a fear that he would not be the same. The moment had been born a hundred times in his imagination but it hadn't lived up to the real thing. He let out a hard moan, and was shushed. He'd forgotten there was someone else in the house and continued to grunt. Not as hard or as feverish as he'd have liked but still he was able to enjoy the pleasure mounting within.

His Mexican cock filled every corner of space it found. It tickled and pierced the back of the throat while he serrated on dimpled hips. Christoff's prick rubbed rhythmically against dark hairy legs. It teased the head of the French and Black prick in a way he had not expected. Fingers drifted down Christoff's spin to find his ass shaved smooth. No drag, his hole would fold instantly in on itself allowing a shaft to be buried up to its balls. Silvio's mouth formed a soft O as he watched his dick become engulfed. It hit the tight little band at the back of Chris's throat, which gave added stimulation. It would put him over the edge. For a moment Christoff stayed on it, making it disappear. For fifteen seconds cock filled the space between eternities. Silvio for a moment wondered if he'd lost his erection and flexed himself at the count of fourteen. The cock sucking sputtered, spasmed and gagged.

"You like some big cock, huh baby? You want me to fuck that pussy too" Silvio purred but his voice was still like a hammer. Part of him wanting to fuck, another part afraid in that moment of what his abuela might think, what his kids might think if they ever found out about the things their daddy was about to do. None of it was stronger than the calling of the mouth suckling on his cock. It was almost loving, his cock was being loved, appreciated, and worshiped. He leaned back against the wall and watched and felt the full length of his member enthroned inside a warm fleshy tube. Like little quakes, the muscles constricted to push him out. It was the brilliant act of nature, defiant in one way, accepting in another. "I love you,” he said more to himself and the world. In respect, he did only what he felt like doing, speaking what he felt like saying.

"Bend him over and make him take it,” the little voice urged. "That'd be the shit. Fuck him and make this bitch squirm." Silvio's hips slapped the side of the bed as he started to rise and fall, pumping in and out of Christoff's throat without mercy. The springs churned slowly like the making of butter.

Christoff suffered through the tears that welled out the corners of his eyes. The rank smell of grog and sweat clung to the Mexican's pubes. He could feel the semen move into position. "No not yet" he thought, and fought the urge to cum. "Hang on just a little bit longer."

Silvio's eye's were closed and were looking somewhere inside of his own head. "What was he seeing?" Even through the blurred vision, a part of the image of not being looked at struck Christoff as not vested. He wanted to be the one Silvio would see if he shot. He debated if he'd swallow. He wanted it, but wanted the eye contact. He held his own excitement and hoped that he'd hear I love you again.

"Yeah, that's it, don't worry baby. Suck that straight cock."