There’s a difference between loving men and loving cocks.
* * * * *
I’m not gay.
Now, if you had seen me last night about this time, you might doubt this. I was on my knees with a rather large, and very hard, cock deep in my mouth. I was sucking on it and sliding it in and out of my mouth, with one hand wrapped around the base and the other cupping the hairy ball sack.
“Okay,” I can imagine you saying. “I can believe that you’re not gay if you were being forced somehow. Maybe the guy was holding a gun to your head or something. Or maybe he was blackmailing you, or you’d lost a bet or something.”
But that’s not it. I was sucking this cock not only willingly, but eagerly. Indeed, I’d spent some considerable effort to get that cock between my lips and I enjoyed every second that I got to suck on it. And, my enjoyment built to a crescendo as the guy built to an orgasm. What I enjoyed most-what caused in me a sort of mental orgasm-was when I felt that hard cock explode in my mouth, covering my tongue with its salty, slimy treat.
“Okay. That’s it,” you say. “You’re gay!”
But that just shows how little you know. If I were gay, I’d be attracted to men. But I’m not. Not in the least. I suppose I’d want to go out with men, to embrace them. I don’t. If I were gay, I’d want to kiss men. The very thought turns my stomach. What I’m attracted to-what I crave-is cocks. I love them: long or short, fat or skinny, veined or smooth, hard or soft, black, brown, red, white or yellow.
Okay, I know what you want to say: “Cocks are attached to men.” Very perceptive of you! I know that of course. So, I’ll do what I have to with the men, to get what I really want. I’ve gone out on dates with men; I’ve embraced men; and I’ve even kissed them. I didn’t find any of these things in the least pleasant in itself. Oh, I’ll admit that my heart sometimes pounded with excitement. But it was only the excitement of the thought that I was getting close to getting what I really wanted.
And, yes, I’ll admit that I’ve had more than a few cocks up my ass. But that, too, was just to get what I wanted. I don’t mean that it hurt that much or that I actually hated it. Sometimes it kind of felt good. But I only did that if the guy pressured me and it looked as if I wasn’t going to keep getting what I wanted if I didn’t put out the way he wanted me to.
That hardly ever happens anymore because I seldom hang around for second or third dates with a guy. If I can get all the cock I want with anonymous, one-night-stands, I can avoid not only having to get to know the guy who’s attached to the cock, I can usually avoid getting fucked in the ass. But, again, it’s not that I mind getting fucked in the ass so much. I’d rather just suck. If I’m on a one-night-stand, then if I’m going to get all the cum I can from the cock, doing the anal thing, too, means that I usually wind up sucking on a cock that tastes of latex, or worse. I’m too much of a connoisseur to enjoy that.
And I am sort of a connoisseur of cock. Some people think it’s all about size and they mean by that: “the bigger, the better.” But they couldn’t be more wrong. Oh, it’s true alright that a huge cock is a huge turn on. Believe me, I’ve had some enormous ones, and I know. I’ve had some so fat I could barely stretch my lips around them. I’ve had some so long that even with both hands wrapped around the shaft like I was holding a baseball bat I still couldn’t fit the rest in my mouth. Fat cocks, long cocks…they’re fantastic. But only a rank amateur or someone completely devoid of taste in cocks would think that size means quality.
In fact, I’ve never sucked a dick that I didn’t find something to like about. I’ve had straight ones and curved ones, fat ones and skinny ones, veined ones and smooth ones. I’ve sucked off cut cocks and uncut ones, black ones, yellow ones, brown ones and white ones. I’ve sucked off young cocks that were as hard as iron and primed to explode at the least provocation. And I’ve sucked off old guys who never really got hard. (It’s actually quite a turn on for me to be able to milk a cock of its cum even when the guy can’t get hard.) It doesn’t matter. They’re all good. Actually, they’re all great.
I said that I’d worked hard for the cock I was getting last night. Really it’s more conniving and scheming than real work. But it takes time and some sensitivity. Like I said, I like one-night-stands best. That means I’m always looking for new cock. Maybe you think that most guys are so horny that a guy like me (are there other guys like me?) should have no trouble finding a willing partner-as long as I’m not looking for reciprocation.
