His arms would flail and his head would rock from side to side as he affected some half-British, half-midwest accent that always cracked everybody up....I think he always did this half for attention, half because he loved poetry and half because he enjoyed cracking us all up. The attention and cracking us up part are pretty much the same thing, I guess."Lo, tis a gala nightwithin the lonesome latter years!An angel throng, bewinged, bedight in veils, and drowned in tears,sit in a theater to seea. My tongue came out of my mouth and I licked the shirt.The dried cum didn’t have much flavor but the idea of it sparked erotic sensations in my brain that I had never dreamed existed. I kissed the shirt. No, that’s not true. Not the shirt. I kissed the dried cum. I licked the dried cum. And at that moment, to my surprise, I came in my pants.I had never shot a load in my pants before in my life. It was a shock that I could even do it, much less just by tasting my stepson’s dried spunk. It was an. More

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