It may be hard to believe but my father was the last human being on the planet to get an iPhone. Motherfucker owned a flip phone through 2020, I kid you not.
"Hate those fucking things," he would growl. "All you kids live your lives looking at your phones. You look like a bunch of fucking monkeys."
He had a point.
But when the pandemic hit, his employer put out the mandate and so we masked up and I helped him buy his first iPhone.
"Don't understand why the fuck I need this shit. A phone is a fucking phone. Don't need a fucking computer in my pocket."
Some of it was an act. He LIKED being a Neanderthal. It was his brand, particularly at his job, where he also happened to be the meanest and most successful litigator on staff. By now his reputation preceded him, but back in the day the scruffy facial hair, the un-ironed shirt, the jeans and the flip-phone would lull his opponents into believing they were opposing a rube.
Several hours later, after he'd removed their testicles, they were begging for a settlement. And if they were stupid enough to go to court, he obliterated them. That's mostly because he could make every lady on the jury want to fuck him, and every dude on the jury want to be him.
Anyway - where was I? Oh yeah, the pandemic.
Well - it did a number on him. And on the marriage. We kids saw it coming a mile away but the parents didn't. And then they were forced to be alone in the house twenty-four-seven.
It rumbled apart after the first month of quarantine.
I give them credit. They started off evil, but that's mostly because my mom was so scared of my dad's lawyering capabilities. But he pulled in a female colleague, got my mom to sit down with her, and then they both stepped up and did what was best.
Dad wasn't interested in using his skills to screw the mother of his children. He was interested in doing the right thing. Mom was, too.
Us kids were on our own by then anyway. She kept the house. He moved to a swanky apartment downtown, close to his office, they split the assets and the family unit has never been stronger.
He didn't even get all jealous when one of his law partners started dating mom.
"He can have her," he would growl, but I saw the fringes of his anger - the neck muscles cording - the veins in his temple pumping.
I noticed shit like that. Not gonna lie: have had a thing for him for years - he was clueless about it, like he was clueless about a lot of shit that had nothing to do with the law. But, after he learned that my mom had started dating, he wasn't clueless about his own needs.
"Come on, buddy. Help me out. I can't ask your fucking sister. She's as uptight as your mother. And you're a gay - you gay dudes know what's hot and what's not. I see you on that Grindle thing all the time. Help me out."
Yeah. He said shit like that.
And every time he did I couldn't help but love him harder than I already did.
Fucker.
"Here - let me take a look."
I grabbed his phone and started swiping through his pics, most of which sucked.
"I'm gonna delete all the shitty ones and you can upload the rest - Jesus, dad!"
And there it was. The object of my dreams.
"Fuck," I whispered, too loudly. I looked up and the old man was grinning like a kid -
"What?" he said, stupidly.
"Dad - dude. A dick-pic?"
"Ya gotta show, kid. Don't they teach you that in Grindle School?"
"It's Grindr, not Grindl, you fuck-tard." Then I looked down again. There was a long pause between us and I felt the heat rise - at least I thought I did. He was too sly to show much of what he was feeling, after all those years in the courtroom.
"Sorry," he said, gruffly, standing, trying to take the phone from me. "You're right. This is something I should do on my own."
I pulled the phone away, standing up myself, turning my back to hide my hard.
"Fuck no," I growled right back at him. All his years of fatherhood had rubbed off on me. I knew how to exert my authority when I needed to. (And the time in the gym had helped, too. I wasn't about to let the old man be the only stud in the family.)
"I got this," I said, striding out to the kitchen. "Let's just do it in the light."
He followed - eventually - and the time allowed me to force myself soft - or at least, half-hard.
"So it's true," I said, when we sat down at the kitchen table.
"What's true?" he asked.
"You don't wear underwear."
"Fuck that shit. I hate underwear."
There was a pause while I fiddled with his phone, deleting, cropping, adding sepia-toned bullshit, and trying to forget the one pic I wanted to see again and again.
"It's why your mom divorced me."
"Seriously?" I asked, looking up, cross-examining him the way he used to cross-examine me when he was trying to get me to come out of the closet.
"Well - not really. But ... you know...kind of. She hated that. Hated my flip-phone. Hated my ... idiosyncrasies. Thirty years of idiosyncrasies can make you - you know ... tired."
