I moved my hand down to my jeans and undid them, slowly. I reached down and pulled my cock up so that it wasn’t straining at that downward angle. It...felt great to have it up and extend above the band of my briefs. A loud “Oh!” from the bedroom pulled at my thoughts again and I felt a surge and tightening below my balls at my perineum, a place where my wife sometimes ventures, pressing and sliding her fingers down and around as I am fucking her or as she is sucking me, sometimes touching my anus. John could feel his own warm cum swirling around his dickhead in the boy's moist mouth. He started getting hard again.He knew it was wrong. He shouldn't be fucking around with a teenager, espe­cially one of his own students, but he couldn't remember a cum like the one he'd just had, and all he had been doing was beating off the boy's meat! And now he was getting a blow job from a sixteen-year-old. It was fucking perverted; it was child molesting—but it also had him as hard as if he hadn't cum. It was a week after my 16th birthday that I met Patrick. He was 20 years old and at college. He had taken me out a few times and we had sex in the back of his car, twice. He said that he would like to do it in comfort and invited me back to his Frat house. I had really enjoyed sex with Patrick, he was considerate, kind and a good lover. I was completely besotted with him and would do whatever he asked of me.On the evening we where to go to his Frat house, Patrick had asked me to wear a very. I wondered if he was really baking. “I'm trying to make a cake,” he replied. “It's a last minute thing. Someone found out it's the secretary's birthday, and she doesn't like store bought cake.” “Oh.” He came back out. “Where is it that you work?” I asked. “I do oversight for Innertech. You?” Wow. Innertech was a big name. “Project coordinator for CASB.” Another big name. His eyes widened appreciatively. “Hey,” he started tentatively. “Maybe you could give me a hand with this. I'm not.