He put the palm of his hand right up against my forehead and pushed, hard. My mouth slid off his wet dick with a ‘pop’; I slid back on my haunches with a whine. I didn’t know why we were stopping, so I just stared up at him, pawing at myself like the desperate fuck I was.
His eyes darted off to the side—I knew what he was looking at, and I knew what he was thinking.
"No way," I said preemptively.
"Put it on," he said.
"But I’m not really into…" I trailed off; he was stroking his cock right above me, giving me a look that made it clear that "no" wasn’t an acceptable answer.
"Put it on," he said again.
"Please," I said, as if that’d be what convinced him. He just smirked and flicked his cock in his hand; a trail of precum hit my face.
Two minutes later he had me back on my knees, but this time situated so I could see myself in the mirror, see what I was wearing. My face was red—from flushing, from blushing?—but my dick was hard as ever.
His, as he pushed it in and out of my mouth, as he looked from my face to the mirror and back, was harder than ever.
Hey Buddy, don’t get mad. But when you asked me if I minded taking your son home after his big soccer tournament, how was I to know the boy would win? I just couldn’t leave him alone all weekend in your house without giving him something to commemorate his success. I made this video for you to play when you have some alone time on your business trip. I think you’ll agree with me, Junior’s got some real raw and natural athletic ability. Maybe next tournament, you and me can tag his ass??