Andrew and Ed

Kesteval’s boys. And their hearts belong to daddies.

“Andrew. I got it right. Andrew and Ed. Andrew is the taller; taller than his father though not so beautifully broad; while Ed is younger and a little shorter, though it is he that has the beard, the stubble of which I shall shortly feel nipping and scratching at the most delicate skin around my asshole, as he licks Toren’s cum from my gash and prepares to replace it with his own. For this is the quiet moment before they fuck me. The moment where we all know every minute of the next hour, and sail gently towards making it manifest. Every look and every lick and every touch and every inch of these boys inside my body seems as written in the stars as could be.

“Their cocks are a vision, similar to their dad’s in length and scope though deeper in the tan. They each carry a golden glow as the skin slips back from the heads of them, and the boys lie and float in lazy drifts, fingers smoothing along the shape of their cocks while I watch them.

“Theirs is the speed of the inevitable.”