Serendipity

"I forgot my cell phone back at the table," another cock-fantasy charged lie. "I'll catch up with you on Monday."

The cab sped away from the curb and John knew he was at a crossroads in his life.

After staring at the front door for what seemed like an eternity, his brain finally sent a message to his feet, and he found himself heading back into the club. Thankfully, the bouncers recognized him, so he didn't have to pay the cover charge again, but it wouldn't have deterred him. He felt an unnatural resolve to follow through with this fantasy that belied his usual cautiousness, and would have gladly paid double the cover charge to be granted an audience with Mr. Foxxx to request the opportunity of his lifetime.

Walking with a newfound confidence and sense of purpose, John found himself approaching the VIP table at the back of the room, where Roscoe was seated in the booth, sandwiched between his multi-colored buxom fluffers.

"Excuse me Mr. Foxxx," John found himself saying, as if he was having an out of body experience. "I just wanted to thank you personally for the drinks you bought us earlier."

"No problem," Roscoe replied politely, even though he was somewhat perturbed at the interruption, "Eric was a friend to me when nobody else was, and I'll never forget that."

Expecting this to be the end of the interruption, Roscoe was surprised to see John still standing at his table, nervously shifting from one foot to the other.

"Can I help you with anything else?" Roscoe said in a tone which clearly meant it was time for John to leave.

"Actually Mr. Foxxx, there is something you could help me with, since we're both friends of Eric's," John continued, immediately feeling guilty about dropping the name of the guy he just abandoned in the first available cab.

Rosco Foxxx leaned forward on the table, the crisp cuffs of his shirt protruding from the sleeves of his jacket, revealing the dice-sized gold cuff links, monogrammed with the letters LRF spelled out in diamonds, "This better be good."

Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, John blurted out the words that would change his life, "Mr. Foxxx, I was wondering if you would hire me as a fluffer."

The words hung in the air like the thick smoke from the Cuban cigar smoldering in the ash tray on the table.

"You're fucking with me, right?" Roscoe said, in a tone of a man who does not take kindly to being fucked with.

"No sir, I'm dead serious," John replied, surprising himself by ignoring his natural instincts, which would be to turn and run out of the club as fast an his feet could carry him.

Roscoe looked at his escorts one by one in stunned silence, then the trio erupted in uncontrollable laughter at John's expense. Standing there watching them laugh at his most serious request, John thought he couldn't be more humiliated than at this very moment. He would soon find out he was wrong.

Pulling himself together and wiping a tear from his eye from laughing so hard, Roscoe asked, "well, are you any good at it?"

"I don't know sir..." John stammered, trying to find the right words, "you see....I...ummm...never...ummm...you know."

"No, I don't know," Roscoe replied, taking perverted pleasure in watching John squirm, "why don't you explain it to me, and don't leave out any details." This random interruption was actually turning out more entertaining than Roscoe ever imagined.

What followed was an uninterrupted stream of consciousness flowing from John's mouth, starting with his earliest memories of his desire to suck cock, and ending with Eric explaining the definition of a fluffer.

"And that's how I come to stand here asking you for a job for which I have no experience," John concluded, finally sharing his deepest, darkest secret with another human being.

Roscoe sat silently, staring past John's eyes, directly into his exposed and vulnerable soul. After a long, awkward silence, he said with a sly smirk, "this is show business, and nobody gets a part without an audition."

John stood confused, trying to understand the mean of the words swimming in his brain, when he heard the tell-tail sound of a zipper being lowered, and saw the bimbo on the right lifting up the black table cloth which covered the VIP table.

"You can't be serious?" John pleaded in vane, knowing the question was rhetorical.

"Do you want this part or not," Roscoe retorted, pleased with himself for the accidental double-entendre.

Looking around to make sure nobody would notice, John found himself on his hands and knees crawling under the VIP table, staring at Roscoe's enormous cock and its one good eye.

Bimbo on the left reached under the table, and started bending and flexing her index finger, beckoning John toward the object of his desire. Her slender hand then wrapped around Roscoe's thick shaft, and started slowly pumping it up and down.

To say this was the thickest cock John had ever seen would be an understatement. If not for the 3-inch manicured nails at the end of each digit, the fingers of her small hand would not have met as they wrapped around Roscoe's cock. John stared in disbelief as the cock continued to grow, like something out of Jack and the Beanstalk, until it reached a maximum length of at least 10 inches.

As he crawled closer to his prize, John's nose filled with the musky aroma of Roscoe's enormous junk. He also notice the solid gold ring pierced through the left side of his scrotum. Face to face with the object of his ultimate fantasy, John could feel his mouth water and his stomach flutter with the feeling of a million butterflies.

John's eyes fixated on the coke-can sized purple head standing proud atop this flesh flag pole, and the copious amount of precum that was leaking out of it. While working up the courage to actually place his mouth over this amazing spectacle in front of him, from above the table, he heard its owner yell, "ACTION!"

