A Cocksucker’s Journey

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My first story. I hope you send feedback. Please be critical. Be cruel if you must. I can take it. In order to improve, I need to know what you like and don’t like, what you love and what you hate.

I have doubts about some stylistic liberties I have taken. Interested to see if you pick up on them and what your reaction is.

And I wonder if I have included too much or too little character development. Let me know what you think.

I would like to continue this story, but that depends on your reaction to this first installment.


I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Sweet, sexy Kevin has just shot a load of deliciously gooey cum in my mouth… three or four moaning, hip-thrusting ropes of greasy jizz that have that wonderfully bitter, salty taste that I crave.

I’m aware of the time, and that I have a movie date with Michael, the man I love and cherish, in less than an hour. But first things first…

I keep working Kevin’s cock, swirling my cum-coated tongue over its throbbing head, hoping to suck yet another drop or two from his slit. I try not to swallow because I know Kev will want to swap in a minute; scooping his cum out of my mouth with his hungry tongue and then dribbling it on my cheeks and chin and lips. When we’re finished with those long minutes of feverish, sticky kisses, both our faces will be covered with a sheen of glistening semen, and that uniquely pungent odor of man juice will hang in the bedroom air. It has become one of our rituals. It dominates my fantasies when we’re apart; he relives each session in graphic detail when we talk on the phone during the day.

How can I give this up? More to the point, how can I tell him that we may have to put an end to this delicious perversity?


I chased Michael for two months before we made a connection. Two months of flirting, touching, whispers, calls and emails, lame excuses to spend a few precious minutes together. I still remember in vivid detail the first time we kissed. I can still feel it, taste it. And I still revel in the fact that he didn’t resist, that he melted in my arms, his face upturned, his soft, warm lips seeking mine. Soft moans, labored breathing, our thighs pressed tight against each other, my cock hardening in a flash, me wondering, but not really caring, if I was going to cream in my pants.

We have been together for about six months now and Michael has lately been mentioning New York’s gay marriage law. The idea of marriage intrigues and excites me. That degree of commitment also scares the hell out of me and the last few weeks with Kevin “on the side” make me wonder if I’m really ready to settle down with a permanent partner. I’ve suggested several times that Michael and I should think about living together, sharing more than just a nighttime and weekend bed. Kind of like a pre-marriage dress rehearsal. Now I’m not so sure.

We work for the same agency; he’s full-time and I’m a part-timer with my own home-based graphic arts and web design shop on the side. He trained me on the company’s Macs and peripherals and I crushed on him from the very first day. Michael is a fem. He tries to tone it down a bit at work and when we’re out, but he’s not really fooling anyone. The way he walks, the way he gestures with his hands, the way he sits in a chair with his knees tight together… when we’re together on the street or in a store, I catch the occasional looks we get that say, “Yep… he must be the wife.”

The wife of my dreams, I had thought. He sucks my cock with passion and enthusiasm and his appetite for my cum is insatiable. In bed he is romantic, alternately cloying and flirtatious, sensual and naughty. When I slurp and swallow his perfectly proportioned cock, he engages a non-stop monologue of dirty talk. When I fuck him, he cries in ecstasy and slams his butt back against my dick, so my rod buries to the max in his warm, wet, tight asshole.

So what am I doing here with Kevin’s semen dripping off my chin?


I’ve known Kevin for 15 years. We worked together for a awhile way back. Lost track of each other for a time, then started bumping into each other on the street, in the supermarket, at the bank. I’ve known all along that he is committed to an out-of-state boyfriend (Eric), whom he visits almost every weekend, at his parents’ summer cottage on the Cape. He is one of the sweetest, kindest people I know and I admit to occasionally checking out his cute little behind as he walked away after one of our brief and casual encounters.

It’s a Thursday night — acoustic night — at the popular gay lounge in our college town. I’m there alone to listen to some live music and socialize with a few friends and acquaintances. Michael’s night class ends at 10 and he’ll probably stop by on his way home. I’m hoping we go back to my place; I’d love to give him one of my special rim jobs. I know he liked it last time…

I’m standing in a corner with a college sophomore canlı bahis şirketleri who doesn’t know he has no chance of getting into my pants when I spot Kevin standing by the bar. We smile and wave, he says something to the guy to his left, then winds his way through the tables to where I’m standing. We hug and I kiss his cheek. He surprises me when he doesn’t move away, but wraps his arms around my waist, pulls me closer and plants a soft, sweet three-second kiss on my lips. My arms snake around his neck and we both smile as our lips part.

