Slut Series: Poppers for Breakfast

*Disclaimer: The following is based on true events. Names, locations, etc have been updated for anonymity and privacy. Some details have been embellished to make a more compelling story and to reflect my personal preferences.

Hi, I'm Rob. Welcome to another chapter of a series I like to think of as journal entries, or confessions, based on my prior life as a total slut. None of these are intended to be read in any sort of numerical order.

I'll start with a brief description of myself to help in your visualizations. At the time of this story I was 24. I have dark brown hair, green eyes hidden behind glasses, gauged ears -- though not too large, and probably about a dozen tattoos scattered about my person including two half sleeves. I'm 5'9", about 150lbs, slim from biking and inner-city walking. I have a decent amount of body hair - somewhere between a twink and an otter. I'm a gaymer and fairly nerdy, yet athletic.

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I remember Mark so clearly, probably because he seemed so elusive to me. He was ten years older than me, stunningly attractive, well kept strawberry blonde hair, athetic, 6'2", ridiculously intelligent, and a hung, dom top. He was a librarian, believe it or not. A gorgeous, hunky, kinky librarian. A librarian who was only into twinks, or so it seemed.

I'm by no means a hairy man. I have a good dusting of leg hair and my chest has a similar furriness. I was proud of my body hair. It helped me to feel masculine. I'm also by no means a twink, either. I was slim, never had abs, though. I was happy with my body. Maybe Mark would take a chance on me. I just needed to work up either the courage or the confidence to message him. So you can imagine my surprise when it was Mark who reached out first.

I didn't have to be into work until noon that autumn day, but I still woke up early. I took my dog for a walk along a forest trail. Everything was perfectly ordinary and pleasant. While making a late breakfast, my phone chimed an alert from a certain gay social app. Ever curious, I didn't wait a single second to see who it might be.

It was the moment I'd been hoping for. Mark, this 34 year old studly librarian, wanted to know how my day was going. How was my day going? Much better now!

Mark: Hey man, what's going on?

Is this real life? Alright, Rob, now's your time to shine. Act cool. Say something smart and witty. He's a PHD candidate after all. A future docotorate with the body of an underwear model. My drooling could put my dog to shame.

Me: Not much, you?

Classic. Could you not be a complete bonehead for once?

Mark: Honestly, I'm really just looking for a good blowjob

My heart skipped a beat. Blowjobs are my specialty, among many others. However, surely I can't be his type. Let's not panic just yet.

Me: I mean, I'm always down to lend a helping hand or mouth. But I'm not sure im your type. I'm not exactly a twink.

Mark: Let me see more of you.

I sent Mark a selection of my finest curated nudes that showed off my slim frame, perky butt, and 6.5" dick.

Mark: Hot ;) think you could handle this?

Mark sent a photo of his cock. It was 8.5" of solid, veiny, meaty goodness. My body was practically humming. By sheer dumb luck, my feigned confidence, or the grace of some god, this man wanted my services.

Me: I think I can handle that. When do you want me?

Mark: How soon can you be here? Here's my address...

Me: I'll be there in 20 minutes

Mark: Good boy. Hurry up, daddy's horny.

I did find it odd a man in his early 30s called himself "daddy", but I certainly wasn't going to complain or judge. I dumped my leftover eggs in my dog's bowl, brushed my teeth, and jumped in my car to race across town. True to my word, I was ringing his doorbell 20 minutes later.

I didn't even wait two minutes before Mark opened the front door and poked his head out. He looked around as if someone might see us and quickly ushered me in. I suspected nosy neighbors.

Wordlessly, he led me through a small carpeted foyer lined with four numbered doors and then up a cramped staircase. He was barefoot and almost walked on tiptoes, flexing his shapely calves. He was clad only in loose basketball shorts and a ratty t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. His skin was tanned and his leg hair shone golden.

He opened his apartment door, guiding me inside with a firm hand on the back of my neck. It was a sparsely furnished space. The kitchen and living room melted together. He kept constant pressure on my

shoulders until we arrived in his bedroom. A simple chair was at the end of his bed, and a couch cushion on the floor in front if it. How considerate.

Mark sat in the chair and surveyed me up and down for thirty seconds. It sort of felt awkward, but also sensual. I could feel the appraisal in his gaze, like a meat merchant sizing up cattle. In that moment, I knew he was someone who was expected to be obeyed. I already felt like an object, a toy for his pleasure and enjoyment.

"Strip," he said, his soft voice carrying a heavy weight of command.

As I pulled off my shirt and running shorts, he crossed his arms. His biceps and forearms flexed, as if in a physical display of power. I stood in front of him, naked. My chest was heaving from the exhilaration of such a simplay display of dominance and subservience. He crooked a finger, signaling me to approach. I took three small steps, to the edge of the cushion, and waited.

"Kneel."

I sank to the floor like a sack of flour, awaiting further instruction. He unfolded his arms. With one hand he started pawing at his crotch. His excitement was evident from the growing monster within his shorts. His other hand reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny black vial.

"Get daddy's dick out, boy."

