He knows I usually come home from nights out in a certain type of mood. To put it simply: horny + extra mean. Hair, nails, body on point, and I keep him dancing on a razor's edge for the better part of 15 minutes. He thrusts and throbs and twitches and withstands everything my expert hands can do ... until I call him my very good boy and bring him up onto Mommy's lap. He starts pulsing, and I stifle it. I make him beg me to release his shaft. It spurts, it stops, then I simulate a pinkynail sounding and mindfuck him into a second ruin. Mommy's good boy suffers exquisitely.