Well, it had been five minutes since he had calmed down but he remained in my arms, his face still buried against my shirt. I think he was so ashamed that he didn't want to look me in the face. If that wasn't cute. I then put his garment back on his little p***s, carefully cleaned by my tongue, and carried him to his bed upstairs. He turned his back on me and cowered so I gently covered him and walked out without forcing him to talk to me.
After that I had a really hard time meeting him. He avoided me like the plague and his room was always locked.
At first I thought he would get over it but after two days it really started to annoy me. I still had the right to know what he thought about what I had done to him! Given the way he had c*m, his only problem was probably not being able to den
