’s cottage.” Mismatched utensils, mismatched towels. My job allowed me to work remotely, and I was tired of looking at the same four walls in Chicago, so why not rough it for a while? On the beach?
I had West-facing windows looking out onto a backyard of white Florida sand, man-made dunes on either side positioned for privacy (although there was plenty of space between my location and neighbors), a small trail through tall grasses that lead out to a private beach, and at this time of the year (summer) the sun looked like it was dunked into the Gulf of Mexico every evening to keep its blue waters warm overnight.
The beach house’s one common area was the laundry room: two old washers, two old dryers. Access was with a key that was strung to a kitschy key chain that had “Florida” painted on it, sitting on the kitchen counter when I arrived.
One week into my stay, an early Tuesday morning, I took this key with me so I could do some laundry, the surf quiet, the beach empty, the sun just tipping the palm trees at the front of the house in orange highlights. I put a load in and sat at the top of the two steps leading to the room, scrolling through the first batch of the day’s emails on my phone while the machines clanged their work.
From the trail out to the beach came a young man, late 20s. He was shorter than me, crafted like a swimmer, his bright white skin tight over the kind of taut, angled musculature you get in a twenty-something: an exquisite piece of lanky, hairless androgyny. His blonde hair was long and slicked back, his face feminine, warm. He wore sandals and a blue speedo that seemed two sizes too small, displaying what seemed to be a curt little package between his thighs.
“Hello,” he said, breezily.
“Morning,” I said, looking up from my phone.
“Sure is. You get out into the water already?”
“Oh, no,” he said. “Too early yet. Just out for a morning stroll. I’m Gabriel.”
I shook his hand, introduced myself.
“You’re in the back place?” he asked, nodding back towards my apartment.
I nodded. “You in the front place?”
We parted ways with the regular platitudes, and I watched his tiny little backside and angled shoulders as he headed around to the front apartment: he had a cute tush, and as he turned the corner towards the front door to his apartment, glanced back and smiled.
The next morning, I woke up to my usual routine: coffee and whatever emails I’d received from our foreign accounts overnight.
I mindlessly pressed my finger on the coffee-maker, and stepped to the windows, throwing them open to let in the first light of morning. I stretched with a yawn, squinting at the brightness, and then saw Gabriel, again coming from an early morning beach stroll, standing there staring at me.
And I was in the window, naked.
I stepped to a more modest position and waved back. Gabriel gave a wry smile as he stood there, looking me right in the eye, and then nodded and kept walking towards the front.
I put on shorts.
An hour later, I was sitting outside, clacking away at my laptop as he walked back to the beach: same tight, blue speedos, same sandals, shirtless, pale and lean.
“Another stroll?” I said.
“Yeah, unless you have another show for me,” he said, holding his hands behind his back.
I laughed and wagged my finger at him. He shrugged with a pouty look on his face, and went out to the beach with a quick wave.
I was hard. Hard for this thin young man, hard for that wry smile, hard for his little dick. I let my mind wander into his bed for a moment, but shook my head out of it. “Work,” I thought. “Work.”
A few days later. The sun had just sunk below the horizon. I had just closed my laptop from a day of emails, and put my feet up, stretched. Then, a knock at my door.
“Do you have Escort İstanbul a key for the laundry room? I can’t find mine.”
Not a problem.
He stood in the doorway.
“So what brings you to Florida?” He asked. “Business? Pleasure?”
I let him know the details, leaning against the door frame, and he shared that he was staying here because his uncle owned the house; since it was summer, it was the off season. He had the month to swim, read, and lay on the beach. Nice chatter. The boy had a nice ease about him, a little beyond his years, or maybe it was just that he acted that way.
“Well, I guess I should get to my laundry,” he said.
“An unfortunate obligation we all have to face.”
“There’s always something that’s not clean when you do your laundry,” he said, and pointed to his speedos.
“Well, you could always put that in and just hope no one else uses the laundry room while you stand around naked,” I said.
There was a slight pause. He bit his lower lip.
“I suppose so,” he said, wry smile. “But sitting in the laundry room alone and naked doesn’t sound like much fun.”
“Well, it is a great night for a swim,” I said, positioning myself so I could try and hide my incoming erection.
He looked back at the ocean, put his hands on his hips, looked back at me, gave a nod. “I guess. See you.”
I went back to my kitchen with a smile on my face and a hard-on in my pants. I gave a few rubs thinking about his slim, svelte body, and began rummaging through the fridge for dinner supplies when there was another knock.
My heart lept. I stood there, for a moment. It couldn’t be.
Standing outside, in the last remnants of dusk, was Gabriel, hands on his hips, naked in the sand.
“It is a great night for a swim. Wanna join me?”
