After I had consumed my food, he said, “You stink, boy, we need to get yer cleaned up.”“Sorry, sir,” was all I could offer in reply.“Not yer...fault. But in this house, we bathe once a week. On Sundays,” he proclaimed.“Yes, sir, thank you, sir,” I replied.“What’s yer name?” he inquired.“Maurice, sir,” I answered.“No 'sirs' here, buddy, name’s Mac. My surname’s McDonald, but everyone just calls me Mac,” he explained.“Should I call you Mr. McDonald, sir?” I questioned.“Nah… Mac will do,” he. I was very familiar with Peter's cock by now, when it was inside me, it felt like it belonged. I loved the taste of his cum too. Every chance I got I would be on my knees milking him for my own nourishment.One day he passed me at lunch and handed me a plastic cup and said, 'For you my dear.' It was his precious juice freshly squeezed, without a thought I slurped it up and swirled it in my mouth for a minute so it hit every taste bud then I swallowed it slowly, to make sure I cherished every. More

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