Diary of a Cock Sucker Ch. 08

A gloomy Saturday with low dark clouds and occasional rain showers preclude a bicycle training ride with friends. This provides my wife the opportunity to suggest that we spend the day together on errands and shopping. And so it is that I find myself mid-way through both the day and the list of stops. The next stop is a fabric and crafts store where my wife wants to browse and select materials for several projects. My wife suggests that I do not need to go in with her if I have an alternative errand. We agree that I will drop her off and that we will meet in an hour.

It happens that the fabrics and crafts store is a few blocks from the video shop. It has been some weeks since I had an opportunity for any recreation and the prospect of a cock suck is overwhelming. I immediately navigate to the video shop, park the car, and dash inside. I am on a limited time frame and so this may be an entirely wasted adventure, but I quickly walk into the video booth section and begin cruising the grazing ground. There are a few men in the video area, as usual pretending to closely examine the video titles. A few of the booths are in use. I walk through the hallway looking for prospects. I receive several longing invitations from men but I conclude that they are on the same mission as I and that these invitations represent not interest but competition.

For my mission here is not just to suck a cock. My goal is that elemental to the male; to take the life essence of another, to take his masculinity, to take his knowledge and wisdom, to take his power and strength and virility, and make all of these things my own. My goal is to leave the video shop more of a man than when I entered. The ancients teach us how to accomplish these goals by engaging in that most noble and intimate act; suck a cock and swallow the seed. Drink at the fountain of life and thus absorb all that is the essence of the one who pours out his seed. Drink of him and his essence will become yours. So I seek the young and strong and virile; to suckle his cock, to engulf his shaft, to swallow his seed, to take the essence of him, and make these things my own.

I see my quarry, a blond fellow leaning against the wall. He is attractive, roughly my size, perhaps a few years older than myself. I take the door of a video booth across from him, pause against the doorframe, a clear invitation. A moment passes and he walks toward my door, pauses at the entrance, and enters. I close the door behind us. The usual few moments of awkwardness behind us and he displays his organ; a magnificent specimen, bone white, average length, and a lovely full girth. He is full but not quite hard. I am mesmerized yet again and my heart races at the sight before me and the anticipated delights to come. I kneel in front of him, my subjugation on display, our roles in the ballet defined. He is male power and I seek his essence. With my fingers on his belt, I urge him to drop his slacks which he does. And there it is before me, his beautiful organ and lovely full balls hanging down between his legs. His cock not yet quite hard but it is throbbing gently in anticipation of the pleasure to come. The balls full of the essence of his life. A small bit of manly dew just at the tip of his cock offering the promise of more to come. I look longingly at the shaft, small ripples apparent, a lovely snow white color, perfectly straight and round, throbbing gently. The cock beckons to me.

I lean forward, place my hands on the wall on either side of his hips, and caress the cock with my face. I emit a soft moan of ecstasy as I feel the strength of his masculinity through the skin of his cock. I rub my face on his cock, press the shaft against his belly and legs with my face. I moan again in gratitude for the gift before me. I feel the strength of him swell as his cock hardens against my face. I caress my cheeks against the shaft, now jutting out firmly, the power of him apparent and fully on display. I rub first one cheek and then the other against the now rock hard shaft, one cheek and then the other, again and again. I lean back and look at him. That awe inspiring hard cock bobbing in front of my face, beckoning to me, calling to me, demanding of me. I moan while I look upon the very definition of a man, the manifestation of male power and strength on display before me. The rigid cock jutting out, the full receptacles hanging below, proclaiming to all; I am strength and power. My essence contains the very soul of life. Come ye all and drink from me and live.

I open my mouth and lean forward. I see the head of his cock as though in a slow motion dream. I feel the faint heat of his shaft as my mouth engulfs his cock, my lips pressing on the base of the shaft. I feel the most profound satisfaction as I kneel there, supplicating in front of him, my mouth full of his cock. I feel him stiffen with the first overwhelming sensation of pleasure from the softness and warmth of my mouth on his cock. I wait, wait for him to relax, wait for the exhalation of his breath, wait for him to accept my most profound offering, wait for him to allow me to suck the very life essence of him out of his cock. I both hear and feel him relax, the threshold of danger surpassed, his cock alive in my mouth, his full balls hanging below waiting to burst forth their essence, the stage set, the roles defined, the players in place, the drama begins.

My lips on the shaft of his cock, soft and warm. The taste of his skin radiates through me. The texture of the skin of his cock enervating. I draw my lips up the length of his cock shaft, a soft feathery caress of my lips on the skin, memorizing each ripple of this magnificent organ in my mouth. I pause just below the head of his cock, press my lips on the shaft, slide my lips slowly up and down just there, below the head. I feel his pleasure as a soft moan escapes from him. I slide my lips back down the shaft; caress the base of the shaft firmly with my lips, sucking on the skin. I feel the head of his cock probing the entrance to my throat, his hips arch, a small begging thrust. I draw my lips up the shaft, up and all the way off of the shaft, my lips pressing with passion on the head of his cock, my tongue a caressing farewell as I withdraw off of him. I look, the cock wet and glistening from my mouth, throbbing in front of me, urging me to return. I slide my lips back over the head of his cock, gently squeezing the head of his cock in my mouth, gently sucking on it, pulsing my mouth on the head of his cock. I feel him stiffen with pleasure, his hips thrust and I let him drive the shaft into my mouth, fill my mouth, I hear him gasping with pleasure. I hold him there with my lips pressing on the base of his shaft, his hips slowly thrusting, fucking his cock into my mouth.

