Page 7 of Snowballing

I turned away from his glorious crotch, but he grabbed my arm to stop me. “Is everything okay? Is that your phone?”

I suddenly felt ashamed because this man was no danger to me. Far from it. “Uh, I gotta get that or it’s automatically going to call 9-1-1.”

“Really?” He didn’t understand.

“Yeah. Sorry, but I always set that up on a first visit.” I shrugged. “You never know.”

He instantly let go, so I could crawl over to my shorts and enter the code. I opened the safety app and disabled the hourly checks, then crawled back over to him. Looking up, he had a pensive expression on his face. His blonde eyebrows scrunched over his hazel eyes.

I made a move for his dick, but he stood up. “Get on the bed. All fours, ass facing me.”

I quickly did what he said, arching my back to give him a good view. As he climbed behind me, I felt the dip in the bed. I waited to hear the familiar tear of the condom wrapper or the squirt of some lube, but neither came.

“Oh!”

Warmth engulfed my hole. His tongue swiped down along my taint, ending with just a tease of my balls.

“Gonna get you nice and slick before I fuck you, Jayden.”

It was the second time he had said my fake name, and I had never wanted to tell a trick my real name so badly. I wanted to hear it leave his lips. The lips that were so gently nibbling my perineum.

“Oh my god, sir. That feels so good.” I was basically panting.

He was considerate, respectful of my safe word, and an amazing analinguist. I prayed that he’d want to do this again. It was already the best sex I’d had and neither of us had cum yet.

I heard a door slam, and the rimjob immediately stopped.

“Daddy?”

“Jesus Christ!” TenInchTop was off the bed in a flash. “You have to get out of here.”

There it was. He was in a relationship. I fucking knew it was too good to be true.

I scrambled to get my clothes on and silently thanked the fucker for wanting me to keep my shoes on. With his shorts back on, he pushed me out the bedroom door and down the hall towards the garage.

“Where are you, Daddy?”

Jesus, his boyfriend - fuck, they could be married - whatever he was, sounded young.

As he pushed me down the darkened hallway, I whisper-yelled, “My keys are in the kitchen.”

He nodded and disappeared.

“Hey champ, what are you doing home already? Oh, hold up, I forgot to lock the garage.”

I made my way to the door in the dark, put my coat on, and waited.

“I’m so sorry” was all he said before turning around.

I had my coat. I had my keys. I did not have my pants.

But I wasn’t about to cause a scene. I’m sure the boyfriend-husband would find them soon enough.

“Fuck!” I slammed my hand against the steering wheel as I sped away. I should’ve known he was taken. His boy probably decorated the house!

No wonder he was calling me champ and buddy. He might not have looked like one, but he was a daddy. And he just cheated on his little or boy, or whatever he called him.

What an asshole!