Lonely Cock Sucker

Summary: Lonely married cock sucker discovers young cock close to home.

Note: Thanks to Tex Beethoven for editing this story.

Note 2: This is a holiday 2019 Contest Story.

Lonely Cock Sucker

I love cock.

I love everything about it.

The variety of shapes. The upward curve that often makes me gag even on a smaller cock. The downward curve that slides into my mouth so smoothly.

The variety of lengths. Most cocks are five inches, give or take. Yet some are smaller... a four-inch cock is easy to suck without effort. A ten-inch snake is a massive task.

The variety of thicknesses. Some are almost pencil thin and feel like sucking a blood-warm milkshake through a straw, while others are so thick I can feel my mouth being stretched.

The variety of colour. Every pussy is pink. Sure, it may be surrounded by black or brown or white or some other more exotic shade, but the pussy itself is pink. Maybe it's an intriguing tracery of dark and light pinks, but pink, nevertheless. A cock on the other hand, comes in every racial shade. And beyond the seven or so races, it's painted in an ethnic rainbow that defies race. A cock isn't concerned with racial history, a cock is a pleasure piece with the inherent purpose of bringing fulfillment, regardless of the race of the cock wielder, or the race of the cock sucker.

When a cock is being worshipped (and a true cock sucker understands the privilege given to him to be allowed to worship this cock), there is no race, no religion, no gender. Just cock plus mouth equals worship.

That said, at times race plays an enormous role (pun again intended) when the eager cock sucker finds himself worshipping a BBC.

My point, insofar as this ramble has one, is that I love cock.

Which declaration could easily lead you to assume I'm gay.

I'm not.

I've been married for twenty-three years. To a wonderful woman, not a guy. Happily married, no less. The love of my life still even blows me. Although not as often as she did ten years ago. We still fuck at least once a week. In the bedroom I'm the dominant, she's the submissive. She's walked along a beach in Mexico with a prominent load of cum on her race because I told her to, not allowing her to come until someone younger than she wiped the cum off her face, knowing what it was; I fucked her in the ass for the first time on our wedding night, and countless times since. That first time she only allowed it because I ordered her to, but ever since I had allowed her the repeated experience.

Yet, although we both enjoyed my being in charge in the bedroom with my beautiful wife... oddly I was drawn to another side of myself I didn't know existed until I hit my early forties.

My so-called midlife crisis didn't include buying a car I didn't need.

No, my midlife crisis began when I read some stories that featured gay sex. At first I just skimmed past the gay scenes in stories that were mostly heterosexual. Eventually I was reading them investing my full attention. Before I knew it, I was reading many stories that were exclusively gay. Mostly ones where straight guys were turned into cock suckers. (But this isn't one of those stories; in this one I'm already a devoted cock sucker from the git-go, except for these several flashback paras.)

I couldn't explain it, even to myself, but those stories, that theme, made me incredibly hard. My orgasms from reading that type of stories were more intense.

Although once I'd come, and the head on my shoulders regained control of my body, I was ashamed at what I'd read, and how much it had turned me on.

The problem was, I'm a supplier of replacement machine parts to over fifty utility companies across five states, so my job requires me to spend many nights alone in hotels.

I won't bore you with the details, but when Craigslist was still alive and well... I eventually sucked my first cock in a hotel room. I simply walked the few blocks from my own hotel to my assignation, entered his room, he had thoughtfully provided a pillow on the floor for my knees' comfort, and without saying a word, I dropped before him, fished his cock out from his underwear, and took the flaccid member in my mouth. I would learn later it was a smallish cock as cocks go, and he was a quick shooter. Within three minutes I was swallowing my first man's cum.

I slunk out, returned to my hotel room, and brushed my teeth as a maelstrom of conflicting and emotion-provoking thoughts spun around inside me.

-I sucked a cock

-I sucked a cock, you pathetic homo

-I swallowed cum

-You'd better brush all that cum out of your mouth, you pathetic homo

-I was mortified I had done it

-I felt guilty I had done it

-I swore I wouldn't do it again.

Yet, a month later I was in another hotel room, sucking a bigger cock, and swallowing another load.

