At the very last second, Lane suprises you by leaning off of his bed and grabbing for an old shirt which you're standing on. There's no time to run, and you're soon wrapped up in the thin grey fabric that was once Lain's favourite gym shirt, now a rag about to be used for the last time to soak up a torrent of Lane's come.
The vague scent of your friend's sweat along with fabric softener is the first to take over your senses. The next smell isn't so soft on the nose.
Lane's giant dick rams right into the bundled shirt and butts you in the face. Your lips involuntarily slide over the slimey head and you collect a mouthful of pre-come. The strength of the taste must be multiplied a million due to your tiny size, and the horrible embarrassment of polishing your own friend's cock with your mouth is even harder to stomach.
At this point, you almost hope that Lane doesn't discover you, because if he did you would probably die of embarrassment.
You regret this thought when the moment finally arrives, and your giant friend pumps what seems like a bucket-load of his thick, hot come into the rag, and you're buried deep in a pool of pungent white semen..
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