I pull out of his grip and cough. I spit his spunk onto the carrier bag on the floor. I swallowed some I know I did! I can taste his spunk in my mouth... and I can see it pooled on the bag. Salty like mine, but not as unpleasant as I thought it would be, considering where it has come from, my creepy uncle that is! I look up at him from the floor. He is still panting, but he has recovered some of his composure. I stagger to my feet, and stare at the tits in the box. I'm almost afraid to grab them. Mike then said, “I put up the message on the third night in Chicago , and I hadn’t gotten any calls in response to it yet. I was excited when you called because I thought that I might have a chance to get my cock sucked. I don’t like to jack myself off, and prefer to fuck a pussy or get a blow job.” I found myself getting a hard on and more than just a little excited listening to Mike’s candid description of his sexual needs, and I thought that it was very courageous of him to tell me. More

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