The only thing on Jason that was mine, was his deep blue eyes and his sandy blonde hair; the rest was his father’s. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only a few seconds, Jason spoke, “And you are?” he asked with a voice that was identical to his father’s. “Hi,” I said with a smile. “I’m with your bank.”“Ah so you’re here for the money?” he asked. I nodded and he showed me in. The apartment was nearly completely bare except for the stacked boxes at the entrance which I nearly managed to trip on clumsily with my high heels. I never wore the damn things very often enough to get used to walking in them. We walked into the kitchen where there was a wooden table and a few chairs. We sat and began discussing the account. As we talked it was like talking to his father as if he had not aged a year. The two were so similar. I came to learn that he was into the arts as our talk progressed. He had sold a few paintings and was a part time manager at a local art gallery.. The next thing I knew his mouth was on mine, our hands were in each other’s hair. It was almost as if we were each starving for the touch of the other; lightly tracing my fingers down his chest down to the top of his pants I paused, waiting for his groan before gently skimming over his pants I could feel him already erect. “I've been waiting all night for this,” he murmured I teased him by slipping my finger underneath the elastic of his pants and rubbing my fingers across his pelvis going lower and lower until I was almost touching before moving my hand up again. This must have been too much as he kissed me hard and took his pants off, an open invitation. I licked my hands to create some lubricant and took his erect 9” penis, massaging the tip with one hand. Groans were elicited from him as I stroked him with my other hand making the movements longer and longer, keeping his sensitive tip still against my first hand. I gasped suddenly as his hands started massaging my already swollen.
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