Craig & Irene Ch. 02byjeffrey214©
She said, "Yes dear, thank you for being a good boy and asking for more," as she doubled her attentions to the swollen head of his penis, twirling and rolling the palm of her hand across his glans as she pumped his thick shaft.
Finally, after driving the boy near the breaking point, Irene stopped stimulating the head of his penis and returned her hand to stroking his shaft lovingly.
"There, there, dear, you've been very good for me, and now you can relax while I make all your semen spurt out."
The boy collapsed in a mixture of relief and despair, his mind completely turned to mush from the mixed signals of intense overstimulation and the coaching to 'offer' his genitals for more stimulation, and yet at the same time to 'relax' - which was impossible! His breathing was deep and ragged and his heart was beating a mile a minute.
Irene smiled as she sped up her stroking. Just a few moments, she thought, and he'll be spurting nice juicy spurts of fresh warm semen for her enjoyment. She didn't care about getting the measuring cup because she didn't want to disturb the flow of stimulation she was applying to the boy.
Again, she looked at the swollen purple puffy head of the boy's penis and licked her lips. Dare I? No, she thought firmly, I won't do that.
She began to stroke fast and hard, making the boy's body bounce and shake on the bed as she worked his big stiff penis. His head moved side to side and he moaned incoherently in response.
He began to whimper helplessly, his eyes screwed shut and his mouth locked open at the edge of ejaculation. Irene pointed his penis toward his navel and gripped his big testicles, giving them a firm squeeze.
"Surrender, Craig," she cooed softly, "surrender your semen, just let it happen. You know you can't stop it. I'm making you ejaculate, honey, so just let it happen. Just relax and surrender to your Aunt Irene. I'm making your penis spurt, dear, so just fully submit to me and you may come for me."
He let out a long and truly soulful moan and it was followed by the whimpers of despair and helplessness that Irene wanted to hear. She smiled as the first spurt of semen flowed from his penis. It was a good spurt in volume, but it wasn't a truly powerful spurt. It was more of a gush and flow, and only traveled a few inches before falling on his bare shaved tummy.
There followed another big gush, and another, and another, accompanied by plaintive and helpless-sounding whimpers. Each gush and flow was weaker than the previous one, but there were many and he was producing a very large amount of fluid, which pleased Irene greatly.
She wondered about the over-stimulation of his glans affecting the boy's ability to shoot his sperm in the usual way. But she decided she liked this method, and enjoyed that his ejaculation was different and no less interesting than every other.
This was a slower and somehow more intimate ejaculation, taking longer between spurts, and Irene stroked him more slowly as he came, keeping time with the relaxed tempo. The boy continued to moan softly and make the most delightfully helpless whimpers through his pouting lips as Irene caressed and coaxed his semen out with long slow strokes.
She felt it was a very intimate ejaculation, perhaps the most intimate they had yet shared, and she marveled at how sweet and tender it was to feel each slow pulse in her hand and watch the white fluid continue to flow and dribble from the boy's pink and purple penis.
Fully half of the boy's ejaculate merely dripped and pooled on her fingers as it continued to slowly flow out of him as she milked him fully of each precious drop. She felt as though his ejaculation took more than a full minute from the first gush to the last dribbles.
When she was sure there was no more semen to be coaxed from the boy's exhausted and half-erect penis, she laid his member softly against his belly and stepped into the bathroom to clean her hands and get a warm wet towel to clean him up.
It's so messy this way without the collection cup, she thought as she smiled at her semen soaked fingers, but it's very nice too. When she milked him on his hands and knees, making him spurt into the measuring cup, she seldom had to wipe him at all, let alone clean her own hands. But this morning both she and the boy were messy with his warm offering.
She looked at the warm pearly fluid, squishy between her fingers, and her mouth watered involuntarily. It seemed so intimate to have her hand so drenched with her nephew's warm and rich semen.
I suppose it wouldn't matter if I just had a taste of the boy, she thought, as she lifted her hand to her face and took a deep sniff of his scent. It was vaguely bleachy and very male, she thought. It made her wonder more about its possible flavor.
Without thinking further, she slipped the tip of her tongue out toward her small hand, and let it dab at her nephew's boy-juices. Just a little taste won't hurt anything.
She couldn't taste or feel anything on her tongue, the sample was just too small. She turned her head to confirm that the doorway to the bathroom didn't reveal her to the boy on the bed. She turned back and opened her mouth, watching herself in the mirror as she let two semen-laden fingers slip in.
Irene watched her lips close on her fingers, and she watched her fingers slowly drawn out. Her fingers were now clean - her tongue had even slid between her digits of its own accord so as not to waste a drop.
There was taste now and she could feel the thick consistency of the gooey fluid, unusual and rare.
She decided that it was nice, and it made her feel warm inside. She was affectionate toward her nephew, and this little private intimacy with him felt very special to her. She rolled the boy's semen around in her mouth, examining its flavor and texture as it quickly dissolved and she swallowed.
She decided she liked it quite well.
Irene repeated the process, licking her nephew's semen from the rest of her hand. Soon she had cleaned the boy's juices thoroughly from her hand, and had savored and swallowed every last bit.
She quickly washed her hands and brought the wet towel back to her nephew and cleaned the semi-conscious boy gently and lovingly.
She sat on the side of the bed next to him and caressed his face for a few minutes, letting him recover from what she thought was a truly special time together.
When the boy roused, she helped him up and shooed him into the shower and then made breakfast. After they had eaten, she got him dressed and out the door.
As they pulled up to the entrance of the Larraine Institute for Young Gentlemen, she gave her invitation to the guard at the gate, and drove to the parking area.
"Well, here we are, Craig," she said, "Are you ready?"
"I'm nervous," he said, looking at her for support.
"Don't worry dear," she said as she gave him a hug, "I'm sure the nice ladies here will take good care of you. Just be a good boy and do whatever they say."
She gave him a peck on the cheek and then he was out of the car and going up the steps toward his new adventure.
Irene called from the car's open window, "I'll see you tomorrow night, honey."
"I'll see you then, Aunt Irene," he called back waving.
And then he disappeared through the massive oak doors...