Cycles of guilt and denial, interspersed with ones of hunger and lust, continued plaguing me for months.

I'd arrive in a new city.

I'd check in.

I'd check Craigslist.

I'd scold myself for checking Craigslist.

I'd call my wife and have a vanilla conversation.

I'd recheck Craigslist.

I might reply with a couple of feelers to guys looking to get their dicks sucked.

While I waited impatiently, my lust for cock growing quickly... like it always did... I created my own ad.

In town on business and looking for cock to suck.

Come all over my face or down my throat, shooter's choice.

I can come to you, or able to host in my hotel room downtown.

I'd click Send and begin reading online stories of erotica. Sometimes I'd get a response from one of the people I'd responded to, sometimes I'd get responses to my own ad. I knew I was getting myself in deep, as every time my phone binged to let me know I had a new message, I got excited.

More often than not, although sometimes it kept me up (!) long into the night, I left my hotel and went somewhere to suck a cock; very rarely, the guys would come to me.

-at 2:30am I once drove fifteen minutes to suck a college guy's dick in a Humpty's bathroom.

-once after midnight I walked to a nearby hotel and sucked a dick while the man chatted with his wife on the phone as if nothing unusual was happening.

-took an uber to a condo and then sucked my first black cock while he watched porn on his phone.

-went to a nearby college to suck the fattest dick I'd ever personally encountered.

-headed to a guy's garage and sucked his cock through a makeshift glory hole.

-sucked an 18-year-old's dick in his backyard, and after taking a massive facial he ordered me not to wipe off the cum until I got back to my hotel and was actually inside my room... which I obeyed, even though I got some strange looks as I passed through the lobby.

-wilder, went up three flights to a all guy party and sucked five guys, although only one to completion, and watched a guy ride a cock.

-the wildest, went to a guy's house and sucked his dick while his wife watched and they both called me names.

Every time I stayed overnight somewhere, I always got dick.

It felt kind of like getting a new gift on Christmas morning every time I got a new cock and unwrapped it from inside his pants and underwear.

Every one of them different.

Every one of them exciting.

This continued for a couple of years before the devastating decision by Craigslist to lose tons of revenue by ending the personal ads.

Dumb fucks!

My cornucopia of endless dick dried up like the Nevada desert.

Occasionally I'd be in a city where I still had the contact info for a willing cock, but that was rare.

I went through withdrawal, which was almost as bad as giving up smoking when I got married. (As I mentioned before I ruled in the bedroom, but when we weren't playing our marriage was very much give and take.)

Also, although after a while I had made peace that I was a cock sucker... a married cock sucker... I lived in a secret world where I couldn't reveal my sexual encounters to anyone I wasn't sucking, or my identity to anyone I was.

Couldn't tell my buddies at work: 'God, I took a massive load all over my face last night.'

Couldn't tell my best friend: 'Man, I ended up at a hotel with three college basketball players and sucked all three for over an hour while they played basketball on their Xbox.'

Couldn't tell my wife about my amazing accomplishment: 'Sweetheart, I deep throated a black cock for the first time.'

I was a lonely cock sucker.

Yes, I still fucked my wife.

Yes, we both still enjoyed it.

But I desperately wanted someone to talk to about my secret side.

I tried other online sex sites, mostly with large dollops of disappointment, and eventually ended up on Grindr.

The site was okay.

A pic of my chest was good enough to get responses... although often they were just from fellow cock suckers.

I did find a few cocks though. Including once, out of desperation, one in my own city, albeit on the other side of town.

That said, more nights than not post-Craigslist, I struck out.

They'd want pictures of my face that I wouldn't send them.

They'd be all talk but no action.

In many ways it was like my college days when I was trying to get laid: occasionally I got lucky, but more often than not I struck out.

Yet what I really wanted was two things:

-a regular cock I could suck whenever the craving consumed me.

-someone to talk to about it in a non-judgmental way.

Then, this Christmas season I managed to find both in a rather unorthodox way... well, I was still judged, but in a way I was okay with.

.....

For the first time ever, my eighteen-year-old daughter was bringing a boyfriend over for our Christmas Eve dinner... a tradition that went back dozens of generations (not the boyfriend coming over, but the Christmas Eve dinner where you were allowed to open one present before Christmas Morning).

