None

For about an hour, Amy and I lay out in the sun, turning over after a half-hour to lay face-up. I keep my eyes closed, with my spine arched, quietly savouring the weather. It's a beautiful, late-July day, and we're knee-deep in our summer break.

I'm actually looking forward to returning to Stanford in September, even though I love summer break. I love basically all seasons equally, and don't really have a favourite, but the changes in my life have me vastly more excited for my future.

I watch as Amy sits up, stretches, then stands up and collects her towel. She glances over at me, snapping her fingers and jerking her head calmly. Even as I start to move, the sliding glass door opens, and Dean leans out, against the doorframe.

“Hey, Amy, Emilio and I are about to have lunch. You and your faggot ready for lunch, or ... ?” he asks, and Amy nods with a smile.

“Yea, we were just headed inside. Now seems like a fair time for lunch, before his stomach starts rumbling,” she says, then looks down at her own, “or mine, for that matter. Toss me my clothes?” Dean responds by reaching out of sight, promptly.

“Gladly, I don't need to see my little sister swinging her dick around!” he jokes, and she sticks her tongue out at him as he tosses her clothes to her underhand. I watch as Amy promptly pulls on her boxer-briefs and jean shorts, and her crop top.

“You should buy him revealing clothes,” Dean notes, “So that when he has to be clothed, folks will still know what he is.” Amy hums thoughtfully as I fold my towel, and hers, and hold them both. I can tell she's thinking on how to exhibit me.

“You're right. I'll take him to a tailor, this afternoon,” Amy says, examining me as I stand and wait, “and a tattooist, also. He should have my mark on him, since I have no intention of ever giving him up or selling him, unless he asks me to sell.”

“Never gonna happen,” Dean chuckles, “That boy has been devoted to you since you met. I remember you bringing him back here for patching-up after he took a beating for standing up for you. That slut's never gonna abandon you, Amelia.”

“Fair,” she answers, watching me as I smile and nod to her in reassurance, “Guess that means you're mine for life, faggot. Come on, let's get you fed, my sweet little slut.” I beam and happily trot after her when she goes inside, towels in my arms.

“Set the towels over there and get under the table, slut,” Dean commands, and I nod obediently. Quickly delivering both of the towels where they go, I crouch down and crawl on my hands and knees. I slide underneath the table, and turn to Amy.

Once she's seated, my hands move promptly to her, gently unbuttoning and unzipping, freeing her cock. I turn, quietly, to Emilio, seated diagonally across from her, and scoot to him. He jerks when I touch his legs, scooting back, looking at me.

“What are y- ...” he starts, then stops as he stares for a long moment, then coughs. “Oh. Right. Proceed ... whore.” Emilio blushes awkwardly, then scoots forward again, and I return my hands to him. I unbutton and unzip his shorts, carefully.

I ease them down just enough to free his cock, letting the warm, musky aroma fill my nostrils. He smells nice, though I'm sure his seed will be bitter, since he doesn't produce milk. Still, I lick his cock gently, travelling from his hilt to his crown.

His cock twitches and flexes in answer, fast starting to rise. Above me, he hisses softly, sighing, “Fuck, yes. Just like that.”

“Don't talk to him,” Dean says from the kitchen counter, “When he's under the table, he's nothing but an appliance that exists for our service. He'll kiss your feet to say thank you, lick your feet if your legs are in his way for any reason, at all.”

“Oh. S-Sorry,” he stammers a little, awkwardly, “So, what? Just ... completely ignore the cock slave sucking my cock under the table as we eat lunch?” Both Amy and Dean immediately hum an affirmative sound to him in response to the question.

A moment later, Dean comes over, setting down plates with sandwiches for all three of them. He slides his chair out, and I turn obediently toward him, scooting in front of him. I lift my hands, sliding his shorts and boxers down to free his meat.

It's somewhat of an early lunch, but I don't hesitate to take the opportunity to eat. I know I don't get a say in when food is served, so I wrap my lips around Dean's cock, and slide smoothly down. He doesn't respond, he just lets me eat in silence.

My mouth slides slow, caressing his cock as his meat massages my vagus nerve. His thickness makes my throat swell, and my lips offer a comfortable embrace of his shaft. My eyes focus on his cock, unable to see much else with the table above.

Dean, as always, has a pleasant taste on my tongue, and wonderful warmth. His legs flex a little, under my palms, and he lets them part a little extra, for me. I can feel him rest his feet on my thighs, letting me bob my head easier along his rod.

I appreciate the sweetness of how he uses me, as I service him beneath the table. Above me, I can hear them talking, and Emilio asking about the milk they produce. My cheeks warm a little when Amy affirms that she enjoys drinking my milk.