College Cock

With so many hook up apps on our smartphones, younger guys and newbies to gay hooking don't even remember the hefty trade that went on in online chat rooms.

Living in Northern Virginia, but being deeply closeted, I didn't have a way to begin exploring my attraction to guys that might be more familiar to folks in the Big Apple, Chicago, San Francisco, and the like. I couldn't imagine being caught dead at one of DC's "gay bars." I hadn't located anything approaching a bathhouse. I saw messages written on bathroom walls but those always seemed sketchy.

Then along came the internet, and with it, the advent of online chat rooms.

There were chat rooms for every conceivable interest, including genealogy and ancestry research, gardening, politics. And then there were those mysterious "4" chat rooms. M4M, M4W, W4W, MW4M, MW4W, MW4MW, etc. Even better, there were geographically specific rooms.

Of particular interest to me were rooms with the monikers NoVAM4M and DCM4M.

I created an pseudonymous profile name and treaded lightly into my first chat room.

The rooms consisted of light banter about sex, some braggadocio, and constant feelers being sent to the group: "looking to get sucked," "looking to suck," and similar messages, often followed by a response such as "message me, I'm interested."

I spent a couple months visiting the chat rooms as I worked up the pluck to explore my attraction by finding another guy that would show me the ropes, or at least some of them.

As I mentioned, I lived in Northern Virginia. We were about 15 minutes away from the sprawling campus of George Mason University in Fairfax.

Early one Saturday, I was in one of the NoVAM4M rooms. While there, another profile, using the handle GMUFreshman asked me what I was up to.

We exchanged pleasantries for a while and then he asked if he could message me directly. I agreed. He told me his was a freshman at George Mason, and that he had a thing for dads. At the time, I was 42, and literally, a dad. We chatted for nearly an hour. I sported a boner the whole time, and was leaking pre-cum.

He wanted to meet up.

"I'm married, I can't host," I explained.

"Damn," he replied, "I can't either ... roommates."

"There is a park and some woods near the campus, we could go there," he suggested.

I suppose if I hadn't been boned up and leaking, and edging for the last hour, it would have seemed like a really sketchy idea. But I was horny, and I was desperate to experience, finally, something I had always dreamed about since puberty: sex with a guy.

"Well, is there someplace we could meet up, and then decide if we want to do it," I asked?

"University Plaza is located right across from the campus and not far from the spot I mentioned, how about we meet outside the McDonald's there," he quickly retorted.

This is when, honestly, I began experiencing something I still call a fugue state.

I could see myself typing on the keyboard, but it was like someone else was taking charge and doing the work.

"I can be there is 30 minutes," I responded.

"I'll see you then," came his quick reply.

I described my car so he would be able to find me. Then I got dressed and plotted my escape.

"Honey, I'm going to head to Ace Hardware to get that replacement glass for the backdoor," I told my wife, who was still in bad, but now awake. "Do you want to come?"

She wasn't having any of it. "No, I'm going to get up shortly, and I want to start organizing the winter clothes for storage." It was early April, and the weather had broken, so it was time to dig out the spring and summer clothes and put away the winter coats and boots and the heavier wear.

"Okay, dear," I answered, "maybe later we can hit the garden center? I need to get the mulch for the front yard."

She yawned an agreeable response as I slipped on my jacket and headed toward the door.

Everything was so strange. It was an out of the body experience. And I mean, really out of body. I could hear. I could see. But it was like I was watching myself drive.

"This is crazy," I muttered to myself as I drove.

"What if someone sees me, or what if he tells someone? I could end up in really deep shit."

The fear that knotted up my stomach couldn't overwhelm the burning lust of desire that made my small cock a raging rock of yearning. I didn't stop, I didn't turn back.

University Plaza. There it was, on my left. Only 15 minutes from my house to the parking lot, so I was a bit early. I parked near the McDonalds and waited.

After about 10 minutes of sitting, a young guy walked in my direction. He looked as advertised: curly dirty blond hair, about 5'10" and maybe 190 pounds. I nodded at him when our eyes met and he approached the passenger side door. I popped the button to unlock the door. He slid in and shut the door.

"You're GMUFreshman?"

"Yes," he replied.

"So," I risked, "what do you think?"

I knew what I was thinking: This is so crazy, so hot, so intense, and we haven't even done anything.

"You're very handsome," he nearly whispered.

"Ha!" I answered, "you are beautiful."

