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Medici is the best, goofiest Daddy ever.
No one—not even a Harvard prof—could light me up the way he does.
Asplashingsound reaches my ears.
"Look at that, boy." Medici pries my left eyelid back and directs my gaze between his legs. "You made it extend."
Sure enough, his ten-inch cock pokes through the water, sending ripples to the bank.
"Wow." I squeeze the tip. "I heard it break the surface."
"That’s because you made it harden so quickly it had no choice but to pop up like a bullet," Medici growls, feathering his lips to my ear, biting my lobe.
I roll his foreskin back. "I’msooooojealous of your intactness. It’s not fair."
"Don’t be. Your dick is perfect in its own way. Also—we always crave what we don't have. If you’d been born like me, you’d wish you were cut. Vice versa."
I hate to be this guy. "Actually, Iwasborn like you," I say. "But someone thought I’d be better different."
Climbing onto his lap, I shove my hard pink dick in his face. "See?" I sniffle. "Look at it, Daddy. It’s not fair."
Medici eyes roll back so far that he doesn’t even stare at my rod. "You’d better get that thing out of my face."
"I want a foreskin," I wail, poking his neck with my cock, then his lips. "I spoke to Ryder who’s uncut last night and he told me that he plays with his. Puts grapes in it. Do you ever do that? I want to try."
Medici charges forward and wraps his lips around my crown.
The sensation is so sudden, so unexpected, that I thrust my fingers through his hair, screaming with bliss.
He slobbers on my dick, licking the tender length, before gagging as the tip rams into his tonsils, making him choke.
"Oh yeah, boy." A growl escapes him as he drags my dick out of his mouth. "Nothing like it. An American dick. So clean. Wish every man in the world was like you."
"You make me feel better about myself!"
"Internalize this body positivity lesson. Loving yourself isn’t only about your shape or size, sunflower. It’severything—your nips, your ass, your cock."
"My willy!"
"Yes, boy. Your willy. Cut and pink and perfect. You don't want a foreskin—why would you want to take away from perfection? Leave the foreskins to Daddies. Twenty-year-old boys like you should have tight, cut dicks that Daddies can slobber on. Juicy pink ones that are perfect for kissing."
I melt as he plants growly kisses up my length, before reaching my crown.
Swooshgoes my dick in his mouth.
Slurpgoes his tongue.
A strand of pre-cum shoots out of my slit and rockets against the dangly thing in the back of his throat.
I don't even feel it—I’m too busy scrunching my eyes, gripping his hair, canting my hips.
Gah.
Just gah.
Medici adores me. Praises me. Makes me feel like a Prince.
How long have I waited for this? How much time did I waste in Manhattan?
