Holstered

I keep my eyes focused on Norbert's, as he stares into my eyes while I worship his cock. When the first pulse makes his rod tense, his fingers curl in my hair. He pulls firmly, dragging my head up as his hips roll to slide his cock toward my mouth.

In one smooth, steady motion, he draws me up and guides me down, pulling my hair until my lips reach his hilt. Norbert's fingers flex, stretching and splaying across the back of my head. His hips jerk and he pushes, and his balls slip past my lips.

“You've earned the privilege of drinking my milk, faggot, and sucking my balls as I give it to you,” Norbert tells me. I start caressing his nuts with my tongue immediately, swallowing around his cock as he buries even the hilt in my upper throat.

I moan as the first jet of his cum pumps into the bottom of my throat, and swallow hard around him. Norbert growls, low, with arousal and approval in equal measure, as I let him feed me his cream, still in a state of mindless servitude to his rod.

I hold my breath, his cock amply thick to block my airways, and I take it, as dense cream pumps into my throat. I swallow, every time he pulses, and in-between every pulse, stroking him with the muscles of my throat as I kneel before my friend.

For almost two minutes, I simply hold that position, breathless and silent. When the pulsing stops, Norbert pulls his hips back, but not too fast. He slides from my mouth like drawing a sword from a sheath, his dark cock emerging from my lips.

“That's a good faggot,” he says in a contented voice, “So nice having a slut who knows what he is, and where he belongs.” He looks down at me, sighing softly as he dries his cock off using my hair as his rag. Then he tucks his meat away, neatly.

Author's Note:
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Here the story converges with Norbert waking me up in Chapter 9: Gently.