"What did you hate?"
Again, I couldn't help myself. But he'd brought us up this way - to ask questions. Constantly. Until we got the necessary truth.
He looked at me, hard, contemplating his progeny. Then he crossed his arms and said, "I hated that she stopped fucking me."
I stayed silent. Another of his training modules.
"Sometimes the best thing to say, kid, is nothing at all," he would say. "If someone's talking, let them talk. That's when you have the most power - when you're listening."
"And she hated that I was horny all the time."
"So," I said, warming up to his revelations - and his vulnerability. "It was the right thing to do."
"Yeah," he nodded. There was more silence and then he said: "You knew that, didn't you? All of you? That it was over?"
"Yeah."
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"We talked about it - I mean, not Robbie - he's got his head so far up his ass - and anyway, he said it was your business, not ours. Cheryl and I talked - a lot."
Cheryl is my sister. Robbie my older brother. I was - am - the baby.
"And you know what? She may have talked to mom about it. She said she might and I told her she could, but you - well, you were too smart not to figure it out eventually, and you're also a fighter. We thought if we told you to end the marriage, you would fight to save it, and that would have been the worst thing in the world - for both of you - and for all of us."
"Motherfuckers," he whistled, after a seriously long silence where he fidgeted, uncharacteristically. "How the fuck did you get so wise?"
"Good genes, Daddy," I said, eyeing him the way I always wanted to, but hardly ever did. "Good fucking genes."
But then the moment got too tight, so I rose, taking charge.
"There's a few pics in here that are good - but I'm gonna take some more. Go get that hoodie of yours and meet me on the balcony.
He did as told, going back to puppy-mode, and emerged, hot as ever, in the hoodie. I took photos of him with the city lights in the background. I took photos of him seated, looking out at the skyline. I even coaxed him out of his shirts and got the salt-and-pepper chest hair that drove me crazy.
He was so fucking tight. I couldn't restrain myself. I whistled.
"How the fuck, pops? How the fuck you stay so trim?" I said, continuing to shoot.
"Keto," he grunted. "And the gym. Fuck - I'm not getting off. The gym is the only thing that keeps me sane."
"Gonna make sure you get off once this shit gets posted," I said, serious now about my mission. He was my dad - my dude - the man I loved more than any other. I could help him and I was gonna.
Finally, I said, "Alright, old man, give me some sexy."
"Dude - what?"
"Don't fuck with me - you got it and you know it. Show me the eyes."
He stood, blushing - almost sheepish. But then he took a deep breath of decisive air and turned, heading to the bedroom. I followed. When I got there he was on the bed, shirt off, hands behind his head, legs slightly spread. The eyes glistened. The damn snake of his tubed down his pantleg, half-hard. I clicked. Then clicked again. Then he threw his head back, closed his eyes, grabbed his junk, and I took more shots then he would ever need, promising myself I would figure out a way to get them out of his phone and into mine.
For a moment it all felt like destiny - like an opportunity. And I know y'all think that's what comes next, but it doesn't. That's not how shit rolls. And anyway, I was too wound up to think clearly - to truly consider the possibility of my dad fantasies coming true.
"That's it," I said. "I got what I need."
I split back to the kitchen and got to work. He approached about five minutes later - I wondered if he'd yanked one out or not, but figured it wasn't enough time. Maybe he'd been thinking about it though.
Who knew?
"What's the plan for tonight?" he asked, grabbing a beer from the fridge.
"Stayin' in - got to get you set up. This is gonna take some time -"
"Dude - kid - no. You don't have to. We only got a couple of days until you split - you shouldn't -"
"Shove it, daddy," I said, playfully. "This is more important than failing to score some pussy at your bar of choice, and more important than watching every dude at a gay bar try to get in your pants. Just order some pizza, put on the game, and let me work my magic, 'kay?"
He looked at me. I kept my eyes on the phone.
He kept looking at me. I looked up.
"What? Don't like being bossed around old man?"
"I should take you over my knee."
"And make my dreams come true," I said, not even knowing it was coming out of my mouth.
That stopped him in his tracks. We both reddened a bit, but then he busted out laughing - that huge laugh of his that - like everything else - made me love him even harder.
