DIARY OF A TEENAGE MILKMAN

Linda kept sucking, pumping my shaft with her fist until I started to go soft in her hand, only then did I realise that every muscle in my body was straining, my barely developed abdominals were screaming at me from the tension I’d put them under as I came. My jaw ached from clenching my teeth as I tried to delay the moment of release, “You really need to learn to just let go sweetheart,” Linda said, looking up at me as she licked her lips, scooping the cum from her face with her fingers then sucking them clean. “You’ll enjoy it better if you relax and let it happen, not that I have any complaints, quite the reverse, that has got to be the most cum I have ever swallowed from a single cock,” she continued. I should have been flattered but instead I felt a bit peeved, jealous even at the thought of other men Cumming in Linda’s mouth. Her single cock comment also disturbed me, a vision of Linda sucking more than one cock at the same time entered my head, some might find that a turn on, me ? I didn’t, my immature sixteen year old brain already saw Linda as mine and mine alone, stupid I knew but I couldn’t help being sixteen and I admit at that point I had already fallen just a little bit in love with her. That didn’t last long, a glance at the alarm clock on the bedside cabinet told me that it was ten O’clock, I should have been home half an hour ago. “Oh shit, look at the time.” I said, grabbing the clock and showing it to Linda who was still busy cleaning my cum from her face. “So you’ll be home a bit late,” she replied, “at least you have a good excuse, you can tell your mother that you’ve been busy screwing an old woman customer.” She found this funny, too funny for my liking, it was alright for her, I was still only fifteen, at least for the next few days and apart from the fact I had still got important homework to complete for the morning and would need to be up at 6 am to do my morning round before school there was something even more serious. Where had I been till this time of night ? that’s the question I’d be asked, not only by my parents but by my b*****r that I shared a room with. I might be able to come up with a feasible excuse for my mother, although she would be worried in case I’d been mugged for the money I’d collected from customers that night, I still had to count it and tally the books before my boss collected it from me, for all I knew he might even have been at my home for it as he sometimes did ? Then there was my b*****r, he would be harder to fool, he could read me like a book and would know that I’d spun a yarn to my parents to throw them off the scent, he’d get it out of me even if he had to pin me to the bedroom floor to get the truth.