Well, if that’s what you’re thinking, you’re wrong. I’m never looking for reciprocation. Sure, sometimes a guy has wanted to return the favor and sometimes I’ve let it happen. But usually that’s just because I think it will lead to me getting another load of his cum. If I’m certain he’s shot his last wad for the night, I’d really rather just go home and beat off while I recall the feel and taste of his cock in my mouth. I can really do that. I mean, I can recall the feel and taste so vividly that it’s as if he’s still in my mouth while I’m stroking my cock. It’s very exciting.
Anyway, even though I’m not looking for reciprocation, I have to go to some lengths to get guys. You can’t just hang a sign around your neck saying, “I love to suck cocks.” For some reason that I don’t understand, that turns a lot of guys off, and it can get you beaten up. And lots of guys who wouldn’t be up for it if they knew from the outset that’s what you were after, can be brought round to it if they’re handled right.
The trick is to find the right door. That means just talking with them like a regular guy-not setting off anyone’s “gaydar”. I’m not gay, of course, but there a lot of guys who get confused about these things. So, I talk with them about the things people talk about when they just meet at a bar or diner. I never come on to them until I find the door.
Here’s how it went last night. I went to a bar that was way on the other side of town. I’d never been to it before but I knew enough to know that it wasn’t a gay bar or singles bar. I hate going to gay bars. It’s not that I have anything against sucking a gay guy’s cock. But most gay guys want to do things like kiss or hug. Or they’re into B&D or leather. Those aren’t my scenes. Some of them are swishy and like to act fem. I try not to pay much attention to the person who’s attached to the cock I’m getting at, but the fem stuff is a turn off for me. Singles bars are usually too noisy and the people are so obviously looking for something that I just don’t like the vibes.
I like neighborhood bars, and that’s what I was at last night. There were about 20 people in the bar, mostly men. Most of them were splitting their attention between watching ESPN and bantering with the bartender or other people at the bar. Several of the men there looked like good prospects. I’ve already told you I’m not particularly picky-though I do sometimes get a hankering for a certain type. But mainly, I think of a good prospect as one I’m likely to be successful with.
And, though I’ve sometimes done more than one guy at a time, I really try to avoid that. Sometimes it leads to ass-fucking as the one who’s not in my mouth gets overly eager for some satisfaction. And, even when that doesn’t happen, the interpersonal dynamics are usually wrong. The guys are too into proving to each other that they aren’t gay. So, they get on power trips, holding my head and fucking my mouth like I’m a passive object or calling me demeaning names. I like being in control and I don’t like being abused. I’m convinced that the very same guy who would be abusive and controlling if he were playing to one of his buddies, is happy to let me take charge and incredibly grateful for my oral ministrations when it’s just the two of us.
So, I look for someone who looks as if he’s there alone. Of the likely prospects I scoped out last night, one was on the barstool right next to me. It turned out to be easy to strike up a conversation with him.
Ned looks to be about thirty-five, but turns out to be over forty. He has some boring job in a small company, has been married but divorced about five years ago, and now has a girl friend with whom things are just so-so. As it turns out, it is this last factor that provides the door. I suspect that right away, but it takes a little while for me to confirm it and even more for me to open that door.
I tell him a lot of stuff about me, almost all of it false. In a way, my lies are like those that millions of people tell prospective pick-ups; in a way, they’re very different. It wasn’t like I was lying to impress him-no, “I drive a Porsche” or “I’m Chief Legal Counsel of a major company” type lies. But, then, those sorts of lies aren’t the ones that further my ends. I tell a different kind of convenient lie. I tell him I’m married. I’m not, but I always wear a wedding band. It puts the “gaydar” way down. And, after he brings up his girlfriend, I tell him a little about my (nonexistent) wife. The main bit of information I want to convey-though it takes a long time for me to steer the conversation to the point where I can say this in a natural way-is that she’s really great in the sex department, even though we’ve been married for 15 years.
I tell him the old joke about the difference between a bride and a Hoover vacuum cleaner-after 10 years, the Hoover still sucks! I’m sure he’s heard it, but it gets the topic of oral sex on the table. I tell him that I married one of those rare Hoover wives. And, he reveals that the only thing he misses about his ex-wife, is her blowjobs. His current girlfriend isn’t into that.
Now he starts to open up. He doesn’t want to sound like a loser, so he quickly adds that he has a good sex life and his girlfriend does suck him sometimes, but only until he starts to get aroused and then she plays like she has to have him in her cunt soooo much-she just can’t wait another second. At first he was flattered. She was practically begging to be fucked. But now he sees it as just a ploy to avoid sucking him all the way off. He doesn’t say it in those words, but that’s the way he thinks about it. I can read between the lines. This guy’s yearning for a real blow job. Well, I think I can take care of that.
