When the wife does it it’s just perfunctory, you know? She does it out of some sense of duty. It’s obvious she doesn’t really enjoy it - and this reflects in her technique. She’s never given good head, not once in twenty years.
But when my boy does it? Well, what can I say? That kid worships my cock. He takes to it like it’s the fountain of eternal youth or something. He gazes up at his Dad with an adoring, grateful expression on his little face, his puppy dog eyes thanking me for being so generous. And that massive, messy load of mine that the missus always backed away from, grimaced at? The boy gobbles it up like it’s the nectar of the gods!
And when the wife’s away, well, our home life is great. I just walk around the house naked from the waist down. And any time the boy passes me - the hall, on the stairs, whatever - he just falls to his knees and starts working my dick. He can’t get enough of the thing! And every time I spray his beautiful little face with my batter he gives me that same smile he used to give when opening presents at Christmas - he just can’t believe his luck!
There was one Saturday in particular; the wife was out all day, first at the hair salon - which in itself took four hours - and then on to lunch with her sister, then grocery shopping. She kissed me at the door at 9.30am, saying, “there’s some sausages in the fridge and plenty of bread, or you could just go down to the deli and get a sandwich there. I’ll be home around four”, and was gone.
I lost my trousers the moment the door closed behind her. The boy appeared on the stairs at that very moment as if he’d been waiting (who am I kidding? Of course he’d been waiting!) and commenced that expert working of my dick right there.
When I spreayed his face that first time my load was full and thick, and the cumropes (the ones he didn’t swallow, that is) clung to his face like tinsel over a Christmas tree. As he was about to scoop them up with my dick and lick it clean (as was his usual method) I stopped him and said, “hey son, why don’t you leave it there today, huh? We have all day alone. I wanna see it there, drying on your face while you lounge around the house. And I’ll freshen it up for you ever few hours, how does that sound?” The kid grinned up at me and just said, “sure thing Dad”.
I decorated the kid’s face with six loads that day. Of couse, by the sixth my cum was thin and watery, but it sufficed to rehydrate the older, thicker loads that still clung there. By 3pm his face was so messed with my cream he looked like something out of a horror film. Though, frankly, it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. “Go and look in the mirror son,” I told him, escorting him to the hallway mirror. He smiled at his own reflection, his features warped by the generous wads of cum that I’d deposited there.
“You know, if your mother wasn’t due home shortly we could carry this on into tomorrow - hell, even into Monday. It’s such a shame to wash it off son, don’t you think? There’s something so profoundly beautiful about a boy’s face, heavily branded by his father’s seed. Why don’t we at least take some pictures, huh?”
The boy got so excited at the idea of collecting 72 hours worth of his Dad’s cum that he immediately began offering ideas. “We could go on a camping trip, couldn’t we Dad? That was we’d have days together.”
“Fantastic idea son!” I replied, a hand in his hair. “Ok, there’s your mother’s car in the driveway. Let’s get you to the bathroom.”
He leaned up to kiss me and I wrapped my wide mouth around his lips, kissing him deeply, sucking at his tongue and drawing it in, tasting my day’s-worth of sperm. Yeah, a camping trip was a great idea.