Diary of a Cock Sucker Ch. 06

I hear him moan loudly. He begins thrusting again, faster now, short fast thrusts of his cock into my mouth I press my lips firmly on the shaft. His hips are a blur in the dim light, thrusting in and out. He is mad with ecstasy, the driving need to cum, to spurt his cum out of his cock, fuck his cock into my mouth and empty his balls. He drives in rapidly for a moment and stops, resumes again for a moment and then stops, and again resumes and stops. Each time he stops, I lick furiously on the bottom of the shaft. Each time I feel it go rigid with obvious pleasure. I hear him moaning and groaning above me, mad with the need to cum. I feel him trembling. I reach up my hands to his hips. He continues to thrust rapidly for a moment and then stop. I slide my hands behind him, over his hips; press my hands on his ass cheeks. And I pull him toward me. A gasp of rapturous ecstasy from him as his cock invades my throat, still very short rapid thrusts. The cock sinks into my throat. I feel him shaking, moaning above me, the cock throbbing and alive. And I feel him throb strongly in my throat, as though the very life of him were struggling to escape into my throat. And then I feel his cum running down my throat. A loud groan, more of relief than pleasure escapes from him, a long profound exhalation of loss as his balls empty into my throat.

We remain locked together for a long time, his cock in my mouth. The cock never loses its rigidity. Just lays there on my tongue with my lips pressed on the shaft. His breathing and mine, both erratic and labored during his climax, slowly calm. My mouth is filled with the essence of the cock, the faint flavor of his semen, the taste of his skin, the profound sense of my mouth being filled by this organ. Eventually he withdraws from my mouth, a huge groan escaping from him, of pleasure, relief, loss, or something else, I do not know. He leans back against the opposite wall, his cock remaining erect out in front of him, gleaming in the dim light, a majestic sight. He wraps a thumb and forefinger around the shaft just below the head and begins pumping on it, fast at first, and then in a moment pumping furiously. I watch in fascination. He pumps on his cock as though his erection is a demon that he is trying to pull off of his body. In a moment, a small strangled cry from him and he arches his hips out, stops pumping on his cock, squeezes the shaft, and climaxes again, just a small couple of drops now, a dry climax.

He holds his cock in this death grip for a long time, his eyes closed, his shuddering slowly subsiding. I can only wonder at the torture he is clearly living though. The nature of a man is the constant self-doubt about getting and keeping it up. Here before me is this poor guy who cannot get it to go down.

I reach out and squeeze his shoulder in sympathy, and I leave the room. I return home, reveling in the pleasure of cock sucking. My wife greets me fondly. We make love. I have no difficulty getting it up, enjoying rapturous pleasure on and in her. And my cock deflates on schedule.