On cue, John pulled the young lady's hand away, and replaced it with his own, then lowered his head to the tip of the most magnificent cock he's ever held.

In fact, it was the only cock he's ever held, other than his own.

Stretching his lips wide, he pushed his head over the dome of Roscoe's root, accepting the large mushroom tip into his mouth. He was surprised at the spongy texture and the warmth of having another man's cock in his mouth. His tongue first reacted to the salty taste, then it registered the tangy, viscous texture of Roscoe's precum as it spread through his mouth.

Hearing an audible moan from above the table, John began bobbing his head up and down, trying to accept more than the head into his mouth, while moving his hand up and down the length of shaft that would not fit inside.

Like trying sushi or snails for the first time, John wasn't sure that he would like it at first, but with the way he was salivating, he knew that cock was a delicacy that agreed with his palette. The amount of his saliva that was running down Roscoe's shaft was obscene, but it provided the necessary lube for John's jerking fist.

Removing Roscoe's cock head from his mouth, John flattened his tongue and started running it up and down the sensitive underside of the thick shaft, feeling every bump and vein. While doing this, John fondled Roscoe's balls with one hand, and used the thumb of the other hand to smear the precum over the bulbous head.

"Cut to the chase," came the direction from above, and John knew what he needed to do.

Stretching his mouth open again, he once again found his lips wrapped around the thick head of another man's penis, and he was loving every inch of it. Relaxing his jaw, John pushed his head down hard, until he felt the spongy head of Roscoe's cock nudging at the back of his throat.

Pleased with his success, John started bobbing his head again, lifting it until just the tip of the cock remained in contact with his lips, and then jamming it back down, until the huge cock head triggered his gag reflex.

This got Roscoe's attention and he reached under the table to hold John's head in his hands. Then he started bucking his hips up and down, jamming more of his cock into John's mouth, and causing a lot of gagging and sputtering noises to emanate from below the table.

John was keeping up with Roscoe's thrusts, breathing through is nose to keep from passing out. He brought himself this far and he was hell-bent on successfully finishing this job.

Roscoe's hips started bucking a little harder and a little faster, and John knew full well what was going to happen soon. His butterflies doubled, as did his cock sucking efforts, giddy with anticipation of having his mouth soon filled with another man's cum.

The first blast caught him by surprise, and John pulled his head off Roscoe's cock, coughing and gagging, trying to catch his breath. The next two blasts of cum hit John squarely in the face.

Feeling the cum running down his cheeks, John covered Roscoe's cock with his mouth again, and started sucking down the remaining cum like a milkshake through an incredibly large straw.

When the twitching cock in his mouth stopped spurting, John took it out of his mouth again, licking up and down the shaft, and over the purple head, cleaning up every ounce of cum he could find. John then started rubbing the slowly deflating cock all over his face, using it to spread around the cum on his cheeks and chin.

While he was very proud of himself for finally acting on his life-long fantasy, and doing a damned good job, in his own humble opinion, he started to feel sad about this experience coming to an end, and already found himself wondering if he'd ever get another chance to suck a beautiful cock like this again in his life.

As he continued to kiss and lick around Roscoe's cock, John wondered how he was going to extricate himself from under the VIP table while attempting to maintain his last shred of dignity.

The slender hand with the manicured nails reappeared below the table, moving Roscoe's cock away from John's hungry tongue, and tenderly tucking it back into his custom tailored suit pants. John knew it was over, and crawled out from under the table on his hands and knees, quickly scrambling to his feet as soon as he was clear.

The first thing he noticed was that the crowd had dwindled significantly, making him wonder just how long he was under the VIP sucking the VIP's cock. The next thing he noticed was the cool feeling on his face, clearly indicating that it was still smeared with Roscoe's cum. The third and most shocking thing he noticed was that there was now a huge wet stain on the front of his khaki pants. Obviously he was so turned on by sucking Roscoe's cock, that he came in his pants, and judging by the size of the stain, more than he's cum in quite a number of years.

"Thank you Mr. Foxxx," John said to Roscoe, then immediately felt embarrassed for thanking the man whose cock he just sucked. "I won't take up any more of your time," John added, then turned to leave. His only thought was getting as far away from the smug smile on the face of the well dress midget sitting between these two blonde goddesses.

"Wait a minute," John heard from behind him, and he turned to face Roscoe Foxxx one last time. "Here," was all that Roscoe added, his outstretched arm offering John his business card.

Reflexively, John reached out and took the card.

"You're hired!" Roscoe informed him, "we start shooting tomorrow morning at 10 sharp."

Standing in a daze staring at the card, waiting for his brain to send a signal to his feet, John heard Roscoe add one more comment.

"You may want to wear a darker pair of pants, or get yourself some panty liners, you're gonna be sucking a hell of a lot of cock tomorrow!"

Walking out of the club, the sarcastic laughter coming from the VIP table fading in the distance, staring at the business card in his hand, John knew his life had truly changed on that night.