Family Ties

She grasped the waistband of my boxers and pulled them down. My cock sprang up and bounced gently in front of her. She lowered my shorts and I stepped out of them, but she never took her eyes off my hard-on. She wrapped her small hand around my girth and squeezed gently. Then she stroked a couple of times and simply watched the skin move over the shaft.

“You like?”

“Very much.” She looked up and met my eyes. “You remember that thing about your favorite breasts?”

“Of course.”

“Well, that’s how I feel about your penis.”

“Oh?”

“Mmm hmm. The only thing I care about is, ‘Can I touch it?’” She grinned until she replayed her words in her head. “Oh my gosh! That makes me sound like a tramp.”

“No,” I chuckled. “It makes you sound like someone who knows what she likes. Besides, I know you’ve seen others.”

“I have not!” she lied. “Not like this. Well, one other.”

I didn’t want to get into an argument—the little head would’ve sulked for a month if I had—so I didn’t call her on it.

“But yours is bigger.”

“He’s big,” I said with a laugh at a sudden memory, “but your hands are small too.”

“What’s so funny?”

“My grandfather used to tell me to marry a girl with small hands.”

“Why?”

“‘Makes your johnson look bigger,’ he said.”

“You don’t need any help in that department.”

“Thanks.” And then, not quite mocking, I said, “I know it isn’t what you’re used to…”

“Ha ha. Use my own words against me. Fine. I get it.” She wasn’t really upset, though. She was too focused on my dick, and she continued stroking slowly. “He’s so hard,” she said at last. “And so soft at the same time.”

“Mmm hmm.” I wanted to put my hand on the back of her head and guide her mouth toward me, but I forced myself not to. The effort left me with a tingling sense of urgency that I knew all too well.

“He’s so big,” she said again. “I don’t know if he’ll fit.” She was hinting for all she was worth, but I refused to take the bait.

“You’ll find out,” I said, “when you’re ready.”

She nodded and gently touched my balls. Her hands were warm, which made me think of other places where she might be warm.

“Ooh,” she said with surprise as my cock swelled. “He likes it.”

“He likes you.”

“He does?”

“Mmm hmm. And if you keep stroking, he’ll show you.”

“Oh? How?”

“You know,” I said noncommittally.

“Is it anything like a liquid diet?”

“It is,” I said with feigned surprise.

“Well, you have a very big straw.”

“It has to deliver a lot of liquid.”

“What if it’s too much?”

“Then you’ll have to swallow twice.”

She grinned up at me. “You want me to swallow?”

Dammit! Walked into that one. “If you want,” I said aloud.

“I’d like that.” She flashed a quick, bright smile and then returned her attention to my cock. She stroked it firmly and used her other hand to massage my balls. It definitely wasn’t her first handjob, and I felt the pressure building. I knew I wouldn’t last long, but I tried to hold back anyway.

She concentrated on what she was doing as she pumped her fist up and down my shaft. My dick did look larger in her hands, and I silently chuckled again at my grandfather’s words.

Christy picked up her tempo, and her firm breasts bounced with the movement. She knew I was getting close. Her eyes practically glowed with anticipation as she moistened her lips. I took over for her and wrapped my fist around the base of my cock.

“Open your mouth,” I said at last.

She tilted her head back and opened wide. She looked like a little bird waiting to be fed.

I grinned to myself. That’s exactly what she was.

Her eyes met mine, and I erupted with a groan. A thick stream of white, hot semen shot into her mouth. I expected her to squeak, but she closed her eyes and moaned instead. The next spurt arced into her mouth, followed by a third and a fourth. I threw my head back and kept stroking until the surges of pleasure slowed and then stopped altogether.

I returned to my senses and realized that I was standing on tiptoes. My calves and thighs and buttocks were rock-hard with the effort. Christy stretched upward and braced herself with palms on my thighs. She didn’t want to miss a drop. I milked my cock one last time and spread the bead of semen on her shiny lips.

She closed her eyes and swallowed once, twice. Then she licked her lips and used her finger to wipe her chin. She sucked it clean and licked her lips for another errant drop. Her nostrils flared as she caught her breath.

“Oh my gosh,” she said at last. “That was a lot.” She gazed at my still-hard cock and then back up at me. “Is it always that much?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“For real?”

“Yep.” I lifted her to her feet. “You have a high metabolism, I have a high sperm count.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sperm isn’t the same as semen.”

“Oh?” She was right, but I hadn’t expected it. A nice Catholic girl wasn’t supposed to know anything about sex until her wedding night, right? I hid my cynicism and lifted an eyebrow instead.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she said. “Just because we’re Catholics doesn’t mean we’re ignorant.”