Meat The Byrne Family: Charlie part 1 (Patreon)

Hello all! Sorry for the delay, this month has been a bit shit with the food poisoning, and a little IRL event that really left me drained. BUT, no point in wallowing over it. Here is Charlie's debut! Enjoy!

Preview:

The young man, Aaron, fills the doorway. Six three, white-dyed hair cropped short, with shoulders that make the frame look narrow. He is still in the shirt he wore he got dumped in: dark, stretched across a thick chest, sleeves shoved up over forearms that testify of his loyalty to his gym routine. His jeans sit low on a narrow waist and cling to an ass that has no business being that round on a man who squats that much. As he walks in and pads toward the counter, he does not give off the vibe of a man hunting for company. He looks around like a man who wants a stool, a beer, and five minutes where nobody asks him if he is okay.

Behind the bar, the barman, although most confuse him for a barmaid, does not look up when the man sits down. He has one hip cocked against the counter, phone in his left hand, and a cigarette burning between the two fingers of his right. Long black hair falls past his shoulders, heavy bangs cutting a sharp line across his forehead and hide his eyes. He wears a tight black tube top, no bra because he has no need for one, leaving his pierced nipples faintly visible through the fabric when he breathes. A micro skirt the color of a bruise, spiked choker, spiked cuffs, and skull rings on both hands. The skirt is already riding a little since he has been leaning on the counter for twenty minutes now.

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“Yeah, right. I ain't got time to waste on a campus. I am just sure of myself because I have been watching you sit there trying not to look at my mouth.” the trap purrs plainly. “You keep flicking down to it when I talk. Then you look at the skirt. Then you look at your beer like the beer is going to save your help you.”

The man does not deny it at first. He waits until his ears go from pink to honest red before finally speaking. “I wasn’t-”

“You were. It’s fine, I get it. You walked in thinking you were going to drink yourself quiet and instead you sat down in front of the only interesting thing in a six block radius~” Charlie taps ash. “You want me to stop, say so. You want me to keep going, drink your beer and try to keep up.”

A faint smirk tugs at Aaron's lips, then he drinks. Keeps up.

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Aaron moans into his own wrist. Spit strings from his lip to the tile, while is dick is filling again already, heavy, slapping his stomach on every impact. The second climb is meaner, too soon. Nerves still fizzing, and every cock-slam drags over that same walnut until his arms tremble and his knees try to slide apart. But Charlie does not let them. He plants a palm between the bitch's shoulder blades and shoves his chest flatter to the floor, changing the angle so the next string of strokes is all grind and punch. The PLAPPLAPPLAP gets wetter, faster, becoming THWAPTHWAPTHWAPTHWAPs~ while Charlie’s rings bite bruises into Aaron’s hip.

“I'll make sure she smells me on you when you go crawl back to her. I want her to know her man got his guts rearranged by a femboy on break."

"N-No...! URGh!! SHit!!"

"Nah? You're not crawling back? Yeah, this tight cocksleeve is gonna keep clenching around the memory of my cock tomorrow, remembering this exact sound~”