I started slowly working my tongue through the sweat-tangled hair in his crack, avoiding his asshole until he grabbed my hair and growled, "Get with it, shithead! To begin with, I was now dressed head to foot in leathers much like my Master's. In one corner under a spot- light was an old-style tub with feet, standing on a kind of platform.
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His low-hanging balls were smacking against my Adam's apple, and his thick cockhead was plunging in and out of my throat. As I pulled back, his foreskin slipped forward again; I slid my tongue in between the skin and the head and flipped it from side to side before pushing the skin back again. Still, he was kind of sexy somehow.
His hair was black, with grey at the temples; his short-clipped beard also had grey at the temples, and some at the chin. Turned into a Cocksucker. I quickly undid Master's fly and glanced up for permission to continue. A Weekend in Amsterdam.