Do not utter a syllable,” I said softly. He gave a silent gesture indicating he was in agreement to what was mentioned. “Slowly remove your cock...from your pants. Do not remove your pants.” Jake bit his lower lip. The long, golden brown, juicy, plump cock was at least 10 inches long. Hmmmm. I wanted to taste. Just one simple taste would suffice. “Spit in your hand. Get that cock nice and lubed up for me.” Jake groaned. The cars passing in the garage had not noticed I had the engine turned. I didn’t do a full drawing. Just enough to know I could fill it in later and have the effect and likeness that I wanted.Afterward, I put the drawing supplies away and came back to the bed. I was hard again, imagining fucking a fourteen-year-old boy while I was doing my drawing. It wasn’t Hans I was imagining fucking, though. It was the luscious redheaded tennis player, Brian Brushwood.As I hovered over the boy on the bed, he murmured “Du bist zu gross—You’re too big,” to me again, which I. More

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