“A swim?” I looked him up and down. “Or a skinny dip?”
He put his hands behind him, held them together, and twisted at the waist. “Whatever you want, daddy.”
Oh Jesus Christ.
Let’s talk about his bold young thing’s pecker, which was ramrod straight, and was about as big as my index finger. Which is, unfortunately, my weak spot. A small, hard dick. His lithe, androgynous body had barely any fat on him, and it looked as if he had been swimming all summer to craft a legitimate femboy body that gave my semi the final push it needed into full bore sexual instrument.
“How long until we need to put the clothes in the dryer?” I asked. I stepped outside. I stood a foot taller than him, and put my hands on my own hips, my cock pushing against my shorts towards him. He reached out for my waistline and I slapped him away, making him squeak. “Bad boy. Daddy asked you a question.”
He bit his lower lip, his dick twitched, he smiled. “Half hour? Maybe?”
I looked out to the beach. “Okay,” I said, and I took off my shirt, tossed it on the steps at the door, then I took his hand, small and soft, and walked with him out to the water. The sand was still warm, the seagulls looking for some late-night fixings, a few Pelicans still diving out there.
“Beautiful evening,” I said.
“Yeah,” he said, unhooking his hand from mine to curl his arms around mine, putting his head against my shoulder as we walked. The clouds had just lost their pinkness, and looking down, I saw his little dick bobbing with every step across the sand.
We arrived at the waterfront, a slow ebb and flow of the Gulf coming to our ankles. He unwrapped himself from my arm, took a deep breath of the air, turned and smiled, then started in for the water. “It’s not skinny dipping if you have clothes on.” And he started to wade out.
I took off my shorts, my cock hard and happy to meet the open air. Gabriel stood biting his lower lip again, and nodded. “You’ve got such a nice cock, daddy.”
I stepped out into the water and took his hand again, walking him into the warm gulf water. I looked around. Tiny specks of people that way, tiny specks of people the other. Once we had gotten waist deep, I turned to him, so small, so eager. I put my hands on the sides of his face, fully aware that my cock was already İstanbul Escort Bayan bumping against his under the waterline, and I pulled him in for a kiss, delicate and soft. He put his hands over mine, and I gave him more kisses along his white neck and cheek, then I let go of him and went into the water, took a few breaststrokes out, emerged from the water, spat out the salty water. He followed me, and soon enough we were treading water, his moving to me, trying to kiss me.
“You’re so fucking hot, daddy,” he said, kissing me with much vigor. His bright green eyes reflected the last remnants of daylight. He put his own hands to my face, then said quietly into my ear “Let me be your little fucktoy bitch.”
This fucking kid. I shoved him off me with a smile and swam away, and he came after me.
We would swim for a bit, then kiss, he would make a grab for my dick, I’d slap it away. We would swim, then kiss. We came back in so we could stand while waves slapped at our shoulders. We kissed, and under the water line I grabbed a hold of his prick.
“You want to be daddy’s little fucktoy?” I asked.
He moaned, “Yes, please. Anything. I’ll do anything.” I let go, and I stepped back to the shore. I looked behind me, and he was following like an obedient, greedy little one, so I turned and waited for him to catch up to me, the two of us a little breathless from our working against the water. I took his face again into my hands and kissed him, a little more fervently now, and I pulled him far enough out of the water where it wouldn’t bother us if I lay him down in the sand, which I did. The night was warm.
“Fuck me, daddy,” he said.
“Not yet,” I said, kneeling down beside him. I was old enough to know fucking in the sand is fun for the first 2 seconds before you wish you hadn’t for the next week, brushing sand from everywhere.
He propped himself up on his elbows, looked in my eyes. “I’m so lucky you have the back apartment. I’ve been so hard for you ever since I saw you in the window. I want you to fuck my little boy pussy. Let me be your little fucktoy bitch, daddy.”
I eased him back down onto the sand.
“First,” I said, “Daddy’s gonna suck your cock.”
He squealed, a feminine affirmation.
I learned over his tiny little hard prick. It was a gorgeous, text-book example of a dick, just miniature, red against his white skin. I used my tongue to flick at its tip, and the boy let out whimpers, his hands lightly running through my hair. “Oh yes daddy, god daddy suck me off. Suck my cock. Suck your fucktoy bitch’s cock.”
I positioned myself between his legs, and took the whole thing in my mouth, I closed my tongue around it, extended my tongue along its entire length, salty from the gulf, salty from his precum. I strained my own hard-on, thinking how magnificent this little cock was, this young man’s body was, the warm air.
I worked his shaft, adding a lot more spit and giving a little extra on the slurping noises, up and down, up and down, I would grab the base of it between my finger and thumb and lick it like a lollipop. “You like daddy’s blowjob?”