— I can’t believe it’s taken you 20 years to kiss me!

“Seems we always meet at the market,” said Kevin. “I didn’t think a kiss in the checkout line would sit too well with the retired set.”

I gave him a quick but gentle kiss on the lips and said “It was worth the wait.”

When I had to (gently) pry Kevin’s arms from around my waist, I realized he was enjoying a two-drink buzz. His speech was a bit slurred when he offered to get us a fresh round while I staked out an empty booth near the back.

We talked for awhile about recent news and events and activities. The crowd was small and quiet, the music rhythmic and relaxing. Part of me wished Michael was here to enjoy the atmosphere; part of me was grateful for the time alone with Kevin.

— Are you going to the Cape this weekend?

“Saturday morning, probably,” he replied.

— You’ll see Eric?

“Guess I’ll have to,” he said, somewhat sarcastically.

Surprised by that comment, I wondered if there was trouble in paradise.

“We’ve been drifting apart,” Kevin said. “I don’t much look forward to our weekends anymore.”

— Something happen?

“Nothing specific. A general inevitable deterioration.” Kevin leaned closer, ran a finger lightly from my earlobe down my neck and said, “When we kissed a little while ago, that was the first time for me in months.”

Surprised, I tried to be funny.

— So… what… he had a cut on his lip that wouldn’t heal?

Kevin laughed, kind of. “He doesn’t like a lot of physical contact, unless it’s shoving his dick in my mouth. And that’s all we do when we get together. I’m just his loyal weekend cocksucker.” Kevin turned away and studied the room. “Let’s talk about something else…”

— Kevin… sweetie… I didn’t mean to be a wiseass. I don’t want to upset you, but if you want to talk I’m a great listener.

I put my arm around his shoulder and moved into him so we were leaning against each other.

“A great kisser and a great listener,” Kevin said, resting his chin on my shoulder. “What else are you great at?”

I knew he was pretty stoned by then and making advances he’d surely regret tomorrow. But I was buzzing too, so I thought… whatthefuck…

— I’m told I’m a great cocksucker. It’d be nice to show you sometime.

I couldn’t believe I said that… regretted it almost immediately, but just as quickly realized how aroused I was by my bold proposition.

Aroused even more when our lips met. Kevin started to pull away but I pressed closer and he responded by making a funny little noise and parting his lips just enough so our tongues had room to touch and, briefly, dance.

I had my arms around his neck, his around my waist as we contorted in the narrow booth. He looked me in the eye. “I think you might be forgetting something,” he said, smiling.

— I wouldn’t be surprised.

“Michael will be here in… what… 20 minutes? Maybe sooner?”

I guess I had forgotten.

— Well, I wasn’t suggesting I go down on you here and now. Besides, I’d need a good hour before I’d let you cum.

“You bitch!” he whispered, pulling me into a hug. “Be careful… I might start taking you seriously.”

I gave him a sly grin before he said, “I don’t want to be here when Michael arrives. I’m calling it a night.”

He started to slide out of the booth, stopped and turned and gave a me a quick kiss, then stood. “Call me if you want.” I smiled, nodded; he weaved through the tables and went out the door.


So here we are, two weeks later. Curled up on Kevin’s bed, my cock hard and throbbing, his flaccid and spent.

I have 30 minutes to get home, shower (wash the cum off my face) and pick up Michael at his place for our movie date.

“I wish I could make you cum,” Kevin murmured, moving to his knees and planting kisses down my chest, to my abdomen, then to the base of my cock. He took the head in his mouth, but I squirmed away and rolled to the edge of the bed.

— Next time, hon. I promise. Michael will be expecting a big load tonight.

Kevin knows, and accepts, the drill. He makes a face and stretches languidly across the bed while I pull on my briefs and t-shirt and step into my pants. We kiss quickly before I’m out the door, in my car and on the way home.


I got home, showered, changed and made it to Michael’s apartment with minutes to spare. He looked canlı kaçak iddaa wonderful in a dark brown pullover and tight, white cargo pants that defined and accentuated the crack in his ass. We kissed for a long time while I caressed his behind, then scooted out the door and headed for the theater. It was crowded but we didn’t see anyone we knew. We held hands as the line made its way to the ticket booth and then the lobby. I remember thinking how nice it was to be out with someone you loved, proud to be seen with him, glad to be queer and (mostly) accepted and (hopefully) ignored.

