It filled up his mouth. Tucker twisted his facial muscles to stretch, and even rubbed at his cheeks. They hurt! His whole jaw was sore at first, not that he minded one bit. Chad tasted like soap, and then like nirvana. It was chubby and smooth and salty and warm, and mostly porcelain white—just like the rest of Chad. The domed head was the color of bubblegum, like his nips, and the more Tucker sucked, the shinier and redder and fatter it got. There was spit on the ginger hair, streaks of it that Tucker swirled with his finger. He played in the thatch the entire time his mouth moved up and down the thickness jutting from it. He inhaled all around the area, a special scent that immediately hit his gut—clean, but not too clean: an aroma Tucker thought of as manly—one that turned him on when h