“God fucking yes goddammit, daddy. Please suck my cock please please fucking god dammit OH FUCK.”
Up and down, I worked his little shaft, sucking on it with greater fervency.
I stopped and kneeled down in the sand, and then hiked him up on my thighs, leaning over and replacing my mouth on his cock. Then I gave a finger some spit, and ran it between his butt cheeks, rubbing his little asshole, which sent him in a fit of whimpers and femboy moans. “Fuck fuck fuck finger my little asshole daddy oh god yes.”
It wasn’t much longer that he breathlessly strung some huffs and “I’m going to cum” together, so I pulled him up off the sand, stood him up, and kneeled under his little dick.
“Cum on daddy’s face,” I commanded. “Come on. Paint your daddy’s face with cum.” I sucked and sucked, I massaged his little balls, and soon enough he herked and jerked and took his shot: there was more cum than I thought could come out of such a petite instrument. I used his cock to wipe Anadolu Yakası Escort it all across my face, looking him in the eyes, watching him pant through his ejaculation, and then he leaned over and licked it all off my face. I kissed his retreating dick, put the whole thing (balls included) in my mouth and sucked on them like they were candies. Kissed his salty thighs, kissed his salty torso, raised myself up in kissing increments, and then stood over him, still panting. We kissed.
“Time to put your clothes in the dryer,” I said.
I scooped him up into my arms and carried him to the laundry room. Put him down, opened the door, and I instructed him to finish his laundry chore, all the while leaning against the door frame looking in, watching his lean, graceful body in motion.
I was still hard. When he had pushed the button to start up the tumbling of the dryer, he did so by striking a feminine pose, sticking his little butt out, and looking back at me over his shoulder with a submissive pout. I couldn’t help myself: I stepped in and grabbed him, my cock flexing at his little squeal of surprise.
“Now Daddy’s gonna use his little fucktoy,” I said, standing over him. “Is that what you want?” I waited for him to bite his lower lip, and with that wry little smile, consent:
“Fuck me, Daddy,” and before he finished the sentence I spun him around and bent him over the dryer. He accentuated his movements with femboy moans. I parted his ass and found his little pink hole, flawless. I stepped to him, my cock banging back and forth against his inner thighs.
“You want my cock?” I whispered in his ear, bending over behind him. “You want daddy’s cock?”
“Fuuuuck yes,” he said, shaking his ass at me. I ran some spit along one of my fingers and played with his hole, which sent him reeling. I fingered him, made him ready. Spit into my hand, rubbed my cock’s head, and then pushed at Gabriel’s little hole. Slowly, slowly, I pushed it in, and he held his breath during the insertion, then started gasping when I spat and spat and then stuck it in him. Plugged him full.
I started fucking him. Ramming him. I watched my cock slip in and out of that magnificent little ass, listening to him moan out chopped up words and consonants. His language got filthier the more I stuffed him, he lay his chest down on the top of the dryer and used his hands to pull his ass apart more, and I kept hitting it. More spit. More force. More spit. Fucking his hole while his grunts really turned me up, I saw his little red dick getting hard again, precum slipping out, a spider’s thread to the floor. I fucked him and fucked him and the dryer was banging against the back wall and then I started to feel that sensitivity in my cock, that little fire that I latch on to, I just rammed him and rammed him and mentally held on to that feeling, closing in on my climax, thrusting at him until we weren’t using words but huffs and fucks and the slapping of thighs and the smell of sweat and salt from the Gulf and then I pulled out and spun him around and he dropped right to his knees heaving breaths and telling me: “…cum on my fucktoy little face give me your cum all over my faggot body…” and I shot my load all over him, first strike across his face, second and third shot on his chest, he smeared it all over with his hands, then a fourth shot strung again along his face, and he wiped it all over his cheeks and chin with my cock, then pulled my tip into his mouth and just sucked and then “Yes daddy” and then sucked and then “I’m your little fucking cum slut” and then licked and licked and then “your cum tastes so good daddy” and then we were kissing, laying on the floor of this laundry room, his little femboy body on top of mine, as we kissed and kissed, waiting for the dryer to finish.
We came down from our high, our breathing regulated, my cum getting sticky between us, and we lay there, wrapped in each other, me stroking his hair, trailing my hand down his backside until the dryer dinged its finish.
“Just in time,” he said. We kissed delicately. “Thank you, daddy.”
I stood up, made my way to the door.
“We need to have dinner,” I said. He squealed and sat up. “But first, we better wash up. Get your clothes and go put them away, and come over.” I turned to him. “I need to wash my new little fucktoy.”
And I smiled as I watched his little butt cheeks jiggle as he hurried home.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32