Breakfast and a Bribe

Vince decided to give me a little taste of domestic life this morning — and let’s just say it wasn’t eggs and toast that had my attention.

There he was in the kitchen: naked, hard, glowing with that soft morning light, hips swaying as he moved like he belonged there. Like I belonged there — watching, claiming, owning. He said he wanted to show me how he’d cook for me every morning. Serve me coffee. Make me breakfast. Be my good little houseboy.

The only catch?

“As long as you promise to eat me after,” he whispered. And he wasn’t talking about leftovers.

That tight little body, bent over the counter, boy pussy slick, needy, twitching for attention.

He wasn’t just teasing. He was offering.

Vince knows how to keep a man hungry —And even hungrier once breakfast is done.