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I don’t quite remember when I first realized I had a thing for cocks.
I remember watching porn as a normal hormonal teenager and eventually noticing that I seemed to greatly enjoy the parts my peers often would often skip. There were times when I’d fire up a scene and find nothing so hot as the opening blowjob. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed the sex as well, but as I grew able to admit things to myself I found that I was once again at odds with my fellow supposedly straight males.
You see, porn is a fantasy. You insert yourself into that fantasy being that none of us are ever likely to be banging a revolving door of beautiful women with our average looks and average cocks and this thing called the real world getting in the way. That’s why it’s a fantasy and why I did exactly as intended. I inserted myself into the fantasy, but on the opposite end.
You’d think that it would be obvious, something you would notice straight away, and yet it took me a while to realize that fantasizing about having my dick sucked would never make me quite as stiff as fantasizing about being the one sucking dicks instead.
But I’m not gay. At least not completely. In the world of men who want to suck cocks there is a surprising horde of “straight” guys out there. I don’t know if they’re afraid of the term bisexual, but if the age of the internet and my particular browsing habits have taught me one thing it’s that apparently there’s nothing gay about a man sucking another mans cock.
Oh, and I’m not talking about trans women here who are in fact, you know, women. I’m talking about man cock. Maybe it was a privilege of the environment I grew up in that I had no trouble eventually accepting that on that great sliding scale I was certainly somewhere in the middle.
You see, I like women. I think they’re beautiful, heck, some are down right divine and if given half the chance I’d jump on the chance to be with them.
But I want to suck cock.
So what? You might say. In my two and half decades on this earth I’ve spent nearly half of that time with an itch I’ve yet to scratch. An itch that has led me from message board to message board, to ordering from certain shops assured of their “discreet packaging”, to reading up on male pleasure, to going on a hunt for the mythic prostate orgasm, without success thus far unfortunately but certainly enjoyable nonetheless. For years i’ve had this itch and for years i’ve yet to touch any cock save from my own.
Let me say that again: I want to suck cock. At least that’s how it started out. Let me clarify the current state of affairs for you. I want to be on my knees worshipping dick. I want to feel a bulbous head slide past my lips, and I want the man attached to it to know exactly what he wants.
I want to get fucked. I want a man to take his cock and use my hole for his pleasure.
As you can see, I’ve developed my desires a bit more than the initial porno fantasies of my formative years.
I like to think I know what I like. Again, I do enjoy having sex with women, and I have absolutely no desire to be pegged by them, nor do I have any desire to penetrate a man, but there is a reason why nearly every heat induced fantasy i’ve had while self pleasuring myself has been about submitting to a man and his cock for years now.
Which is how I guess all this business got started.
I met him on one of those websites on one of those posts, you know the ones. There are always three types of people on those sorts of websites. The ones on the hunt for something or someone whether it be a one time hookup or the start of something more. Then there were ones who already had something and were showing it off or had a word of encouragement or advice for those in need. Lastly there were the ones who were into this sort of thing and could say the filthiest things you’ve ever heard but ultimately knew they would never actually do anything.
I myself believed I was firmly in that third category. Horny as anything, but too chicken to actually follow through. Well, that’s how it starts for some I suppose.
He replied to some comment of mine and I replied back and it went back and forth like that for a while across different threads and different days, bumping into my internet stranger every now and then and learning about each other in subtle ways. It was clear he was on the opposite spectrum from me, a top to be sure and immensely confident in his abilities which I figured either meant he was a complete joke or God’s gift to men since there simply can be no middle ground in such affairs.
One day I logged on and there was a private message. My heart started racing. Let me jump ahead and spoil this moment for a second: That message was nothing provocative. It wasn’t a request, it wasn’t some naughty declaration, and it damn sure wasn’t a dick pic. It was just a greeting. A greeting that I, a fully capable adult on a random website had no obligation to even reply to if I so choose.
But I did. Do you ever have that topkapı escort moment when you know you’re going to do something deep down, but your fully conscious mind hasn’t accepted that fact yet? I think that’s what was going on with me when I replied.