Tentatively, I reached for the waistband of his shorts, waiting for his go ahead. He gave a quick nod and lifted up slightly, enough for me to pull his shorts down his toned legs. His monster sprang free, slapping his stomach. Eight inches of silky, masculine erection quivered before me, encircled in a stainless steel cockring. His balls and taint smelled like that of someone who hadn't showered in a day. The whole vision instantly set my dick throbbing. He was fairly hairless, enough for me to see a tight pink hole. I opened my mouth and leaned forward to taste him.

"Did I say to move, boy?" he demanded.

I shook my head and he raised his eyebrows in response.

"No, sir."

He gently stroked his cock, as if to tease me. I licked my lips in anticipation. My eyes darted bewtween his and his glorious man meat.

"Look at me, boy."

I stared into his blue eyes. He had a face that was kind when he smiled, yet intimidating when stoic. He slowly unscrewed the cap from the black vial, covering the opening with his thumb.

"Do you know what this is?"

I nodded. Once again, his face contorted into disappointment.

"Yes, sir. Poppers."

Truth be told, I'd only used poppers once and I was drunk. I had fucked a guy's boyfriend in front of him while he watched and jerked off. What I remembered most was the quick effect to my head.

"That's right, boy," he said softly. "Be a good slut for daddy, and I'll make sure you feel good."

He extended his hand to my nose and moved his thumb from the vial. I held down one nostril and inhaled deeply. The chemical smell burned, but I didn't care. The world around me seemed to spin, but not quite a sensation of dizziness.

"Now, make daddy feel good."

I didn't need anymore convincing than that. Instantly I took his cock in my hand and guided his pole to my mouth. I was hungry, hungry for cock.

Mark settled back in the chair and let me get to work. I started with his cockhead, tasting bitter precum. I swirled my tongue around the velvety skin, eliciting a soft moan from Mark. I yearned for his approval.

I slowly lowered my lips further down his veiny shaft. I gagged slightly.

"You can do better than that, boy."

I nodded with his dick in my mouth, determined not to disappoint him again. I pushed down more firmly, getting three quarters of his length down my throat before feeling my stomach convulse. I gagged and sputtered, saliva dripping down my chin.

"Take your time, boy. Remember to breathe."

He was a patient master.

I pulled off his dick to wipe the spit from my face and the tears from my eyes. It's been a while since I've tasted a dick this big. I knew Mark wouldn't be satisfied until my nose was buried in his pubes.

I took his cock back in my mouth. I was halfway down when I felt another gag.

"Breathe," said Mark, putting the vial to my nose and pushing down one of my nostrils. "Take a deep breath."

I did as I was told, breathing in the burning chemical. It was actually the first time he touched me. With his dick in my mouth, the poppers had a near instant effect. My body soared and everything felt light and effortless. I pushed his cockhead past the barrier at the back of my mouth, breathed through my gag reflex, and took all eight and a half inches of daddy's cock. I lasted only a few seconds before I had to pull off, gasping for air.

"Gooooood boy," he moaned.

I was thrilled by his praise.

"C'mon, do it again," he urged, making me take another whiff.

The reeling sensation once again helped me swallow his cock, this time taking him in one gulp. I almost felt proud of myself. With renewed vigor, I was working my

mouth up and down his cock, making Mark moan louder.

"Yeah, suck daddy's cock, boy. Yeahhhh," he groaned, responding to my oral efforts. "Go all the way down."

I struggled this time, feeling the resistance at the back of throat.

"Come on, boy," he said encouraging me.

I forced his cock down my gullet, gagging again but not giving up.

"Yeahhh, there you go. Gag on that cock, boy."

I bobbed up and down his pole, coating him with slick spit. I fondled his balls with one hand while gently stroking myself.

"How's that cock taste?"

"Oh so good," I whispered. "It's so big."

"You ready for breakfast?" he asked.

I nodded on his dick, deep throating him again before loudly slapping my cheek with his meat. I kissed down along the underside until I got to his balls, sucking them into my mouth.

"Yessss, get on daddy's nuts."

Mark pulled out his phone to record me, but I didn't care. I found a steady rhythm taking his dick from tip to base, up and down, up and down.

"There you go, boy, there you go," he moaned. "Keep that up. Work for this load, work for daddy's cum."

I had been deep throating him for half an hour and I desperately wanted his man juice. There was a genlte quickening of his breath and his balls started tensing.

"Oh, fuck, boy. Here comes your treat, swallow daddy's cum!"

His hot seed hit the back of my throat and I swallowed what felt like buckets of his bitter cum.

"Good job, boy," he said, letting out a deep breath.

I sat back on my heels and kept jerking myself.

"Did I tell you to cum, boy?" he questioned sternly.

"No, sir," I said, quickly releasing my cock.

"You did such a good job, boy."

I tried to stand, but my feet had gone numb and my knees were stiff from kneeling. Mark stood up, the cockring still keeping his dick hard. He picked me up from under my shoulders effortlessly. It was a kind gesture, one of appreciation for my excellent service.

"Put your clothes on," he commanded. "Since you were such a good boy, I'm going to send this video of you swallowing daddy's dick. When you get home, I want you to watch it and jerk off. I want you to think of me when you blow your load. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good, now get out."

To be continued