"No, seriously," he objected, "I can't wait to feel your cock on my tongue."

"Exactly my thoughts, man, so where is this place you mentioned?"

He gave me directions. I started the car and headed to our rendezvous.

As we drove, his left hand found my right thigh and he began gently rubbing up and down. Each pass of his hand was a lightning bolt of pleasure, and the intensity grew and grew as his hand came closer and closer to my crotch.

I parked in the lot of a small Fairfax County park.

"The path at the back of the park is pretty desolate," he explained, "I've never seen anybody back there before."

"So, you've done this before," I queried.

He looked a little put off by the question, "Not that it's a problem, like I said, I have no idea what I'm doing so I hope you do!"

He smiled, "yeah, I've been here a few times." He winked too.

We walked to the back of the park and started down the path. After about 10 minutes of walking, the path was just about gone. Obviously, few folks came this way. There was a fallen tree, and I sat on it.

He stood in front of me.

"So, daddy, what do you want to do?"

I answered him by reaching for his hips and pulling him to my face. I rubbed my face on his crotch, smelling the fresh smell of his body.

"Oh daddy," he purred.

I loosened his belt, unbuttoned his jeans, and pulled his zipper down. He wasn't wearing underwear.

His cock was tucked down. I fished it out and just stared at it. Hungry. Yearning.

"Go ahead, Daddy," he whispered, "kiss it."

I did.

I made love to his cock. Licking and sucking and kissing it. He pushed his jeans low on his hips and pulled out his balls.

"Lick my balls, Daddy," he pleaded.

I did.

I suckled them like a puppy on a bitch's teat. I kissed and licked them. And then I worked my way back up the shaft of his thick meat.

"You lied to me, Daddy, you said you've never done this before!"

I hadn't lied to him. But I had imagined this moment for thirty years. I had read hundreds of porn stories about this moment. I had watched hundreds of video clips. I'd never done it, but I knew instinctively what was needed, what was wanted, and I gave him everything that I could.

"I'm going to cum, Daddy," he suddenly warned me. Later, I would just keep right on worshiping that cock, but I was new, and I was afraid. So I pulled off and he jacked the cum out of his rod.

The entire time, I was still in that fugue state, as though someone else was doing these things, saying these words, feeling this fire.

Then he was pulling me up and saying, "your turn Daddy."

I was mortified. I never lie about my tiny cocklet, and I hadn't lied to this young man in our online banter. In fact, I told him that, at best, in a full raging hard on, I might be three inches. Still, there is that first moment when someone sees how small I am, and there have been occasions when guys laughed. In fact, I've had guys call it a clitoris.

"You don't have to," I implored.

"No, I don't," came his reply, "I want to. Don't worry Daddy, I know what I'm doing and I like that your cock is smaller.

He didn't bother with my belt, button, or zipper. He roughly pulled my pants and boxers down and my cock sprang out.

He didn't start giving me oral. Instead, he wrapped his hand around me and began slowly stroking me.

"Careful," I cautioned, "I'm so horny and close."

He slowed his stroke and then brought his mouth near to the head of my cock. He tentatively licked the head of my penis, then kissed it, then pulled back, looked up at me and said, "Oh, Daddy." Then he plunged down on me.

"God, oh god," I cried out.

This was everything I'd ever imagined. And more.

He suctioned my cock with ease and then bathed my balls with his tongue. Then back on my dick, licking and sucking until I couldn't hold back.

"Oh god, I'm going to cum!"

Unlike me, he just kept on sucking and I came ... in his mouth, on his tongue, and he just kept sucking and sucking. It was the most intense feeling I'd ever experienced. Soon I couldn't take it; it was overwhelming.

"Stop! Stop! I can't take it anymore."

He looked up at me, smiled, and then sucked me some more. I could feel my knees beginning to buckle. I think he could as well, because he came off my cock.

"Jesus," I said, "that was so incredible, oh my god, I had NO idea."

"Haven't you ever had a blow job before," he asked. I'd told him that I was married, and I guess he assumed that married guys get head. I never had.

"I still can't believe you haven't ever done this before," he said, "I've been blown more than a few times but that is the best head I've ever experienced!"

I told him about studying the porn stories and videos, and about jacking off thousands of times thinking about what we just did.

"Well, man, I am so glad you decided to let me introduce you to this," he chuckled.

"Me too," I responded.

We made some small talk as we walked to my car. I dropped him off on campus. I never saw him again.