But I know I can’t just blurt out, “I’ll suck you off!” I have to bide me time and figure out when’s the best moment to try to go through the door he opened up just a crack.
We talk for a while and I find out that Ned’s not living with his girlfriend. In fact, she’s out of town for the weekend. He lives just around the corner-another reason for me to go to neighborhood bars. Now I just have to find a way to get myself invited over to his house-or a plausible excuse to invite myself.
This takes a bit of listening. Sometimes, in similar situations before, I’ve never found that excuse. Sometimes, desperate at the prospect of losing a target, I’ve resorted to simply leaving the bar when my prospect does, and offering to suck them off in my car. I don’t like to make the offer so crudely and I don’t like doing it in the car, but sometimes the offer works and sucking a cock in the car is better than not getting any cock at all.
As we talk, I learn that Ned’s into cars and still has an old Mustang-1968 convertible-that he bought used almost 20 years ago. He’s in the process of restoring it and I can tell he’s proud of it. Now, I don’t give a shit about cars. But, if feigning interest in cars gets me what I want, I’m good with that. I tell him that I used to own a 67 Mustang but an old girlfriend wrapped it around a telephone pole. I let him think I know a fair amount about cars in general and Mustangs in particular-though I’m at the very edge of my knowledge and worried that at any second I could say something that would lead to a raised eyebrow and general skepticism about me and my motives.
But the conversation goes pretty well and finally I decide to pop the question. “I’d love to see your Mustang” I say. (God, if only he’d hot-rodded his Mustang, I could have said, “I’d love to see your rod,” and spoken God’s honest truth.)
I can see the instant I finish the sentence that it’s going to work. He wants to show off his Mustang. So, we leave the bar and walk about a block to his house. As we go through the kitchen toward the garage, I ask if he has any whiskey or anything. I tell him I’m full of beer but I could use another drink. Actually, I don’t need anything more to drink-well, not anything more before I get his cock in my mouth-but I figure he’ll have one, too, and it can’t hurt to get him a little more loosened up before I make my move.
He has some really fine single-malt Scotch, as it turns out, so I’m happy I asked. We drink a bit on the way to the garage. I appropriately “Oooohhh” and “Aaahhh” when he opens the door and turns on the light. We walk around it and I let him take his time showing me every detail: what he’s done; what still needs to be done. I don’t care about all of this, of course, but I want him to drink a bit more.
He’s not getting drunk, but I can tell that the alcohol has had something of an effect on him and I decide to go for it.
“You know, about five or six years ago, my wife and I split for about six months. I got involved with a woman and I was having the exact same problem you are with your girlfriend,” I venture. “She was really pretty and we had sex a lot, but she wasn’t into oral sex-giving it, I mean.” I let it sit there to gauge his reaction. It’s a noncommittal grunt, but with an upward inflection that says, “go on.”
“Yeah, so it got really frustrating for me. At first, it just sort of nagged at me. But I started to feel really deprived and I began to be fixated on getting a blow job.” I pause for just a beat or two, “Ya know what I mean?”
Now I get more than a noncommittal grunt. He knows exactly what I mean.
“So, then something really weird happened.” I take another drink. “And I did something I’d never done in my life.” Now a dramatic pause. He’s hanging on my words.
“In fact, I’ve never even told another sole about this. Guess it doesn’t matter if I tell you. It’s not like we know each other or you’ll ever see me again.” I take another drink and don’t go on yet. It’s good to let the thought that he’ll never see me again sink in and I know he’ll wait as long as it takes for me to go on. He’ll prompt me if he has to. He’s hooked.
“So, what’d ya do?”
I suck down a little bit more of my Scotch. I want Ned to wait. “I met this guy-didn’t really know him-but we got to talking and I got real comfortable with him. After a while, I told him about my deprivation. He listened sympathetically and …” Time for another drag on my Scotch. It’s a great prop for teasing him with my story. He doesn’t say anything, though. He just waits for me to go on.
“And, he said…and I couldn’t believe that I’d heard him right…he said, ‘I’ll give you a blow job!'”
Ned looks at me really strange for a split second. I don’t let him think too long.
“So, when I was sure that I hadn’t misheard him, I tried to sort of laugh it off as if it was a joke. But he just kept looking at me and I realize that he’s serious.” Ned looks away. But it’s not because he’s not interested.
