My Mouth

For twenty minutes, Rickie rides my mouth slow and smooth, flexing the muscles in his arms and legs as he does. I moan on it, servicing his cock with my mouth. When I feel the first pulse, I blink up at him, but he doesn't stop riding my mouth.

He edges himself, a bit, alternating shifts in pace and depth, anything to stave off release. For another ten minutes, Rickie holds himself at the brink, before he can't anymore. He freezes abruptly with only the crown in my mouth, and he groans.

“That's it, you stupid little fag!” Rickie growls softly under his breath, looking down at me, when the first thick rope of his cum pumps into my mouth. Two more soak my tongue before I swallow, and twice more, stuffing a good amount into me.

“Fuck, yes,” he groans in satisfaction, pushing himself to the hilt again, “Swallow, faggot.” I swallow obediently, moaning happily as he slides himself back again, using my throat to fully drain his balls once he's done feeding me most of his load.

“So glad I know what you are, now,” Rickie says as he pulls out slow, then uses my hair to dry his cock. I lift my hands and gently tuck him back into his underclothes, zipping him up cautiously before working my fingers to re-secure his buttons.

“Has he always been this well-trained?” Rickie asks, looking down at me as his arousal abates and he realises how much he degraded me, and how much he enjoyed it. Mom shakes her head in response.

“No, his best friend is a hypnotist. He volunteered to be her certification thesis,” Mom replies, “This is only temporary, for about the next week or so. She just needed him to volunteer for a study she wants to do. Part of her certification thesis.”

“Oh,” Rickie hums, nodding, “Right. Well, thank you for allowing me to use him while he's in this hypnotised state, then, Misses Grennan. It was a hell of a pleasure. Didn't realise how much I needed this. You've given me a really special gift.”

“You're welcome,” Mom replies, “Are you friends with our faggot?” Rickie shakes his head.

“Never spoken to him before tonight, but I've seen him at university,” he replies, “We're in the same English class, but rows and columns apart. Always wanted to talk to him. Would've been easier if I'd known he's just a fucking faggot.”

“I'll bet!” Mom grins, as Rickie steps back and waves, “Have a good night, anyway, and thanks for paying for our food.” Rickie grins and waves again, then darts back to his car to return to work, though it's probably his last delivery, today.

Once Mom shuts the door, she jerks her head toward the kitchen, and I know what awaits me.

Author's Note:
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Here the story converges in Chapter 23: Family Dinner.