Where else? Your mouth!

He grips the sides of your head tighter, holding you firmly as his hips rock back and forth. The forest of pubes tickle your nose and his balls mash themselves against your chin, peeling back every time. He jams himself against the depths of your throat and holds it there for a second, deciding in his drunken stupor what he'd do next.

He pulls himself back until just the head rests on your tongue, and he grips the shaft. He strokes it with the spit-lube you so graciously allowed him, and groaned. With a twitch, you felt the torrent coming.

The yellowing, sticky thick load began coating your tongue. Shots made it from the tip to the back of your throat, coating everywhere in between. The stringy, chunky spunk was foul, smelled like chlorine, and tasted like battery acid. The semen of a dehydrated long time drinker, and god it made you gag.

His cock pulled back, still dripping with the spent load, but he tugged up his jeans and shuffled away as quick as possible, leaving you with a choice..