Actually I know what was going through my mind when I replied:
What if he’s really an asshole? What if he thinks I’m ugly? I’m not, but I don’t know what this man is into. Oh my god, what if he’s ugly? Shallow you say? It wasn’t like I was looking to suck and fuck someones inner beauty here, he better be attractive even if this only went as far as some online flirting since for all I knew this was the one and only time i’d be doing this kind of thing. Wanted it to be just right you see. He was, by the way, attractive. Something I’d find out a bit later. Anyway, jumping to conclusions was clearly a theme of that first private message.
After creating a list of pros and cons in my head I responded with my best “i’m not overly excited but it’s also nice to hear from you” line.
Smooth as anything.
So that’s how it started. Messages back and forth that eventually became more and more intimate over time.
Where are you based? Oh an hour away? Fuck me, isn’t that just convienient. Have I ever done this kind of thing? No, just a fantasy. You? Oh of course you have.
I tell him things I’ve never told anyone directly. It’s a different feeling being a voice among many than it is talking to another person directly. So you’ve got no experience at all? I tell him about the toy collection I have secreted away in my closet despite living alone just in case my mother ever drops by and decides to clean my room unexpectedly.
He laughs at that. Do the toys make me feel good? They do but I wonder if it’s more psychological than physical. He tells me they’re more connected than I realize and being in the right mindspace can make all the difference.
I want to say, yeah, of course I know that, but I don’t. My imagination isn’t bad but i’m guessing it’s a pale substitute for the feeling of a man grabbing my hips and pounding me senseless, so I bow to his experience
Would I ever consider doing something like this for real? Maybe. Maybe, but I’d have to be very comfortable with someone to show them that side of me without the buffer of a computer screen. I’d have to trust them.
“Do you trust me?,” he asks.
“I could learn to.”
Eventually we exchange pictures. Well, we exchange social media which is a slightly less creepy way of saying hey I wanna see your face now. Like I said, handsome. This is another point of contention for me. If you recall, this all started off as an obsession, a desire for cocks. I’m a connoisseur of them. Some I like, some not so much. I have a particular head shape I like, I like a certain curvature. I’m not a snob, but some look better than others. Men on the other hand…a mixed bag.
I don’t want to come off as having high standards, but the average guy is just so so for me. Not hideous, not ugly, but not also not someone whose cock i’d like down my throat. But he was handsome. Taller than me, which I’m ashamed to admit I was into despite knowing no one can control their height, naturally tanned skin, winning smile, teeth like he just walked out of a toothpaste commercial. He was handsome. Above average. So above average I wondered what he was doing talking to me.
Like I said, I’m not ugly. Not pale but not particularly tanned, dark hair, not heavily muscled, but not stick thin either. I take care of myself. That being said, this man was a handsome, confident, assertive top, and if I knew one thing from being on that side of the internet, it’s that there would be no shortage of guys waiting to bend over for him.
Oh and he was well off too. Some kind of lawyer. Not the courtroom type but I fucked up and need legal advice type. This only deepened my suspicion. Did he have some kind of fetish for finding guys with no experience and being their firsts? And if he did, why in the hell would that bother me? If anything I should be over the moon, but I’m a paranoid, read as insecure, fellow, as you can perhaps tell from my secret toy stash.
Things, however, continued. The worst that could happen is we stopped talking and that was fine. Actually the worst that could happen is he archived our conversations, used his lawyer connections to look up my personal contacts, and blackmailed me by threatening to expose my long kept secret to my Nana. I figure that second option was pretty unlikely so I rolled with it.
Eventually it got to the point where he’d start making certain “suggestions” for me to try out and I can’t say that I was annoyed by these, quite the opposite. At first it started off as playful things before progressing to more explicit activities as he flexed the increasing authority he was gaining over me.
Trying to get me to cum from anal became something of a project for him after I expressed fatih escort my repeated frustration about seemingly not being able to get over the edge. I was describing to him the night before riding my dildo as he’d instructed me to and how I’d gotten into a rhythm that felt like it might take me all the way before I lost it and ultimately jerked myself off to finish, almost as a consolation prize.
“Did it feel good?,” he asks me.