“So, whadya do?”
“I said, ‘What the hell? Why not?’ and got the best blowjob of my life.”
That gave Ned pause; I think he was pretty ambivalent about the story. He offered, “Gays make me feel uncomfortable. I never know whether they’re interested in me sexually.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I know what you mean. I’m the same way. But this guy was so not gay. He was married and seemed as straight as your or me.” Another drink. “Later he told me that he’d never done that but he’d thought about it sometimes and figured, why not then, with a guy he didn’t know and didn’t have to worry about running into later.”
“Hmmm. Well, I guess,” Ned mumbled and it was his turn to take a drink-mainly to avoid saying anything.
“So,” I offer tentatively, “what do you think?”
“What do I think about what?” He’s playing dumb but I don’t blame him. The embarrassment of being wrong by thinking that I’m offering to suck him off is much worse than the embarrassment of being thought slow to pick up on an offer.
“I’ll suck you off if you want.”
“No. You know, ever since he did that for me. There have been times-late at night if I can’t sleep or in a random moment-when I’ve wondered myself what it would be like.” I finish my Scotch. “I’ve never even touched a man before.” (Wow! Now there’s the biggest lie of the night-maybe of the century.) “But, I’m interested in trying it.”
Okay, now that takes the burden off of him. All he has to do is be willing to let me suck his cock. And it’s not as if I’m some sort of cock-hungry gay guy. I’m just a regular guy who is doing a little experimenting. Nothing threatening there.
“So, is it okay with you?” I ask.
“I guess.” He stammers a little. “Where?”
“Here’s fine I guess.” I’ve never given a guy a blowjob in a garage. And I’ve given lots of blow jobs. I put my jacket on the floor to cushion my knees and kneel down slowly in front of him.
One of the good things about doing this under the pretense of “never having done anything like this before” is that I have to go slowly and tentatively. I have to act like it really is my very first time, at least until I get into it. And that heightens the excitement.
He stand a little too far from me and so I pull him closer. I reach up tentatively toward his fly and unzip him. My hands are shaking a little bit. He doesn’t know it’s from excitement, not fear.
The guy has on whitey-tighties under his slacks so I don’t have to fake awkwardness at getting his cock out. I really have to fumble a little to get at it. He’s not hard yet, not even beginning to get hard. Some guys get hard at the mere thought of a blow job. Maybe Ned would if it were a woman doing it. Of course, if a woman were doing it, there would probably be some foreplay like kissing and petting. I hate that shit and, anyway, I don’t mind putting a soft cock in my mouth and making it swell up like a balloon. “Don’t mind!?!?!?!” Hell, I love it!
Ned’s dick isn’t that big. But you can never really tell when they’re soft. Some big dicks when they’re soft wind up no bigger than small dicks when both get hard. Black guys especially often have much larger soft cocks even when they don’t have gigantic hard dicks.
I look at Ned’s dick in my hand, trying to seem a bit tentative and reluctant even though I’m feeling ravenous. I bring my lips to it as if gingerly and gently put my tongue out to touch its tip. I touch it twice, pulling my tongue in after each contact. Then, I slide my tongue under the cockhead to caress the most sensitive spot. As my tongue slides along the underside of Ned’s cock, I feel his shaft begin to harden and I can hear him moan. I know there’s no turning back for Ned now. He wouldn’t care if I were gay, or a Martian. He wants my lips wrapped around his cock and he wouldn’t stop me no matter what until he’s shot his load.
Still, I take it kind of slowly. I don’t have to for his sake, but I like teasing myself and him a little, too. I pull back a bit. Maybe he thinks I’m changing my mind. That’s okay. If he does, he’ll be that much more grateful when I take him into my mouth. I reach into his pants and pull his balls out. It’s difficult with his jockey underpants, but when I get them out, it’s worth it. His balls aren’t too hairy, but they’ve got some nice fuzz on them. They’re nice sized with some weight to them. I think about all the sperm cells that he’s been making there that will soon be mixed with his semen and shot into my mouth. Strange things go through my head sometimes. I think about an individual sperm cell that is soon to be shot the length of his cock, right into the back of my mouth and swallowed down my throat into my eager stomach. I’m thinking this weird thought as I fondle his balls in one hand, gently rolling them between my thumb and fingers. I’m really looking forward to this. This guy’s going to bust a nut big time, and I’m going to reap the rewards.