"I'll get the beer."
"And the pizza. You're rich."
"Not any more - that bitch -"
I stood. "That's my moms you're talking about," I growled, but it was mostly in jest ....
Mostly.
"I'll get the pizza," he said, smiling, giving me a wink, and killing me with his sexy.
Half an hour later we're on the couch - him watching the game, me doing final edits.
"What's your password?" I asked.
"Ain't giving you that," he said, not really paying attention.
"Dad - you want my help or not?"
"Goddamn," he grumbled. I could tell he was getting buzzy. "Here, let me." He grabbed the phone and typed, but as he typed, he spoke: "It's 'INEEDPUSSY' but the 'I' is a 1, the two 'E's' are 3's, and it's spelled 'P-U-5-5-Y'. Fucking snoop."
Then he handed me back the phone.
"You asked for help - "
"Which I already regret."
"Bullshit," I said, "Look at this."
And I turned the phone, showing the profile pic. It was the perfect evocation of him. A glint in the eye - a smile - but also exuding sex and confidence.
"Damn," he said, and then I kept swiping. His eyes got larger. "These are the private pics. Don't unlock unless you want what she's selling.
His face was glued to the phone now, leaning over the couch, hand on one of my knees. I could hear his breath, smell the remnants of his cologne. After a second, he said: "Where's the dick pic?" like that was the most normal thing in the world to say.
"Dad - come on. Aren't you the fucking attorney?"
"Huh?" he asked, holding my hand which held his phone, scrolling through the magic I had made on his profile page.
"You don't put a dick-pic in this profile - anywhere near it. You're prominent, Dad. And you probably have enemies. And tomorrow we're setting up two-factor authentication -"
"Two factor what now?"
I grabbed the phone back, and put in the finishing touches.
"We're keeping all dick-pics off this site - and any others you got going. If you want to send that, send it separately, but mostly you shouldn't - a fine ass fucker like you should get the date. If they want some cock, make 'em work for it."
"I like how you think," he said, going back to the game. "Problem is I'm so fucking horny -" and then the doorman called up about the pizza (and wings, and salad, and cheezy sticks) and he was off the couch.
I went to the profile page, checking his shitty description, thinking about what I could do to make it more ... real...more him. And that's when I saw it. He'd flagged the "Bi" tag. I figured that was a mistake, cuz the dude is so technologically inept - but then I scrolled down, and there, at the end, he'd written: "Oh and by the way... I'm mostly straight, but not entirely. Been a while since I hooked up with a dude - like thirty years. But I liked it then and sure as fuck would like it now. Curious? So am I. Hit me up."
My heart beat. My temperature rose. My cock twitched.
This was no toggle error.
And that's when he arrived with the pizza.
"You gonna just sit there, or get some plates from the kitchen?"
"Huh," I said, squinting at him.
"Kyle?"
"Yeah?"
"You okay?"
"Uh - yeah - hungry."
"Give me my phone, kid. Let's kick it. We can finish that shit up in the morning."
"One sec, Dad," I said, recovering myself. "Just one more thing to do." I headed for the kitchen, trying to act natural. Then I got my own phone, clicked a quick pic of his screen, checked his profile name one more time just to make sure I had it, and shut the app down.
Heading back to the living room with two more beers, plates, paper towels and forks, I called out: "Think fast, pops," tossing him the phone.
He was always athletic and he caught it out of the air, hardly looking.
"It's live now," I said, sitting next to him, closer than normal. I was buzzing - alive - aware - and unwilling to let any of that go. "You check later I bet all the honey's will be up in your grill."
"We'll see," he belched, finishing off his beer, shoving his face full of food, but grabbing my knee with his tight grip.
"Appreciate you, son," is what he said, his eyes showing the depth of his love. "I got lucky with you. Real real lucky." Then he reached over, slapped my chest like a man does. "Love you, Kyle," he said, meaning it. He had a way with the truth when he was telling it, and he was telling it now.
"Love you, too, dad," I said.
It was all I could say.
But what I imagined .... well ... you can imagine what I imagined.
We fed like fiends, watched the game and got drunk. It was a good night, but all I could think about - all I could consider - was what I was gonna do later - and whether I had the balls.
