Cock-Sucker: Having My Fill of Phil

I was uneasy. But agreed. She was waiting in the hotel room, a large lady with a rich laugh. I was nervous, but got undressed ready and she immediately began to show her enthusiasm. Saying 'Oh! He's a doll!' when she saw me naked. And when I got down and began sucking his cock she was getting crude and explicit - 'suck that cock you dirty little queer' and then, when she saw that I was erect, 'he's loving it, just look at that dinky hard-on.' She removed her own underwear and began rubbing herself enthusiastically. Eventually he grunted as he spunked-off into my open mouth, cum dribbling down my chin so she could see.

But as I got up and prepared to dress she called me across to squat between her spread legs. Her tone of voice left me no choice. I had no experience of licking pussy, but did the best I could, adapting the technique I used to suck cock. Halfway through she got me to lie on my back on the bed, she straddled my head, sinking her wet pussy over my face so I had no alternative but to use my tongue and mouth as she vigorously fucked herself backwards and forwards on my face. She was delighted when - spontaneously, my jerking bobbing cock orgasmed and spurted spunk up my stomach. Her pussy began clenching and convulsing as she climaxed moments later, drenching my face in pussy-wine. I was near-suffocated by her fleshy weight, and was rubber-legged when I tried to stand afterwards. She was purring like a satisfied cat, flicking my cock and balls playfully with her fingertips. I did enjoy licking that pussy too. I was conscious of the aroma on my face for some time - despite taking a shower afterwards. And the tangy flavour at the back of my throat.

He apologetically 'paid my expenses' afterwards as I prepared to leave, and I never got a call from him again. I sometimes wonder where their marriage has progressed as a result of that evening.

These memories leave a teasing after-taste that still arouses...

We are all different things to different people, we have multiple split-personalities depending on the time and place and situation. We can be forceful in one situation, and submissive in another. We are pliable... and maybe suggestible too. As with that foursome I promised to tell you about earlier. This is how it happened. There was one evening when Phil and I had been clubbing in the Gay Village, and somehow hooked up with two unlikely guys. Stuart and Richard are likeable out-of-towners on a binge, unsophisticated and gauche, but they buy us big green cocktails and assume that gives them certain ownership rights, that we have, in some way... 'clicked'.

'This is an amazing place' gushes Stu, the more assertive of the two, 'we've never been anywhere like this ever before. So many poofters and fairies.'

In the toilets me and Phil laugh at the prospect, should we just dump them now and lose ourselves in the Village revelry? But we have no other viable prospects for the evening. So why not go along with it, see what develops? 'Think of it as missionary work on behalf of all Gaykind' suggests Phil teasingly. So we end up heading back for our apartment as a foursome, where the lights are low and music pulses from the speakers. I sidle into the kitchenette to get drinks and four glasses, when I get back 'Stu' Stuart and 'Rich' Richard are sitting side-by-side on the sofa. Phil is crouching between Stuart's splayed legs. He already has his cock out and is lustily sucking it! From what I can see, from the length not hidden deep in Phil's mouth, he looks to be very impressively hung.

I arch my eyebrow in mock-shock. Then begin to undress. If I'm going to do this I'm going to do it right, and I don't want cum-stains - his or mine, on my best threads. I shrug off my T-shirt and skinny-jeans while Richard watches. At first he just sits there, as scared as if he's waiting in the queue for a Dental appointment. Then he undresses too. By the time I've modestly slipped my panties down and off he's sitting there naked sporting a breathtaking erection. Un-cut, and lush with a bush of dark pubic hair. He's breathing heavy, and seems nervous. Maybe he's never had his cock sucked by a faggot before? So I'd best make it good.

I crouch down between his legs, and smile up at him in what's intended to be a reassuring way. 'Rich, you're so fucking huge!' I simper. They all like to be told that. They all like it when you flatter their cock. I lick my lips in a vulgar tarty way, and envelop the base of his cock in my fist, feeling the raw animal pulse of its heat as he flinches. Whatever doubts I might have harboured get flushed away by its sheer sensual magnetism. Yes, I want this with a passion. There's a little tingle of awe and anticipation as I daintily dip my head in, ease that dangerous foreskin back, and swallow that swollen mauve bulb of his glans. The way he gasps out loud indicates that I'm doing it right. I'm salivating, like I'm hungry for it, literally drooling for it, so that spit dribbles down my chin. Yes - face it, accept it, I'm a 'sloppy cock-sucker'. I suck it like I'm in faggot-heaven. For a long several moments there's only the sound of both of us slurpy-sucking our guys, and them groaning appreciatively.

