Well, me; obviously!

I came, I saw, I sucked. Julius Caesar would have been proud of the way I conquered my nerves to give valiant service to the very first client availing himself of what I had to offer. Especially since it didn't go exactly as expected. For starters, what I was required to suck on was a middle-aged, short, fat penis that remained flaccid through out my head nodding ministrations. I mean, considering the strain all that nodding was putting on my neck, you'd have thought this guy's cock would have made a bit more of an effort wouldn't you! It was like sucking a giant, soft, warm slug, but it had one thing going for it, it was an extremely clean slug. Not a hint of slime or sweat to be savoured.

The fact that the man attached to this impotent prick was older than my dad didn't bother me in the slightest. Once I'd succumbed to the giddy intoxicating affect that slurping sperm from a man had on me, the age of it's supplier ceased to be an issue. I was of course aware that younger males would produce more of this magic elixir. After all, my Brian seemed to be simply full of spunk. If he didn’t off-load it into me at regular intervals, he leaked! I should know: I do the laundry. However, I figured that older men would produce more mature sperm, like older barrels produce a more mature tasting wine. It was a theory I was keen to test and here was my first opportunity.

In truth, I think I was in and out of there in about ten minutes flat and to be honest, I was rather glad about that. There was something rather creepy about this older-than-dad man dressed in an ill fitting cardigan who kept telling me what a sweet and sexy little mouth I had. He was like a seedy big bad wolf trying to sweet-talk little Red Riding Hood into becoming his dinner, which had me thanking God he hadn't wanted to take me upstairs. As it was, he was content to have me kneel on a cushion in front of him as he stood in the middle of his lounge. He rather timidly asked me to unzip his flies and get his cock out for him. I guess the feel of a young and, though I say it myself, pretty girl's fingers on him would be something he'd be into. Anyway, I was just delving onto his baggy Y-fronts when a little grey haired woman hustled in through one door and out of another saying "don't mind me dear, you carry on" as she passed by. As an afterthought, she called from the other room, "don't be too long Johnny, your supper's nearly ready," to which he replied, "yes mum."

Johnny wasn't long. He was about three inches, which I could accommodate in my gob quite comfortably. I sucked and squished him around a bit with my tongue, he gave a long heartfelt sigh, gave a little shudder and my mouth filled with a pungent and glutinous gel that coated and stuck to everything. It tasted deliciously spermy and I savoured every drop of it as I swished it around before swallowing.

'Hm! A bit thicker than Brian's cum' I thought, which was precisely the type of information I felt I should be logging in my notebook. Anyway, duty done, I got up off my knees to find Johnny with his wallet in his hands. He fished around inside it and produced a twenty pound note which he gave me, despite me not requesting any payment at all. I accepted it of course, it would have been rude not to. I gave him my sweetest smile as a receipt. In response, he stuck out his right hand and fondled my left breast through my clothing. The shock of this impertinence stunned me into silence. I wasn't hurt as such, just grievously surprised. "This isn’t part of the deal" I told him, so he slipped me an extra five pounds. Not knowing the going rate for either blowjobs or copping a feel, I didn’t know whether to be delighted or insulted by this turn of events.

The grey haired lady's head popped around the door. "Tell your cock sucking friend good night Johnny. Your supper's on the table" it said and promptly popped back behind the door.

So that was it. I was shown to the front door, had my bottom squeezed and given another ten pounds for my trouble; my trouble being this middle-aged mummy's boy who was squeezing my bum. As I walked away from the house, I glanced back and saw Johnny still stood in the doorway with a rather wistful look on his face - and his flaccid cock still peeking cheekily out from his trousers.