((((()))))
Did I mention we got fucked up?
Yeah. We got fucked up.
At one point he tried to convince me to head down to the corner bar - but fuck that. I was wasted and tired and horned up and not thinking clearly. Then we started giggling about his screen name:
1N33DPU55Y.
And then we had shots.
At which point he started to drift and so I helped his ass up and headed down the hall with him one arm wrapped around my shoulder, leaning into me.
He smelled so good - felt so tight - and he was so friendly.
"Really appreciate you, kid. Always have."
I laid him down.
"Where'smyphone," he giggled, and I pulled it out of my back pocket. "Checkin' fer the hotties," he said, tryin' to grab at it, but I put it on the bedside table.
"Maybe later, pops. Not a good idea to drunk-scroll."
"Got it," he said, giving me the "OK" sign, and then I turned, heading out the door.
"Sleep well, old man," I said.
"Hey - Kyle," he barked. I turned - that tone always got us kids to snap-to.
"Gonna kiss yer ol man goo'night?" He giggled when he said it, but his eyes sparkled, and he struck the same pose as he had before, during our photo shoot.
So ... yeah. I went for it. Not aggressively. Not obviously - but it wasn't a little peck, either.
"Course I will, dad," I said in a whisper, approaching him. The bedside light was on and I flicked it off. His phone cast a dim, pale hue that heightened the tension in the room.
"Love you, dad," i said, bending down, putting my lips on his. I left them there, and he grunted a soft sigh, pushing up into my mouth. There was a moist flick - from one or both of us. Then, he pulled back, eyes intense - full of male need and paternal power. The drunk dropped from his lids and he looked at me as I was.
Did he see my own love - my own need? Did he see my erection when I stood, trying to hide it from him? Did he suck in the pheromones that poured from my young drunk frame?
Not sure.
But he did say, "Love you, too, Kylie. Love you, too." It was a quiet rumble - a tone that gripped my center and held it with strength and understanding.
"Good night, daddy," I said.
"Good night, baby boy," he replied, lying back, turning on his side, eyes following me out the door.
I stumbled to the bathroom, yanking out my cock and spraying half the damn toilet with beer-piss before I got it under control. Then, I splashed my face with water and headed to the guest room - the one right next to his - ripped off my clothes and crawled on the bed. I was breathing heavily. My cock had softened, but barely. The room spun a bit, but mostly all I could think about was his profile:
"...Been a while since I hooked up with a dude - like thirty years. But I liked it then and sure as fuck would like it now. Curious? So am I. Hit me up."
this is something i hear a lot, and i'm not gonna lie. i love hearing it, each and every time. whether it's from a spit-soaked face uttering these words in between gasps for air or when i'm zipping up my jeans after stretching out their throat, hearing this always makes me crack a smile. i fucking love it.
maybe that's why i'm a "feeder", as they say. when you have a dick as perfect as mine, and you're told you do almost every single time it's being enjoyed, you should definitely share it as much as you can. it'd be a shame to keep it tucked away in these briefs, letting it out for only myself and/or solely one other person. a cock like mine needs to fill as many hungry mouths as it can, and give these guys the rush they crave. and, well, the rush i crave, haha. hearing how much the man at my knees wants and admires the big boner swaying at his gaped lips is such a fucking turn-on.
i have no shame in the ego i attach to my dick. it is truly perfect. just the right length for "comfortable" throating at seven inches and just the right girth for filling a mouth while still sliding further and further easily. and it's pretty. nice-sized head proportionate with the shaft, a meaty hood of foreskin that covers just the base of the head, and a bulging vein running down the right side when fully erect. a big thick dark bush of hair surrounds it all. it really turns me on when i can hear and feel a guy inhaling the day's musk once his nose gets buried in it, my cock completely in his mouth.
