“A” stands for

We had both been getting a little hairier, on and between our legs, but still his skin felt smooth and pleasant. I passed his cock still without touching it, further up to his belly. I moved under his shirt and pushed it up, exposing his torso to the chill evening air. I felt his nipples harden, from my touch or from the chill, not sure. But he moaned as I lingered on them, rubbing them in circles with the palm of my hand, and moaned a little louder when I pinched them with my fingers. While my hands were busy higher up, my face had come to where the real object of my desire lay waiting, twitching impatiently. I ran my nose from down between his legs, slowly over his sack, shaft and glans, inhaling his musky scent. I repeated the maneuver, but this time let the tip of my tongue do the exploring. I drew little circles over his scrotum, finding and softly manipulating his nutts. Just a little appetizer for later.

I moved further up, massaging the breadth of his cock with my tongue as flat and wide as it would go. He shuddered, but didn’t make a sound apart from his staggering breathing. I was immensely enjoying this. His smell, his taste, but mostly the delay and the effect it had on him. I knew my mom wouldn’t expect me home for at least a few hours, and I intended to spin out this moment as long as I could. I arrived at the top of his shaft and tickled the little sinew connecting his glans to the rest of his cock with the tip of my tongue. He was already squirming and spasmed for real when I tried to pluck it like a guitar string. I was still twisting his pebble-hard nipples, testing how hard I could pinch them before I noticed it hurt him. So far his threshold wasn’t reached yet, but I didn’t overdo it. My focus rested on the maturing man meat laying impatiently on his downy belly.