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The Blow Job (mm)
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
THE BLOW JOB
I knelt before him, my knees cushioned by the soft shag
carpet. He was utterly naked, his hard, hairy body
completely open to my eyes and touch. His cock hung at rest
over his balls, pointing downward... down to my eager and
hungry mouth.
On my knees, in what was supposedly a subservient
position -- that of the cocksucker as opposed to the
cocksuckee -- I never felt more in control. On other nights
and in other situations we could be, and indeed were, equals.
As a lover, friend and partner I could not ask for much more.
Tonight, though, was different. Tonight, while appearing to
give myself utterly to him, I would, in fact, be wallowing in
self-indulgent lust.
Yesterday and tomorrow he was and would be my reason for
living. Tonight he was just a cock -- this cock -- now
faintly stirring with life in response to my simply kneeling
before it and contemplating its beauty. It really was
beautiful, I noted, as I took the time to examine it
carefully.
The head was soft to the touch, the way no other part of
his body ever was. It did look like a helmet, with the
mouthlike slit where the spike or plume would be. Now that
tiny mouth was opening, speaking in small droplets of clear,
sticky precum, that precious fluid that prepared the way for
the glories yet to come.
Around the edge of the head was the tender meaty ridge
that I so enjoyed nibbling on. It made a near perfect ring,
except for the break on the bottom. The break formed an
arrow seemingly molded into the flesh, pointing at the fount
of his manly nectar.
His shaft, now legthening as his hot blood rushed to
engorge his tool, provided further visual delights. First
was the reddish pink ring that was part of the head. A few
teeth gently scraped along this surface at just the right
moment could produce the most interesting reactions. It was
very tender and always deserved to be treated with the utmost
in tender loving care.
Beneath that was a dark brown ring that marked where his
foreskin had been cut off. There are some who prefer their
cocks uncut, but not me. An uncut penis is like a theater
before the houselights go down and the curtain has gone up.
The fleshy pole before me instead seemed like a solo star
turn, with all the footlights and spotlights geared to
emphasizing this one point onstage.
Still lower was the pink flesh which led to the rest of
his body. Even here there were signs of erotic delights to
be followed, such as the dark, curly pubic hair which reached
out to surround this magnificent member, like vines around a
mighty tree.
His dark triangle was like a private garden. It had a
fountain, it had tangled undergrowth, it had two boulders
which offered unique vantage points, and it had paths leading
away from the garden that held the promise of other exotic
delights that might yet be discovered. Right now I examined
those moss covered boulders, the wrinkled, hairy sac which
contained his balls. Even as I watched they were
manufacturing that hot cream that I would eventually allow
him to shoot down my throat. That, however, would be in good
time.
Without my having touched him -- without having done
anything more than simply let my eyes dance through the
region of his groin -- he had become hard and aroused. His
flaccid dick had literally stretched itself out to its full
seven inches, and was now twitching in anticipation of what I
would do next.
Since my plan was to indulge each of my senses tonight,
what I did next was press my face into his crotch, instantly
becoming drunk from the heady scent of his masculinity. The
combination of sight and smell had their desired effect. I
no longer was content to be the passive observer here. I
wanted this cock, and I wanted it now. It was time for
action.
My hand reached for his scrotal pouch and gently hefted
it, as much for the feel as for a bit of misdirection. As he
focused his attention on his balls, I leaned forward and --
quick as a whip -- darted out my tongue to lick the quivering
drop of precum that had formed at his cocktip. He shuddered
aloud, as much from the surprise as from the sensation, and
the sound of his gasp added to my sensory enjoyment of the
situation.
I let go of his balls, and grasped his fleshy piston at
the piston. Simultaneously this increased his excitement as
at last he got the firm contact that he craved, while it also
served to calm him down, reminding him that tonight his
sexually satisfaction was a happy by-product, not the reason,
for my actions.
I examined the stiff dick in my hand. The blue veins
literally pulsed with the blood that was forced into his cock
to create the hard firmness I loved so much. Still holding
it, I gently licked the underside of his tool, savoring both
the taste and near swoon that welcomed my ministrations.
Crouching down between his muscular thighs, I opened my
mouth wide, to take his hot nuts into my mouth. Gently, ever
so gently, I sucked on them, spurring them on in their
production of manly juices. When my tongue pressed up
between them, spreading them apart, I was afraid he was going
to lose it right there. I disengaged and pulled back,
waiting for him to mentally reset the hair trigger on pulsing
weapon.
This teasing could have gone on for hours, and on other
nights it did. Then the purpose was to drive him wild and
having literally begging for release. When it came -- when
he came -- it was an awesome moment that sealed the bond
between us. Tonight, though, it was my schedule we were
adhering to, and now I wanted to take that beautiful cock
into my mouth and suck on it as if my life depending on it.
Which is exactly what I did.
First I pursed my lips into a tight ring so that every
millimeter of his dickflesh would be tantalized by my soft
wet lips. When my nose was buried at its hairy root, with
his balls grazing my chin, I paused to drink in the
sensations of the moment.
The soft head of his dick grazed the roof of my mouth,
but I had long since learned how to suppress the gag reflex
that might have pushed it back. His long rod pulsed on my
tongue. I could literally taste the changes in pressure as
the blood coursed through his pole. Some more precum
dribbled out and I could taste it on the back of my tongue as
slid across it and down my throat.
Now I pulled back, exerting a gentle suction as I drew
my lips across his veiny member. Again I plunged downward,
exhilirated by the feeling of his cock penetrating my face. I
continued doing this until he began rolling his hips and
moving his stiff prick on his own accord. I stopped my
motion -- not to restrain him, but in order to experience the
sheer animal sensation of having my face fucked. As he
penetrated my mouth, again and again, I kept my eyes open in
order to fully drink in the moment.
My tongue flicked the slick underside of his dick as his
fucking motions increased. I took his hands and placed them
on the back of my head. This served not only to steady his
balance, but to encompass me in his urgent need. As he
thrusted his crotch into my face, impaling me with his
erection, his hands pulled my head inward towards the boiling
cream that was rising up from his balls.
I reached out and grabbed his ass cheeks, my fingers
probing for that secret hole where my own stiffness would be
buried later that evening. That penetrating finger pressed
the final button for his orgasm. All in an instant he
clamped down on my finger, pushed my face so deeply into his
crotch that I could count the individual pubic hairs, and
thrust upward in a final motion that symbolized for me the
joy and the excitement that is fucking.
The world came to a standstill, as he teetered on the
precipice. I could feel that moment of indecision, where he
could pull back in hopes of achieving still greater heights,
or go ahead into glorious free fall. He fell, and his cock
began shooting forth like a geyser.
As there is a moment of indecision in fucking, so is
there one in cocksucking -- to swallow or not to swallow. I
always opt to swallow, which was fortunate since I was so
position that my choice was reduced to swallowing or
foregoing breathing. His dick was sheathed so deeply in my
mouth that the first two shots missed my tongue entirely and
went directly down my throat. Then, as he relaxed slightly
and leaned back, the remaining nectar poured out onto my
tongue, where I could enjoy its salty, manly essence.
Such was the intensity of the moment that we remain
locked together in this fashion for several minutes, long
enough for me to drain him dry, and finally return his now
flaccid tool to the state where I had originally found it.
When I finally rose from the floor, my head was swimming
from the indescribably ecstasies of achieving the perfect
blow job. In reducing himself, for just a while, to the
stiff cock that I needed for this fantasy, he had given me a
great gift. How could I ever show my gratitude and devotion
for this present? One look into his eyes gave me the answer.
Tomorrow night would be my turn........!
the end
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