"take your time, i want you to enjoy it" is something i catch myself saying a lot to a cocksucker once his tongue and lips touch it. and trust me, they listen. i like to think its because they know a treat when they see and taste one. that my cock is that rare balance between being pleasing to the eye, the tongue, and the throat, and i'm exactly the guy who knows how to use it to fulfill their fantasies of total submission.
it's all about reading cues: how eagerly are they sinking that cock down inside them, are they breathing heavily or moaning, do they keep pulling your thighs forward from behind, so on and so forth. and i always make sure to ask if they like my dick, to which they either nod immediately with a mouthful or say "yes" in a lusty breath with my hard-on waiting for more right in front of them. it's all so much fucking fun and a huge turn-on. even though getting sucked is all about me and my own pleasure, i still have to keep my cocksuckers encouraged along the way. or at least that's always made them suck deeper and hotter in my experience.
flattery will get you everywhere with me, haha. and i bet so with a lot of other feeders out there. tell us what you love about our cocks, what you love about how we're feeding it to you. i can't help but get even more pleasure out of knowing you are, too. my perfect cock is here to satisfy, just as you're there on your faggot knees to satisfy me. now suck it. slowly and as deep as you can take it. i want you to enjoy every inch of me.
i have a love/hate relationship with gloryholes... maybe. haha. but for real, as fun and amazing as they can be, i also find them kinda frustrating. but in the best, hottest way possible, of course.
the anonymity of them isn't what bothers me. i mean, that's the whole point, duh. and that might just be the best part about them, sure. i'm not really all that picky with looks or age when it comes to who's sucking my dick. a good cocksucker is a good cocksucker, and oral skills always take precedence over anything else. not knowing who exactly is able to twist that tongue so evenly and smoothly around the head of my cock or know just the right amount of time to let it push against the soft sweetspot at the back of the throat is super hot and very exciting. my imagination runs wild, filling in all the blanks i can't see, and even things i wouldn't necessarily know if i could see them sucking me: when's the last time they were fed a load, is their throat already coated with cum from a sucking binge, are they fingering their hole imagining the cock they're sucking sinking its way inside, etc. things like that. anonymity is all good and hot with me.
so what frustrates me when getting sucked at a gloryhole? well, i think it boils down to not being able to see them, haha. it's a contradiction. can i watch them swallow my cock and let them keep their identity secret? of course, that's basically how a lot of my cocksuckings work. but i really, really love watching them enjoy me. that is a huge part of what turns me on. seeing when they close their eyes as their mouth takes well past half my dick, noticing how their neck muscles strain and flex once i get to the very back of their throat, and even sometimes how their eyes open wide with shock when they feel me slide further inside than they thought i could. all so fucking hot and sexy. the best is when they stop swallowing me, pull back, and take a long moment to just stare at the big, glistening boner swaying right in front of their faggot mouth. "fuuuck" they often say under their breath, and it drives me wild. it's worship. it's admiration of what i got. it's them letting go, letting themselves be a subservient throat for me to take as i please. their eyes get both laser-focused on my dick and lost with that drunken look of desire. that's when i know they are pleased, and that pleases me.
but a thin plywood wall blocks all of that, and it frustrates me. there's been a couple times at the peak of my cocksucker working me into a frenzy where i punched the wall separating us out of this frustration, haha. honestly i think it only turned them on even more. it also has everything to do with me not being able to reach my hand around to the back of their head to grab it tight, guiding it further down my cock slowly and firmly. i also love crouching down with my dick still in their mouth to softly speak in their ear, telling them how good they feel wrapping around me, and how good of a cocksucker they're being. they love it, and that gets taken out of the mix at a gloryhole. now i've seen some setups that do have larger cutouts for arms and hands to go through, but i've yet to visit one. sounds like that would definitely take some of my frustrations away, haha.
but like i said earlier, skills take precedence, and when a cocksucker demonstrates considerable talent, any amount of plywood can come between us. and don't get me wrong, i still visit a gloryhole now and then and enjoy every minute of it. sometimes it's a quick unload, sometimes i like to get poppered up and let them feast for a good hour on every inch of me. but either way, and even with an empty sack and wet cum spot growing on the front of my briefs, i still leave frustrated... which is probably why i keep going back.
As many other faggots know, Craigslist is a great way to find regular feeders. I’ve tried many ads over the years, and this ad is the one that works the best for me.
I am an experienced cocksucker, dedicated to sucking men off. A good cocksucker is different than a gf or wife. For example:
1) A good cocksucker does not require any reciprocation. The focus is 100% on your cock.