“I like the sound of that.”
My cock twitched after reading that. It’s at this point I wonder what’s going on? What am I doing taking instructions on how to fuck myself from some guy on the internet and why am I enjoying it so much? I suppose it was a middle ground. I hadn’t asked for anything more and he hadn’t asked me to do anything I was uncomfortable with.
It was more than what I had certainly and I should be happy with that. I had scratched the surface and that would probably be as far as it went. It then came as a shock for me when one day I opened up my inbox to see a message short and to the point.
It was an address. His address, obviously.
Accompanying it was a date and a brief message, ” 7 p.m. Come clean and come ready.”
That was it. It didn’t say ready for what though we both knew what he was referring to. If my heart had been pounding from that first message, it nearly beat out of my chest now. Already flooding through my head were a million responses, a million ways to politely refuse. To say I wasn’t ready for this. Hell, to just ignore it and never say anything again, and yet…you know how sometimes you know you’re going to do something deep down but your conscious mind hasn’t caught up just yet?
I was going. I didn’t even reply. Didn’t need to. Despite all my worry I washed myself as thoroughly as I ever have, inspected every detail of myself in the mirror, and leaving with plenty of time to spare, was on his doorstep at 7 p.m on the date in question.
He opened the door and smiled and I think I managed a very awkward smile that conveyed that I was happy to see him but also terrified. He welcomed me in and soon as I stepped in and shut the door he was hovering over me.
My back pressed against the door and his hand rested firmly against it’s chestnut surface. He looked down, he really was taller than me, into my eyes.
“You know why you came here, don’t you?,” He asked me. His expression conveyed much more than I could gleam along from reading his text messages these past weeks. Serious yet gentle. Dreamy almost, like he had all the power in the world but I didn’t need to be afraid of it.
I nodded forcing myself to meet his gaze.
“Are you sure?,” he asked, brushing his hand against my cheek. “I think I know what you want. What you need. But i’m not here to force you into anything.”
Maybe that was all I needed to hear. My nerves calmed considerably though, believe me, I was still as nervous as i’d ever been. I stepped into him and wrapped my arms around his neck looking him in the eye.
“I’m sure,” I said, with as much confidence as I could muster. Which at the time I thought was fairly respectable but in retrospect probably sounded like a scared teen on his first date.
He smiled and guided me by hand into the kitchen. He offered me a cool glass of water to calm my nerves.
“I have wine, but I think it’s best not to cloud the mind,” he explained.
“Can’t disagree there,” I said, downing the glass in one go. He smiled and proffered me another glass.
You didn’t reply, he brings up. I was too nervous. I was busy working up my courage.
I’m glad you came, he tells me. I nod my head and take a sip.
You’re nervous, he observes. I nod my head more vigorously while taking another drink.
He steps toward me and takes the glass from my hands. Then his fingers are running across my still wet lips, the look he’s giving me is like he’s studying every corner of my soul. Next he’s caressessing my cheek as he speaks.
“I won’t tell you not to be nervous, that would be pointless,” he says tracing the curve of my ear, “Tonight I’m going to give you what you need. What you deserve. But nothing will happen unless you want it to. Do you understand?”
I start to nod and he stops me with his hand to my chin, “This isn’t the sort of thing I can take on gesture. From now on when I ask a question, I need you to answer. Do you understand?”
“Yes…,” I stammer out.
“Yes?” he says expectantly.
“Yes sir,” I sputter blushing deeply as I say that for the first time out loud.
“Do you trust me?”
I hesitate, taking the time to look directly at him before speaking clearly, “I do.” Which is absolutely crazy considering i’d just met him in person for the first time not 10 minutes ago, yet I felt like I knew him. Knew i’d be safe with him. Or no one would hear from me again. That was unlikely though. Probably.
He smiles again, ” Ready?”
“Yes sir,” I say more confidently.
I’m eyüp escort in a haze as he guides me to what I assume is his bedroom by hand. This almost feels like a dream, like it isn’t really happening and I might wake up at any moment.
I’m guided to the center of the room and left there as he sits on the edge of his bed.