I wasn't optimistic about meeting the boyfriend. Karen was a daddy's girl, and so far I had hated every guy she'd ever brought home. Truth was, her current boyfriend Dwight and she had been dating for eight months, and it seemed serious.

Also, after quite a few bad boys, Dwight was, like his name implied, scrawny and nerdy. He was majoring in accounting and she in marketing. They met while working on a cross-unit assessment, and somehow hit it off.

So if he was anything like me at his age, he wasn't too experienced with girls.

Anyway, I hadn't sucked a dick in three weeks, so when my wife asked me to run to the grocery store and pick up a few last-minute items like she did every Christmas Eve, I logged into Grindr while I was on the road. To my surprise, a couple of new prospects were nearby. I never hooked up with ones nearby, but I often chatted with them (as I always shut off my GPS feature when I was at home on the rare occasions I used Grindr.

As I rolled to a stop sign I checked out a chubby guy like me, called Bottoms Up, and another named Bigcockforall.

A name like Bottoms Up implied he wanted someone to come and fuck him. A part of me was curious about getting fucked, but I wasn't remotely interested in fucking a guy. I could fuck my wife just fine, thanks.

On that note, in the past few months I had explored solo anal sex. I started with a three-butt-plug set. The first plug was really small, and I barely felt anything. The second hurt somewhat, but after a while I got used to it. The 'Big Butt Plus' was too big, and I gave up after a few attempts. I then bought a suction cup cock I could ride to fuck; it was kind of fun but awkward; but finally I found a vibrating prostate toy that was quite stimulating, and mixing it with a fleshlight, I had some amazing orgasms.

Point being, I would never fuck a guy, eat out a pussy or fuck another woman... anything I could do with my wife I considered cheating.

On the other hand, sucking a dick or maybe, just maybe, getting ass fucked was something I couldn't do with my wife.

Yes, I do know what pegging is... but I just couldn't find a way to bring that up in conversation with Karen without feeling like less of a man.

The other ad from Bigcockforall was quite intriguing.

It didn't say how close he was, but his summary made my mouth water.

Eight inches of hard dick for any eager cocksucker. Prefer Daddies who love teen cock.

He was white.

A top.

Discreet.

He sounded perfect. I had sucked cocks of all ages.

Over 60... they take an eternity to come, and after my really working over a cock, they sometimes didn't even reward me with their load.

Eighteen and just discovering the power a big cock can have over middle-aged married men like me. They always came buckets and soon... sometimes twice.

And all ages between.

But there was something extra taboo about sucking the cock of a guy the same age as my son Carter. I can't explain it, but it was a major turn on. And no, I didn't remotely want to suck my son's cock, but a couple of his friends looked like they had decent packages.

Over time, as pathetic as it sounds, a cock sucker becomes a crotch stalker.

Looking for the bulge. Looking for that potential next cock in his mouth.

At the next red light, I sent a message:

You sound like you could use a cock sucker right now.

I drove and kept checking for my phone to flash blue and give me that Grindr alert sound.

After a couple minutes, which seemed like an eternity, (as I mentioned, being a cock sucker is a surreal lonely world and pathetic existence... waiting for cock, sucking cock, swallowing a load or sometimes two, brief satisfaction, craving cock... repeat).

This is what a cock sucker becomes.

Addicted.

Addicted to the excitement of finding cock.

Addicted to the rush when it suddenly appears a cock may be available.

Addicted to the adrenaline pulse when a setup is made.

Addicted to the mouth watering, cock hardening anticipation of the cock you're about to see, suck, and service.

Addicted to that first moment when you see that magnificent cock (and almost all cocks are magnificent in their diverse beauty) waiting for you.

Addicted to the thrill of a cock in your mouth, gradually hardening because of you.

Addicted to the sensations of happily bobbing on a hard cock.

Addicted to the suspense of how long it might take until he cums in your mouth or on your face... or best, cumming down your stretched-open throat.

Addicted to the verbal treatment a cock sucker sometimes gets, and how it somehow turns you on to be called a cock sucker or a faggot.