As my fingers move to touch the sensitive skin behind his ball sack, I touch my lips to the tip of Ned’s cock. I slide my lips over his cockhead as I fondle his perineum. I feel that familiar, incredibly exciting feeling of a rapidly hardening cock sliding into my mouth, filling my mouth wonderfully.
In just a few strokes, Ned is completely hard. He has a nice size cock. It’s smooth and with a well-defined helmet. I like this kind of cock a lot. Well, I like all kinds of cocks a lot. But right now, this is the kind of cock I love the best-a cock that’s filling my mouth.
I try to maintain the ruse that this is the first time I’ve done this. It’s not as if Ned would stop me now. But I don’t want to weird him out because I’m hoping for seconds after he’s had a little time to recuperate. So, while I go at him pretty relentlessly, I try to repress my desire to moan with pleasure. But I’m feeling that pleasure. There’s nothing like the feeling of a hard cock sliding past your lips, filling your mouth, pounding against your throat.
Ned wasn’t trying to repress his moaning-or, if he was, he wasn’t succeeding. I heard him moan with pleasure. I sort of liked this. Like I’ve said, I didn’t really care much about the men attached to the cocks I was sucking. So, it wasn’t really that I liked to give these guys pleasure. But the moan was a sign that I was doing the cock right. It sort of made me feel powerful. It’s interesting that I’ve never felt more powerful than when I was on my knees with a hard cock in my mouth.
I was getting Ned near an orgasm and I wasn’t ready for it yet. I wasn’t certain that I was going to get a repeat performance tonight and I didn’t want the night’s sucking to be over yet. So, I pulled off his cock, making it look like I needed a break. Whatever muscles you need to develop in order to be able to suck cocks for a long time, I’d long since developed, but a first-timer could be forgiven for not being able to go too long without a short break. I knew that the break came at a bad time for Ned, but he couldn’t really complain.
“Sorry,” I said matter-of-factly. “My jaw is hurting.” He muttered that it was okay, but I knew he was just being polite.
After he’d come down a bit, I pressed on and was rewarded by a long moan as Ned’s cock again felt the warm wetness of my mouth. I started working him in earnest now. I had one hand wrapped around the base of his cock, squeezing him tightly and pumping up and down. My other hand was gently cupping his fuzzy balls. And, my lips were rhythmically sliding up and down his slick shaft. He was getting back up to a climax.
And, then, before I expected it, Ned roared and I felt the first spurt of cum hit the back of my throat. This was the climax. Not just for Ned. For me, too. You might not understand that. You might be trapped in the simplistic thought that, for a guy, a climax is when you cum-when you shoot your seed. Well, yeah, that’s a climax. But it’s a climax because it is the sudden release of sexual tension and energy accompanied by a flood of euphoria. I had all of that when Ned shot his load in my mouth. I didn’t shoot my wad. That’s not what sucking cock is about for me. Cocks aren’t some masturbatory device. They are to be savored and enjoyed for themselves. As my mouth’s ministrations bring a cock to the peak of sexual tension, my body is just as charged as when I’m on that path myself. And, when my lips and tongue finally coax a cock into sperm-spewing spasms, I feel an enormous relief and I’m aglow with pleasure.
I’m also swallowing spurt after spurt of hot, slick, salty cum. The feel of it hitting the back of my throat and the exquisite taste of it makes me start to moan in pleasure. Fortunately, I catch myself and I hope that Ned thinks it’s a groan of surprise.
“Sorry,” Ned says, misunderstanding my reaction, just as I’d hoped.
“That’s okay,” I mutter back. “It just sort of took me by surprise.”
“Take a drink of your Scotch,” he says helpfully. “That should help.”
Well, it wouldn’t help at all. It would just wash down the taste that I was now savoring in my mouth. But I grabbed the glass and pretended to take a sip. Even that diminished my enjoyment a little. The smell filled my nose and decreased my enjoyment of the salty reward I’d coxed from Ned’s cock.
Ned backed away and tucked his cock back in his pants. “That was incredible…Thanks.”
“Umm. Yeah. Sure.” I got up and picked up my jacket. “I always wondered what it had felt like to the guy who did me.”
“Well, what did it feel like?”