2) A good cocksucker always keeps sucking when you start cumming until you have emptied every drop and then he swallows the lot
3) Once you cum, a good cocksucker knows it’s over.
4) You can text a good cocksucker for service at your conveinence. It’s up to you when you want to get blown.
5) A good cocksucker has a place to host, that’s private, clean, and comfortable with a nice selection of porn and amyl available.
6) When not sucking your dick, a good cocksucker leaves you alone and doesn’t hassle you.
7) A good cocksucker can suck for as long as you want. And takes direction and sucks your cock the way you like it serviced.
8) A good cocksucker always shows the utmost respect and exercises complete discretion.
9) And a good cocksucker doesn’t need to know your name, where you work or live.
A good cocksucker like that can serve a man’s needs very well. If you are the kind of guy who would enjoy a cocksucker like that, please feel free to get in touch.
most of the time, i’m just a bit more open to the personable, affectionate side with my cocksuckers, but this is a solid list of things i need out of a good throat. and craigslist is a gold mine for us “feeders”, once you learn what to avoid and what to look for in an ad. i’d definitely reply to this!
Your sight made my dick so hard. Looking at all the throats getting fucked makes me so horny. I need my face fucked hard right now. A BBC would be great.
fuck, there are some days i walk around this office semi-hard from the morning through the whole afternoon, all the while thinking about slowly sliding my dick deep into a tight, eager throat. it’s maddening.
especially when your regulars aren’t available or they’re out of town. holding onto this load is rough, but man, i’d hate to just waste it, busting all over the living room floor or my bedsheets. every time i do, i can’t help but look at the quantity of cum i just shot and feel a little bummed. it belongs down the gullet of someone who’s worked long and hard to get it, someone who wants it spraying against the back of their throat just to make them gag and choke. but all the while not spilling one single drop. they know it’s far too precious to lose.
ugh. my slacks get real tight in the front this time of day. anyone else always feel the same way late afternoon? can’t decide if i should sneak off to the restroom and let it rip, or drive myself bananas over the next few days waiting for the next mouth i use to finally present itself.
Life-giving. The firmness of a cock in your mouth and throat feels powerful. The warmth of the engorged cockflesh feels comforting. The velvety and spongy texture of the cockhead is satisfying and even sort of “fun” to play with; it has good “mouthfeel,” to borrow a culinary phrase. Imagine putting a loaded gun into your mouth, and how intense, heavy and consequential — yet also extremely delicate and fragile — it would feel. Unlike a gun, however, it isn’t scary and won’t kill you; rather, it’s enticing and will make you feel alive. As best as i can put it, that’s how it feels to suck a cock.
I am disappointed @raunchysub does not discuss the most important part pf what it is like to suck cock: the pleasure you bring to the man you are serving. For a real sub, knowing you are responsible for a man’s pleasure should be far more important that the physical feel or taste of his cock.
now that i had at this point found a taste for the kind of cocksucking only a guy could give, it was only a matter of time before i had found a regular. pussy isn’t always easy to come by, and neither is a woman willing to suck as much as i want and who’s good at it too, haha. so, i started on the path to finding someone who could take care of my cock in between hookups and girlfriends.
going to arcades wasn’t as surefire a thing as i needed, and that one teenage kid who i gave a “birthday present” to couldn’t play as often as i’d like. not to mention it probably wasn’t the best idea to keep on with that, haha. so, i went hunting on craigslist again. of course ads looking for a quick one-off are a dime a dozen, and so are ones asking for a regular thing. but finding someone wanting to deepthroat—and actually mean that—proved tougher than i thought. after trying a couple guys out, and finding they couldn’t really take my cock the way i needed, i learned to scrutinize a lot from ads, responses, and the like. most guys wouldn’t bother replying to all what i was asking, and i get that. i’m sure i came across as a real pain in the ass, haha. but i didn’t care. i wanted to make sure the next guy was going to do exactly what i told him to, and really let his inhibitions down and that throat open.
and i finally found that first faggot—as he wanted to be called—after a long, detailed exchange back and forth about all things cocksucking. talking to this guy over email was such a huge turn-on for me. he really was my first outlet for hearing out what a faggot wants and what they want to be for the man they suck, and i found all of it to be really fucking hot. the dick pics i sent are what sealed the deal i’m sure, as he was pretty determined to get his mouth around my cock right after seeing them. he promised me he could take all seven inches of my boner into his head and hold it there for as long as i wanted. the idea of that instantly got me hard every time i thought about it leading up to the afternoon we both had some free time.