Addicted to the final grunt before the cum erupts from a magnificent cock.

Addicted.

But also cursed.

No sounding boards to talk to about your addiction.

About your cravings.

Your desires.

The response from Bigcockforall was:

Are you a Daddy cock sucker?

I loved being called a cock sucker.

I slyly typed while driving, needing to respond quickly and to look as eager as I was:

Yes, sir.

My usual submissive response, which allowed even a much younger top to know instantly I was a submissive cock sucker.

I pulled into the grocery store's parking lot, hoping he was close by, when he responded:

So you'd take my big load all over your face or down your throat.

My cock was hard as steel.

I typed back, dying to feel a cock in my mouth, a load on my face or down my throat:

Yes, sir. I would swallow every drop of your cum or take the warm load all over my face.

I got out and headed in to grab the few items my wife needed.

I was disappointed when the next beep wasn't a Grindr alert, but a text from my wife. She also wanted me to pick up whipping cream. I texted back I would and... phooey!... she texted back:

Hurry.

SIGH.

To make matters worse, I wasn't getting any response from the eighteen-year-old.

God, I hated waiting.

It made me feel more pathetic.

More dependent.

So exacerbating my pathetic dependency, I texted back:

Can you host?

If he could, I would find a way to get there before going home. My wife would be annoyed, but at this juncture my craving for cock was controlling my very being.

I'd finished getting the groceries and was standing in line when he texted back:

Often at my dorm. At the moment I'm at my girlfriend's family's house for Christmas.

Shit.

But maybe a possible regular.

The college campus was on the other end of the city. Only catch, my daughter also went there.

I responded, accepting I wasn't getting any cock today:

Well, think of me the next time you want to dump a load in a Daddy's cock sucking mouth.

I'd paid for the groceries when he texted back:

Are you actually a Daddy? I love face fucking men with kids.

For some reason, the question only made me hornier. I answered in the middle of the busy parking lot: Yes. I have two kids.

I'm not sure why I revealed how many.

I got into the car after getting a glare from a lady driver for being in her way while I loaded my trunk.

He responded, once I was in the car:

Do your kids know you are a cock sucking, cum craving slut?

My cock flinched with each nasty word. I squeezed my cock spasmodically with my hand. Before becoming a cock sucker I'd always thought only a girl could be called a slut.

Yet the first time I was called a slut, while bobbing on a cock in an SUV in a darkened park, I knew it applied very well to a guy like me as well.

A slut is someone who has random sex with lots of people. I guess that was me.

I responded:

No. Neither does my wife.

I drove home, and I was only a couple blocks away when he responded:

I'll be using that cock sucking, cum swallowing mouth of yours very, very soon.

I responded, really wishing soon was now:

I can't wait.

I pulled into the driveway when I got another text:

Are you in pantyhose?

I often wore pantyhose under my suits at work, and always in the hotel room when I was making my five-state rounds... I loved the feeling of pantyhose on my cock, sans underwear. It was mentionable that I could be a pantyhose cock sucker on my Grindr profile.

But at home, I never did.

I answered:

Not today. I have family over.

He replied almost instantly, as I had just enough time to get out of the car:

Put them on now.

Figuring it was harmless I responded, even though I had no intention of following through:

Yes, sir.

I was about to log out of Grindr, as I couldn't have it going off at home, when my daughter came out to help me with the groceries. I hurriedly stowed my phone in my jacket, popped the trunk, and carrying the few groceries, my daughter and I went inside. She really needn't have bothered, but as I said earlier she was a daddy's girl, and I considered it a sweet gesture.

Getting caught up in the havoc of the day, Christmas Eve always being chaotic, I hung up my jacket and left my phone in it.

It wasn't until an hour later, when my wife asked me to share the pictures from our Christmas party last week, that I remembered my (Grindr-vulnerable) phone.

"I left it in my jacket."

She offered, starting to get up, "I'll grab it."

I jolted up, "No, no, I can get it."

"You okay, Mr. Devers?" Dwight asked, noticing my urgent reaction.

"Yeah, yeah," I nodded. "I'll go get it. I need to go the washroom anyway."