Drawing back neatly, the tailor pressed his lips to the fat shaft, feeling the pulse of his majesty’s heart beat along the thickened urethra. His fingers massaged the damp sac, moving up the root, fondling indiscriminately the sides of the shaft and then, blissfully, up to the head. A small, crystal-clear rivulet of ardor oozed up and out, dripping to the floor, where it landed between the prince’s feet.
This was when the full, white beard attacked, its open mouth sliding over the great, brown shaft and sucking deeply from it. Both men squirmed and relished in the lust wrapping tightly around them as the tailor took it all, slowly rocking back and forth as his tongue danced and played on the underside of the stony cock. Salty juices continued to tease his taste buds as he dug the head deeper into his throat in order to better taste them. At last, the slim panes of the tailor’s spectacles nestled gently against the prince’s fluffy pubic hair for a grateful moment, wisely withdrawing mere seconds before the grunting youth could orgasm.
Getting to his feet was something the old man was still very proficient at, although he tried to deny himself the knowledge of it taking longer than it had in previous years. The prince was more than happy to aid him; it wasn’t just because they got to have their fingers laced romantically together, but mostly because it quenched the fledgling king’s thirst to serve another as he’d always been served.