And here we have it, the artist cock supplicant plying his skills. It would be easy enough to rapidly suck on the head of his cock to bring him off. But what would be the point? My interest is the enjoyment of his organ at my leisure. I want to elevate and carry his pleasure along with me on a prolonged ride, a slow scaling of the mountain, a rapturous ascent to the land of spurting cum from which empty balls are the only escape. And his interest is a pleasurable blowjob. That is why he is here. He could wank off at home if all he wanted was to empty his balls. But he came here with his fantasy of receiving the most exquisitely pleasure blowjob performed on his cock. And so I raise his pleasure to just the edge of soaring orgiastic ecstasy, hold him there for a moment or two, perhaps longer, the edge of his complete bliss in sight, and then lower him back into a valley of control and rapturous longing. And the artist in me performs this feat again and again, thinks of the strategies, constantly takes in the reactions of my companion, adjusts and alters the technique, to raise and lower his pleasure, to manage and control his path to our shared goal of his rapturous climax in my mouth.

I press my lips on the shaft, firmly, the texture and taste of his skin exhilarating. I slide my lips up and down on the shaft, varying the speed from slow when at the pleasure point near the head of his cock, to rapid and very rapid sucking when near the less sensitive base of the organ. I occasionally lap the underside of the shaft with my tongue, again varying the speed and pressure. I hear his breathing. The room goes silent save for the sound of his breathing and the ministrations of my mouth on his cock. Sucking on his cock. On my knees in front of him and sucking on his cock. I place my hands on his hips, the skin warm and firm. I feel his pleasure as my mouth slides up and down on his shaft, sucking on his shaft. His legs tremble with the approaching climax. I pause and let him soak his cock in my mouth, the taste of him filling my senses. He arches his hips, thrusts slowly, his cock slowly fucking in and out of my mouth. He uses my mouth to caress his cock, adjusting the location of his shaft in my mouth, the speed and depths of his thrusts, to provide the maximum pleasure that is just short of reaching climax. We have established a common trust, unspoken, but well understood by us both. He will climax in my mouth, eventually. But there is no rush for either of us to that end. We can both fully enjoy each rapturous moment along the path. And so it is that we continue like this for a long time, I varying the pressure of my lips on his shaft and occasionally licking and caressing with my tongue. And he thrusting his hips forward, fucking his cock into my mouth, varying the speed and depth of his thrusts. Two artists, working together to the same goal, for him a slow ascent to soaring rapturous ecstasy where I am rewarded with the flood of his semen in my mouth.

His cock is warm and alive in my mouth. I press my lips and slide them up and down on the shaft. I feel his body shaking in front of me. I know the end is near. I reach between his balls with one of my hands, cup and gently lift his balls. I gently roll them in my hand, milking the cum in his balls. I hear him inhale sharply at this new sensation, the pleasure sweeping through him. He shakes and trembles in front of me, his hips arched but not thrusting in a remarkable display of self-control and restraint. I continue the firm but very slow sliding of my lips up and down the shaft, just below the head. I can well imagine that it must take all of his concentration to lean back and enjoy this, all his restraint to not take my head in his hands and fuck his cock into my mouth until he cums. I gently lift his balls with my hand. His shaking increases, his climax imminent. I arch my neck, jamming the top of his cock against the roof of my mouth. I very rapidly lap the underside of his cock with my tongue, fluttering my tongue on it. The effect is immediate as he stiffens dramatically and I hear a great inhalation. I feel his cock swell and go rock hard. I continue to flutter my tongue. And I feel him throb and burst his semen into my mouth. He groans loudly as he spews his cum out of his cock. I cradle his throbbing organ on my tongue and press my lips firmly on the shaft, letting him pump his semen into my mouth. I continue to gently lift and squeeze his balls in my hand. His body is rocked with spasms as he spews out his cum into my mouth.

I slide my lips down to the base of his shaft, squeeze firmly with my lips on the shaft, and draw halfway up the shaft. I feel more semen flow out of the end of his organ. I repeat this, and again, and again. His shaking slowly subsides and he leans back against the wall, my mouth holding his cock. He loses the rigidity in his organ. We remain joined in our long repose, his climax coming to final resolution, his cock in my mouth bathing in his semen. I wait for him to signal, looking up at him with his cock in my mouth. Eventually he opens his eyes, looks down, and with the most delicate pressure, very gently pushes my forehead in an acknowledgement that our ballet has come to an end. I carefully withdraw my mouth from his cock so that I do not make a mess with my mouthful of his cum. His cock is in front of me, deflated now. Still magnificently lovely with the wetness of my mouth and his semen. But the strength of him is gone from that great organ. I have it in my mouth. I look up at him and while we have eye contact, I swallow his cum, a slight acknowledging nod from him that the act is now complete. I have consumed his essence. His power and strength are now mine.

I rise and we face each other. He makes a tentative reach for me in what is clearly intended as an offer of reciprocation. I politely but firmly decline. And in a remarkable testament to the form and function of anonymous male sex, we utter our very first words to each other. I respond with thanks, both for the act just completed and his offer and I respond that I am pressed for time and have to go. And he acknowledges with thanks and compliments my skill. And we both depart from the world of anonymous male sex, each of us returning to our separate lives.

In my case it is back to the car and then back to the parking lot of the crafts and fabrics store. I have to wait only another half hour before my wife arrives, bundled both with packages and joy in my waiting for her. We deposit the detritus of shopping in the trunk. I ask her to repose to the back seat, where after some give and take concerning not waiting for home, I join her. I remove her jeans and after making my intent clear, I receive a gasp of 'so that is what you want'. And she is there in front of me, that great mound upon which all men worship, exquisitely beautiful in form, elegant in design and function, the versatility of which I am now going to enjoy. And of course, so is she, the other cars surrounding us in the parking lot serving as mere impotent spectators. And I have her in my mouth, the stimulus of potential exposure no doubt adding to her quick and hip surging explosion in my face.