Page 62 of Kit
Parker
On the drive home from the Christmas train, snow started falling faster against the windshield. But the streets were still clear with little to no ice.
Kit squirmed in his seat. I pictured the plug inside him, moving just enough to drive him crazy.
“Feeling good?”
“Ha. You’re funny, Daddy. But yes. I can’t wait until we get home.”
I imagined the plug shifting every time I hit a small bump in the road.
When we finally got through the front door, it was around ten. Late enough to go upstairs but early enough to have a lot of fun before sleepy time.
I went to the kitchen and got us both bottles of water. At long last we headed upstairs.
“Bet you can’t catch me, Daddy!” Kit giggled and skittered ahead of me.
“Oh? You don’t want to be caught? Well, all right. I’ll let you go, then.”
He froze in the middle of the staircase, looking over his shoulder. “Wait. What?”
“Well, baby boy, you’re just too fast for me.”
He frowned and stomped his foot. “I am not.”
I laughed and lunged for him, catching only the back of his dress shirt. It pulled partway out of his waistband before sliding through my fingers. Kit squealed and ran up the rest of the steps and down the hall, whooping.
I sauntered after him as he turned into the bedroom. Now I had him trapped.
When I came through the door, Kit stood in the middle of the room, waiting for me. He put his hands up.
“I surrender, Daddy.”
“Surrender? That’s no fun.”
“It isn’t?”
“I thought you might put up a little bit of a fight.”
“I’ve been fighting all night to keep my hands away from you,” he said sheepishly. “Daddy, I want you so bad.”
I strode over to him, placing my hands on his shoulders and leaning in to kiss him.
Our mouths merged as if we’d been apart a hundred years. Fervent, hard, open. Kit grabbed me around the waist. I slid my arms around his shoulders and ran my palms straight down his back to the curves of his ass. He was such a perfect boy.
As we kissed, we stumbled our way to the bed. This was happening. And fast.
We broke apart and Kit fell back on the bed. My hands were on his bowtie and shirt buttons. His were on my waistband button.
We worked fast and sloppy, tearing the clothes from our bodies, kicking off our shoes and tossing them to the floor. Kit’spants came off, briefs and all, and he quickly pushed his socks off.
I leaned back to finish stripping off my own pants and shorts. Kit spun before me until he crouched on the bed, ass up, purple rhinestone glinting from between his ass cheeks.
Further between his legs, his balls hung lovely and ripe. His cock curved up toward his belly and I lost sight of it.
I bent and kissed each cheek, plumping them in my hands.
My own cock was raging, demanding. I couldn’t help myself. I rubbed it up against the softness of his ass just to get some reprieve. It ramped up the pleasure but allowed me to still keep control.