he was about five or so years older than me at that time, so i’d say early thirties. the “retired” jock type, with the kind of thick but softened build you could only get from working out a lot in your twenties. age was definitely kind to this guy, don’t get me wrong. and even though i fully understood i was going to be the one calling the shots that day, there was still something kind of intimidating about him. i guess what i mean by that is he’d definitely beat me in a wrestling match, haha. but yet here he was, wanting nothing more than to deepthroat my dick.
he’d told me to just enter his house that day, that he’d leave the door unlocked. to go down the short hall and make the first left into what what was probably a guest bedroom. he was already on his knees as he said he’d be, shades drawn so the room was dark. he looked exactly like he’d shown in his pics. perfect.
“hey bud, what’s goin on,” he said. “welcome.”
i smirked, said hello, and slipped off my sneakers as i walked toward him. his eyes went directly for my bulge behind my jeans as i unfastened them. i walked right up to him, my growing cock just inches from his face. i could hear him inhaling long and loud, probably trying to pick up my scent. i dropped my pants but left my gray briefs on. he was fixed on it for awhile and then looked up at me with his heavy, manly brow raised up, eager for my command.
“is this what you wanted?” he nodded immediately. “is it? huh? tell me you want this cock, faggot. i want to hear you say it.“
"yes, i really want that cock. i need that cock.”
i liked making him wait for it, rubbing it through my briefs to get it bigger and tease him with what he couldn’t have until i said he could. and while all of this was somewhat new to me, it all felt natural. i finally peeled my underwear off and let my dick swing out in full mast, hitting him in the face just an inch away from his mouth. and to my delight, he didn’t pounce on it. he left it there against his warm cheek, waiting patiently like a good faggot. i stepped out of my briefs and jeans resting at my feet, cause i knew i’d be spreading my legs in a squat to pound his mouth.
“i want you to open that mouth as wide as you can, faggot. i want in that throat all at once. and you better be ready for it.”
i didn’t have to tell him twice. open it went, and his big, broad tongue came sticking out to catch me. even in the dim light i could still see straight down his gullet as i grabbed the sides of his head firm in my hands to mount his face. my dick finally touched his tongue, his hot breath on it getting faster as i gradually slid it inside him further and further. something about this moment just came over me, and i kept on sinking that cock in one swoop until i couldn’t go any further. i remember he sat up, alert and surprised, once i hit the back of his throat, but he didn’t choke or struggle. he grabbed onto the back of my thighs and stayed there, holding me deep inside his skull, obedient and concerned with nothing more than my pleasure. and fuck did that soft spot way down in his esophagus feel so sweet, like finding the ripest inner part of a peach. he knew that’s what i was after.
it was a while before he started coughing against me filling up his whole mouth, and i pulled all the way out to let him have his air. the faggot earned it. “fuck yeah,” i said to him, and he smiled, breathing heavily. i grabbed his head tight again, his mouth opened wide, and down went my hard, wet cock again with ease. that’s when i really went for it and began pounding that faggot’s hole, presented to me without protest. he took every thrust like a champ, and wouldn’t fight me holding the head of my throbbing cock against the slick tightness of his esophagus. i could’ve held myself there for hours.
but it proved to feel too good, and i shot my cum after a somewhat short while. he loved every drop of it in and around his puffy, fucked mouth. “thank you,” he said as he kissed around the base of my shaft, me spent and dazed by the whole experience. needless to say he became my first real faggot to use whenever i wanted. which was pretty damn often for awhile after that, haha. he never complained. i just had to make sure i called him by his name.
he eventually sold his house and moved out of state for a job or something along those lines, but we played for a good two years or so. it was through him that i really began to understand what it was about getting my dick sucked that makes it such an undeniable turn-on for me. it is about the dominance over a guy, and if he wants to see himself as a faggot good for only one thing, then so be it. i’ll give it to him.
vaporwave
origamiaround
kianamaiart
prguitarman
tangentwithtanner
snowghoul
kaledo-art