The movie wasn’t all that great — action (most of it improbable), noise, special effects — so by the time we got back to Michael’s place, we had pretty much forgotten about it. But I didn’t forget about my rimming fantasy. As we made ourselves comfortable, I told Michael how much I would love eating his hole tonight.

“I was hoping maybe you’d be in the mood for that,” he giggled. “Will you fuck me too?”

— Of course I’ll fuck my baby! It’s been at the top of today’s bucket list.”

“C’mon,” he said, taking my hand and pulling me up from the couch. We flicked off some lights in the living room and kept the lights dim in the bedroom. I pulled Michael close, unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned and lowered his zipper, and slid his cargo pants down to his ankles. He stepped quickly out of his pants and pulled his shirt over his head while I stripped at the same time. He grinned when I slid my briefs down my legs, my almost-erect cock springing to freedom, then he gave me a little pose and wiggle and seductively tugged his baby-blue-and-white bikini panties off his hips. He laid back on the bed, cock already wet and glistening, waited while I yanked his panties off the rest of the way, then spread his legs wide. I dropped to my knees at the edge of the bed and buried my face between his legs, kissing and licking his balls, sliding my tongue up the length of his shaft before slipping the purple-tinted head between my lips. I luxuriated in the taste and feel of Michael’s cock, using my tongue to explore its length and tickle the sensitive cleft at the underside of his cockhead. He gasped quietly once or twice, thrust his hips to fuck my mouth, then pulled away…

“You’re going to make me cum too soon!”

I led him to the bathroom where we used some warm soapy washcloths to “freshen up”, kissing all the while. He moaned when I fed a soapy finger into his hole. Embracing, he returned the favor, reaching around and plunging a forefinger deep inside me.

“I think we’re ready,” I said, sliding my finger in and out of his tight little hole. We dried off quickly and headed back to the bedroom, where Michael took over, pushing me onto the bed and rolling me onto my stomach. Kneeling behind me, his hands spread my ass cheeks and he buried his face in my crack. I could have passed out as his tongue flicked at my anus; it was even more wonderful when he pushed the tip of his tongue into my anxious hole, and rotated it around the inside edges of the opening. Michael doesn’t rim me often, but when he does it is glorious! He kept flicking, and licking and probing before falling off to the side and, with a satisfied grin, said, “Now it’s your turn.”

I kissed him deeply, sucking his tongue into my mouth, savoring the musky taste of my asshole that lingered there. He rolled over onto his stomach, spread his legs, reached behind him with his hands to spread his cheeks, and presented his dark, puckered rosebud for the onslaught that was to come.

I started by planting kisses up and down his crack; some brief and gentle, others more lingering and urgent. I concentrated on his hole, kissing and frenching it with loud, wet kissing noises. Then I licked his crack from the bottom of his balls to the top. At first, slowly up the length of his crack, long, wet licks that left him moaning, then — like a big friendly dog — lapping faster and faster at his asshole, wet sloppy licks, all the while savoring the taste and scent of his most private area. Then, finally, I buried my lips hard against his little puckered hole and chewed and licked with relentless urgency… Michael’s moans mixed with my muffled grunts as I ate his asshole like it was my first meal in a month.

“You fucker,” he gasped, when I finally lifted my face out of his dripping, steamy crack. “You fucker! Don’t stop… eat my cunt some more… please baby, eat my cunt some more.”

I laughed and although my tongue felt like it would fall off, I buried my face in Michael’s cute little ass and repeated it all… the kisses and long, languid licks, then faster and sloppier as my doggie tongue attacked his hole… and finally long minutes of chewing his brown bud, stabbing my tongue in as deep as it would go…

Michael was moaning and panting, and I was near delirious with lust and passion, my cock as rock-hard as it’s ever been. I moved up so I covered his back, my dick poised and pointed at his asshole. I pushed once, stretching his canlı kaçak bahis opening as my cockhead slid just a half inch into his hole…