“Okay, I guess.” There was another big lie for the night. It had been great. I’ve already said that I never met (or sucked) a cock I didn’t like something about. But this was certainly one of the better experiences. (Though I wondered how much of that feeling was just based on the fact that it was the most recent. I had to confess that practically every time I finished sucking off a cock, I was convinced that it was one of the best cocks I’d ever had the pleasure of doing. Maybe I wasn’t the best objective judge when I was still aglow with the taste of some guy’s cum in my mouth. But, really, who cares about objective judging. This is all about subjective feeling. And, right now, I felt as if Ned’s cock was one of the best I’d ever sucked off.)
Ned started putting away his cock. “Well, I guess I should …” then he didn’t know how to finish. What he wanted to do was to get me out of there. He’d gotten his rocks off-and how-so now he wanted me gone. Some guys felt ashamed; some just felt awkward. I didn’t know what Ned was feeling but I wasn’t ready to be put out so soon. I still had my mind set on another go with his cock.
Before he could find a way to say, “I blew my load in your mouth, now get out of here,” I asked if I could have another glass of Scotch. How could he refuse? He was thinking, “this poor slob sucked me off and now he needs to wash the taste out of his mouth.” Of course, the poor slob was only willing to replace the taste of cum in his mouth with Scotch for the promise of more of the cum. But Ned grunted ‘yes’ and we went in to the house to repour our glasses.
With my glass refilled, I settled down comfortably and talked about whatever I could think of that had nothing to do with what happened. What I had to do now was to get his mind off of what we’d done and get him just feeling comfortable with me again.
It really didn’t take too long. We were both a bit tipsy and the additional drink relaxed us even more. We talked for about 45 minutes about women, work, and sports. (I was definitely at my limit there. My main sport is sucking cock and I couldn’t really talk about that.)
Ned was the one that brought the conversation back to the recent blowjob. It was when we were almost finished with the Scotch. Maybe enough time had passed that he was interested in a replay, too. Fine! That would make my work easier.
“So, really, you’d never done that before?”
“Are you kidding? Of course not!” I can lie pretty convincingly whether I’m sober or dunk. He didn’t say anything so I went on. “It wasn’t as bad as I’d expected.” (If that could mean that it was even better than I’d expected, then this was true.) “I don’t think I did a very good job. I was kind of nervous and, of course, it was my first time.”
“Well, then, you’ve got beginners’ luck,” Ned responded, “because it felt terrific! I’ve never felt anything better than that.” He paused. I imagined that he was recapturing the feeling. “It’s been so long since I’ve had a real blow job. I guess that one’s going to have to last me for a while.”
Okay, he was asking now. Shit, this was going to be easier than I thought.
“Well, don’t get used to it, because it’s not like it’s going to be a regular thing.” There, let him hang on that for a moment before I dangle the bait I know he’ll take. “But I’d do it again, now…one last time. Then, I’m out of here and we never see each other again.”
How could he say ‘no’? He couldn’t! At least he didn’t.
I got up, walked over to him and knelt down in front of him. He wasn’t going to stop me. It was all my show now. I pulled down his zipper and reached in through his fly to get his cock out. It was soft now, but still had some body to it. I pulled it out and let it lay on his lap for a while. Now I could take my time. I watched it lying there, sometimes twitching slightly in anticipation of my lips surrounding it. Well, I felt some twitching in my mouth, too. I knew what he was feeling; but he didn’t have any idea what I was feeling. I brushed my hand lightly over his cock, flipping it up so the sensitive underside was exposed. It twitched again. Then I ran my thumb, ever so gently, from the base of his cock up to the tip, lingering over the most sensitive part just below the helmet.
Ned’s cock was twitching and hardening quickly. I loved this. The sense of power was palpable. My touch was transforming this cock from a small, flaccid flap of flesh to a hot, hard rod. The transformation was almost complete as I brought my tongue to the base of his cock and used the tip of my tongue to retrace the line my thumb had just traveled. When my tongue toyed with that most sensitive spot, Ned’s cock jumped. I held it gently against his body, immobilizing it so that I could play my tongue over that spot as long as I wanted to tease him.
The sound of moaning and the feel of Ned’s hands on the side of my head, urging my lips onto his cock, gave evidence of the effect I was having. This cock was yearning for the feel of my lips surrounding it, my mouth enveloping it in its wet warmth. I was in control. I controlled whether and when this cock would get what it wanted so much. Fortunately for Ned, I didn’t plan to leave his cock unsatisfied-that would leave me without my satisfaction, too. And I had no intention of leaving unsatisfied.