With every down-stroke I ease my mouth just a little deeper, taking more cock into my throat, until my chin is nudging up against those fat swollen hairy balls. How much spunk has he been storing up in the impressive reservoir of his scrotum? I mentally prepare myself, anticipating that deluge about to erupt and flood my poor mouth, psyching myself ready to receive it all...

Then Stu pushes Phil away and stands up so he can undress. His cock flipping and swaying. Phil catches the opportunity to follow his lead. But before sitting back down Stu says 'we should switch.' Phil is already easing his way in, squatting down ready to suck Rich, so the decision seems to have been made, out of my hands... and out of my mouth. Reluctantly releasing the prize in my mouth, with a resigned shrug I shuffle across to face the new cock. Stu is cut, not quite so long, but jaw-stretchingly fatter. It glistens attractively with a coating of Phil's saliva. I gorge myself on it, taking it deep. Glancing across I can see Phil thoroughly enjoying Rich's cock lodged equally deep in his throat. Our eyes meet as we suck on our big respective cocks. It's obviously impossible to smile at each other, but Phil makes that little approving circle-sign with his thumb and forefinger. Yes... result!

'Fuck! These queers sure suck nice' mumbles Rich, his voice a little hoarse, 'better even than Betty Barraclough in the pub-yard after chuck-out.'

'That's 'cos it's in their dirty nature' lectures Stu authoritatively. With the fat blunt wedge of his cock-head nudging my epiglottis, I'm in no position physically or rationally to argue. So I just give that big cock an extra-powerful suck that makes him gasp out loud, in order to let him know that - hey! I'm still down here.

I'm just getting into the delicious rhythm of sucking it when Stu pushes my head away, 'I want to try some bum action.' Again we wriggle around so that me and Phil are now crouched over the sofa with our pale bare bottoms in the air, our legs parted ready. I have a brief conscience-pang about a condom, or at least some lube, but by then it's already too late and Stu is lunging clumsily up into me. He's obviously not used to doing this. He's making it up as he goes on. I brace and relax my rectal muscles as best I can as he grunts and slides deeper. My own aching cock begins pulsing and spurting as he does so, he laughs as I spasm and squirm. Then we are both being furiously ass-fucked side-by-side. It was raw bare-backing, despite a generous spit-lubrication. I glance across and Phil rolls his eyes towards the ceiling in obvious heavenly bliss. Again - Stu halts, does that 'switch' thing, they extract - pulling out of me like he's taking my intestines with him, and they change places, so that now I'm being fiercely fucked by Rich. It goes on for some considerable time. He cums first, I feel that throbbing kick deep inside me, then Stu cums moments later. I hear Phil sighing out his pleasure. They stay draped over us, glistening with a sheen of sweat, before slowly withdrawing.

Phil crouches down to compliantly lick and suck their softening cocks clean. Breathing 'thank you, Boys, that was simply divine' as he nuzzles the two cock-heads affectionately.

They show no signs of an inclination to leave. Phil starts making pointed comments about our two guests 'missing the last bus home,' should we maybe phone them a cab? He stands hands on hips, still attractively naked, a bead of cum glistens on the tip of his perky cock. I long for the privacy to lick it clean. Instead, our guests sprawl on the sofa laughing raucously, they use the remote to thumb on the TV. 'I feel drained' declares Stu, 'all that good fucking's made me hungry.' More an instruction than a comment. So I obligingly pace through into the kitchenette, rummage in the freezer, and microwave a couple of supermarket pizzas. So they sit on our sofa, eating our pizza and watching the Sports Channel on our TV as we fuss around them bringing drinks like naked slave-boys. Despite Phil urging them to leave they stay over, sleeping beside us through the long awkward night, until they insist on getting a farewell blowjob before they eventually leave in the morning. We breathe a collective sigh of relief once they've gone.

'I think we converted those two big dumb country hams to the joys of Gay sex' leers Phil, 'things'll never be quite the same down on the ole farm!'

'How long do you think it'll be before they try sucking each other's cocks?'

'I don't know. But I'd love to be a fly-on-the-wall to watch them when they do.'

Then we begin laughing uncontrollably.

I look back over these real-life sexual escapades with a sense of nostalgic wonder. Certainly my flat-share time in Manchester with Phil, and my adventures with Malcolm, were so amazing I still get erections just thinking about the things we did with each other. Later on Phil meets an older man and they get into what was then a Civil Ceremony. His husband seems to resent me, and Phil becomes more distant and subdued as a result of his controlling new relationship. We lose touch. Although I do briefly reconnect with him, much later, on Facebook. He had split from his husband but had moved on to live with another older dominant man. I'm not sure how happy he is. It's not always easy.

Me...? I'm doing fine.

BY TRISTAN TROTSKY