“I left two instructions. You’ve told me you’re ready, let’s see if you followed the second instruction,” he says.
I must look like a fool as my face contorts in confusion. In my haze I’m scrambling to remember what in the world he’s talking about. Thankfully he senses this and alleviates my confusion.
“Strip,” he commands.
Ah, yes. Come clean and come ready. “All the way, uh, sir?” I ask self consciously.
His only reply is a slight tilt of his head as if he’s already said what he needed to say. So, gulping, I begin to strip. My shirt, then my shoes and socks, and then I hesitate. Truth be told, I felt my cock stirring from the moment he backed me into his door. Since his touch in the kitchen I’ve been stiff as a board.
For some reason that fact makes me terribly embarrassed as if stripping bare in front of a man you’ve just met in person for the first time wasn’t enough of a reason. I look to him hoping he’ll perhaps say this is enough but his expression is completely unchanged. Giving in I remove my pants resting them to my side, and lastly my underwear.
So there I stood, completely naked in his room while he was completely clothed still. His gaze takes me in hungrily and shamelessly. I can see him examining me from top to bottom and not trying to hide it one bit. I fidget and twist my legs trying to gain some modicum of privacy.
Abruptly he stands jarring me from my stupor. He walks to me and takes my arms and places them at my side, “Don’t hide from me.” His voice is soft, yet the air of command is absolute. I resist fidgeting more and he proffers a small smile.
He walks around me taking his time and looking over every inch of me. I’ve never had to hold back the urge to move, to leap for the bed sheets and cover myself as I did then feeling his gaze all over me, but I remain still, arms at my side and on full display.
“You have a lovely body,” he says next to my ear and it sends a shiver down my spine. He comes around to face me once more and leans down pressing a kiss to my forehead. I breathe out a sigh as he does so and relax slightly.
Looking down between us at my still erect uncut cock he asks, “Is this the source of your embarrassment? Do you think you’re the only one?” He says as he reaches around and grabs my butt in both hands, pulling me into him suddenly. I gasp and stumble as my cock rubs against his leg and I can feel his own semi-hard cock pressed against my stomach through his pants.
“Look at me,” he says and I do. He leans down and stops as if waiting for permission. I meet him the rest of the way and press my lips into a kiss as he squeezes my back side pulling me closer to him.
Once the kiss is done he takes a step back and looks me over again, composed as ever as I feel as though I can barely catch my breath.
“A few rules before we go further. You already understand to reply when I ask you a question?”
“Yes sir,” I reply regaining what little composure is available to me in this position.
“Good. Tonight you belong to me, is that understood?” he asks?
Letting out a few breaths I reply, “Yes sir.”
“I believe I know what you need, and I know thus far your own efforts have been inadequate to trulysatisfy you,” he explains reaching a hand out to caress my chest.
“You’re a smart, funny, well to do man and I respect that,” he pauses pinching circling a nipple, “but tonight you want to be a whore don’t you?” he punctuates pinching down on the taught flesh.
I’m nearly breathless again but I can feel my cock pulse as he speaks as if that were answer enough.
“Yes sir,” I reply.
“Say it,” he commands.
Consoling myself that being embarrassed saying a few words while completely naked, erect, and having my nipples pinched is probably foolish at this point, I reply. “Tonight, I want to be a whore, sir.”
“Your whore, sir.” I reply, turning a deeper shade of red.
“Good. Tonight this body is my property, to use and do with as I like. Do you agree?”
“I agree sir, my body is yours to use.”
“And a good whore doesn’t touch what’s not there’s without permission, correct?” he asks, trailing his hand down my stomach.
His touch alone has me on fire. Even without the influence of alcohol I wonder if there’s anything I’d say no to him about in this moment. I remind myself that I can end this any time, though God knows I don’t want to.
“No sir, I won’t touch myself without your permission.”
“We have an understanding then,” he finishes. With that he lightly places two fingers on my cock and gently peels back my foreskin to reveal my swollen glands beneath glistening with precum. I nearly double over from this touch but he quickly removes his hand afterwards.
I look to him and see him smiling mischievously, “I like you exposed.” is all he says as I straighten myself again.
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