“Wait, wait, wait,” Michael said, his left arm snaking out to our bed table, where he grabbed the bottle of AstroGlide. “Lube, lube, lube,” he panted. I was laughing out loud as I grabbed the bottle, snapped the cap and doused my dick with the clear lubricant. Once again, I guided my cock to his hole, then pushed slowly as my meat slid inside him. The head popped in and he grunted, then slowly I worked my cock in and out, with each push entering deeper inside him until I could feel my balls slapping at his backside. I stayed there for a moment, reveling in the incredible feeling of my cock encased within my lover, loving it when he clenched his cheeks and held me in a vise-like grip. Michael relaxed again, and I began stroking… long slow thrusts deep inside, then faster and still deep as he urged me on. Fucking my man, pounding his tight asshole, I knew I wouldn’t last much longer… and I didn’t. Overcome by an incredible orgasmic wave, I exploded inside him, heart pounding, my cock shooting streams of semen over and over again, diminishing but not ending, until finally the contractions eased and, panting with exertion and excitement, I rested on top of my lover, my cock gradually softening until it slipped unceremoniously from his ravaged hole, followed by a mini-waterfall of cum dripping into a pool on the bedsheet.

It wasn’t until we curled up side by side, breathing heavily, that I noticed the silence and realized how much noise we had been making. Moans and grunts and entreaties as we fucked; the repetitious “fuckmefuckmefuckme!!” from Michael; “Fuckingcuntfuckinghotlittlecuntfuckyourlittlehole!!” from me as I slammed his butt. Now, quiet dominated, neither of us finding the words to describe the intensity and passion that defined our lovemaking.

Later, much later, removed to the sofa in the living room, still naked, entwined in a gentle embrace, we kissed and talked.

“I’ve never been fucked like that,” he said.

— Get used to it.

“I will. Next time don’t cum so fast,” he teased.

— I tried, but you were so warm and tight and slippery…

“Mmmm… so I’m your perfect little pussy?”

— You’re my perfect little everything!”

And so it went, until I realized…

— You need to cum, my dear.

We untangled and Michael leaned back along the length of the sofa, his head against the armrest, his legs splayed, his cock hard and stretched and bobbing. I took it in my hand, took the head between my lips and flicked my tongue along the underside. Slowly I sucked it into my mouth, inching down its length until it plugged my throat and his light brown pubic hairs tickled my nose. Then I inched back until I had half of his fleshy tube in my mouth, then began bobbing my head, jerking him off with my mouth, slurping at his cockhead with my tongue, until he tensed, arched his back, thrust with his hips and shot three creamy ropes of jizz into my mouth. Some dribbled out of my mouth and down my chin as I worked his cock for the few remaining spurts, then I let his dick pop out of my mouth and used it to rub a glaze of semen across my lips and cheeks.

Leaning forward, I kissed Michael with a mouthful of cum, letting it pour out of my mouth and into his. He moved above me, opened his mouth and poured it back on my face, then licked and lapped me like a dog, retrieving every pearl of semen until we frenched and swallowed the last remaining drops. With sticky wet faces, we collapsed again on the sofa, curled together, kissing quietly, tasting and relishing the pungent aroma of Michael’s seed.

We stayed like that for what seemed like an hour. I think we dozed a bit. I remember him nuzzling my neck, sighing and whispering, “Fucked and sucked by the master! I love you so much!!”

We didn’t wash up that night, just let Michael’s semen remain until it dried. As we crawled under the covers and killed the bedroom lights, I gave his sweet asshole a few more licks and kisses. He lifted his behind to my face and whimpered as I pushed deep into his crack for one final, long, lingering kiss.

We awoke to the morning sun slanting through the window blinds. I was exhausted; could have stayed buried under the covers with Michael’s warm, smooth body spooned against me. But I needed to start the coffee, shower and shave, prepare breakfast and get us ready for a busy day at work. As I slid out of bed I couldn’t help but think… “Should I try to hook up with Kevin this afternoon?”


So help me out here…

I love Michael.

He is perfect in almost every way. He is cute, sexy, passionate, a bedroom slut.

He is smart, literate, articulate, involved and concerned with issues both local and global.

He is funny, kind, sensitive and caring.

He doesn’t play head games, he doesn’t pout, sulk or throw tantrums when things don’t go his way.

He is steady and responsible; has no patience for rudeness or stupidity.

He rescues abandoned kittens and helps old ladies cross the street.

And he is devoutly monogamous; he wouldn’t think of cheating and has only contempt for those who do.

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