I let his cock rise from his stomach and took him gently in my mouth. We both moaned in unison. Ned was so wrapped up in his reactions that I figured he wasn’t paying much attention to mine. But it didn’t matter now what he thought of me anyway. He certainly wasn’t going to stop me now and, when I was done, I was going to walk out the door and never see him again. I would have lots of cocks in my mouth in the future, but I’d never hold this cock between my lips again. And I intended to enjoy it now as much as possible, without holding anything back for appearances.
Ned’s cock was hard and hot, and very much in need of my mouth. I wasn’t going to deny him. I took him between my lips while I gently fondled his balls in my hand. These fuzzy wonders had already given up a load of sperm to me, but I was planning on coaxing another load from them. And I had a plan to get every bit that I could.
I was enjoying the feeling of Ned’s hard, hot, smooth cock sliding between my lips. But I could tell that he was getting close to an orgasm and I had plans that had to be carried out, so I backed away from him and told him to stand up. He sighed in frustration, but didn’t waste any time arguing. He got up and stood in front of the chair.
From this position, I could undo his pants and push them down so I could have really good access to him. I pushed them all the way off because I wanted to spread his legs, too. Ned would cooperate, even help, with whatever I wanted if I just stopped sucking him while I tried to do it. Anything to get my mouth back on his cock so he could shoot his load in me.
I had Ned just as I wanted him. Standing, naked from the waist down, with his cock hard and jutting out from his body, silently begging me to finish him off. And now I was ready to do just that. I was pumping his cock into my mouth with one hand and massaging his balls with the other. As I felt him getting closer, I moved my hand from his tightening ball sack and got my finger slick with the saliva and pre-cum that coated his cock.
I have no idea whether Ned knew what was coming. But I was planning on getting every drop of his cum before I left tonight. When my fingers were slick and slippery and Ned was nearing his orgasm, I slid my hand back to press my finger against his asshole. He kind of whimpered a protest and tried to move his ass away from my finger. But he couldn’t move too far without taking his cock out of my mouth, and he wasn’t about to do that. So, my finger slipped into his ass and I got it in far enough to feel his prostate.
At this point, timing is crucial. And I’m an expert at timing this. Just as Ned was on the verge of exploding, I thrust my finger hard into his ass and pressed down on his prostate. His first blast of semen was supercharged. Ned almost screamed out as he blasted the back of my mouth with his salty treat. But I wasn’t paying much attention to him. I was focused on the treat. And man was I getting it. The second blast felt as big as the first and, all in all, I got about five strong jets of cum. It was enough for a very satisfying swallow and to still have my mouth filled. I was having my cum and eating it, too. Could life get better than this?
When the faucet filling my mouth finally went dry, I pulled away and savored the taste and texture of the cum I’d coaxed from Ned’s cock. Cum really does taste different-not just from cock to cock, but from time to time from the same cock, depending on what the guy’s been eating or drinking. I felt as if I could taste the Scotch in this load, but that could have just been the aftertaste from the Scotch I’d been drinking. In any case, the overwhelming taste was that distinctive, delicious taste of cum. I savored it, rolling it back and forth over my tongue to experience it for a long, luscious moment. Finally, I swallowed, enjoying the feeling of the slick slime running down my throat.
Ned fell back into the chair. He was spent and his knees practically collapsed under him. I think if he’d been more conscious and not so wrapped up in his post-orgasmic ecstasy, he would have asked me if I wanted another drink. But he was almost unconscious. It didn’t matter to me. I didn’t want a drink of anything that I hadn’t just had. I left Ned in his chair and let myself out of the house. I walked back to the bar and got in my car to drive home. All the way, I was replaying the images, the feelings and the tastes from tonight. It was a great night. When I got home, I would masturbate while replaying these feelings one more time. I’d think through the seduction of Ned and the two great sucks I’d managed to get. As I worked through the events up to Ned’s last blast into my mouth, I’d hit my own climax. I always captured my cum to eat that, too. It wasn’t as exciting as getting it right from some strange cock, but there was no sense letting perfectly good cum go to waste.
Tomorrow it would be another cock that would make my day. But today, it was all about the one I’d just had.
So, that’s what you would have seen if you’d seen my entire night last night. You may still think I’m gay. If so, you’re stupid. I’m not attracted to members of my own sex; I’m attracted to my own sex’s members.
I’m not gay.