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My tongue flickers around before I suck a deep breath through my nose, sliding my head forward again, cramming as much of his huge dick in my mouth as possible.
I run my tongue along the underside of his dick and start humming as I suck him off.
“Fucking hell, kid,” he groans. “You have one talented mouth.”
Kid again. It takes everything I have not to giggle, still humming. Merch’s hand in my hair is now gripping and flexing, and his hips are tentatively thrusting. But, unlike every other blow job I’ve ever given, he makes no move to move my head roughly or move his hips to take things at his pace.
I put all my skills into giving him the best blow job ever to show my appreciation. I’m rewarded when, a satisfyingly short time later, he groans.
“Fuck, kid.”
That’s all the warning I get as he starts to come into my mouth. Whatever. Part of the ‘best blow job ever’ package is swallowing, right?
Letting his softening dick slip out of my mouth, I stand, using the back of my hand to wipe across my face as he grins, zipping his dick away. I cut him off before he has a chance to speak.
“Bye, Merch.”
Waving, I turn and stroll back to the community day. I have enough time to grab my soda before I’m expected back at the arts and crafts stall. That was kind of the perfect way to spend my break.
MERCH
“There you are.”
I turn my head at the sound of Palmer’s voice. I’m moving back to my zone from the stallholder’s parking lot, sated yet somehow still noticing my little tourist in her stall. It doesn’t help that Palmer is standing across from her booth, his arm slung around his fiancée’s neck.
“Hey, Lisa.” I make sure my lips are facing her when I speak.
“Hey, Merch,” she smirks back, looking over my shoulder. “He’s been looking for you.”
“Yeah, because you weren’t answering your phone, and you weren’t around here.”
Fucking hell. My eyebrows shoot up as I dig my phone out of my pocket. Sure enough, two missed calls and three texts from Palmer, all askingwhere the fuck are you?
“Did something go down?”
“No,” Palmer snorts. “I washopingto sneak off with Lisa, but you were fucking nowhere.”
“That sounds like a you problem.” My little tourist’s words are out of my mouth before I even think about them. Lisa giggles and Palmer glares at me.
I glare right back. He’s always slinking off to fuck his woman. He can damn well suck it up that he had to wait while I got my dick wet this time.
Lisa is still giggling, and Palmer is still glaring, so I spare another glance at the arts and crafts stall. Shelley is there, and she’s back to ignoring me, just like before we went to the parking lot.
At least, itseemedlike she was. But she did come over to me and tell me to stop staring at her, so she wasn’t totally immune before. Maybe that’s the same now. I hope she’s in there, completely aware of me. I’m standing out here, completely aware of her. It’s only fair.
Palmer follows my gaze, something distracting him before his eyes lock on Shelley and her art stall.
“Preppy Pinedale fucks,” he grumbles. His words cut off in a grunt when Lisa smack him hard in the stomach with the back of her hand. “What was that for?” he whines.
“Iwas a preppy Pinedale fuck,” she reminds him. Oh yeah. Sometimes I forget Lisa is a poor little Pinedale rich girl. She never acts like it, so it’s very easy to forget. Palmer smirks down at her.
“Yeah. But you’re so fucking sexy you get away with it.”
Lisa snorts softly, rolling her eyes. Palmer tears his eyes away from his fiancée’s mouth and glances back at the group of young men in preppy polo shirts and boat shoes, who caught his attention.
“I wouldn’t have picked them for visiting a kids arts and crafts stall,” he notes, his eyes narrowing.
That does seem out of character. They better not have organized a drug hand-off or anything. We don’t allow that shit at our community days. There are kiddies here, for fuck’s sake. And that’s akid'sarts and crafts stall. Not to mention Shelley is in there.
