A facial before breakfast

After a few more minutes of wild, relentless thrusting, you're approaching your limit. Pulling out of Michael's fat ass, you clamber up the length of the bed until you're straddling his head.

"Wha--AH!" your friend gasps as you grab a handful of his platinum-blonde hair and pull until his face is up against your rock-hard member. You stroke it once, then twice, then before Mike can react you're unloading. The first couple spurts fly up into his hair, but after that you adjust your aim so that you're pumping jizz onto his picture-perfect bimbo face.

Once you're done coating him with your thick, white load, you take a quick plunge between his lips to clean your swollen head, and then flip him all the way over to wipe yourself off on his cleavage. With that, you jump off of him and head towards the door, leaving him a squirming wet mess on the bed. Your attention has left him almost as hard as his father was, and as you watch he closes his eyes and lazily strokes himself a few times, almost as if it were subconscious.

"Hey, time to get up buddy," you say, grabbing your bathrobe from a hook on the wall and throwing it on. "No cleaning up today. Put on that sling bikini I like and come on down for breakfast."

Mike groans something incomprehensible, then hauls his tired, well-fucked body upright. You head down the stairs with him close behind.