The Last Time We Met

"I'm afraid you got some on your bra. I got off what I could. You were amazing, Regina!"

"Thank you, I was inspired by my bedmate. You're quite tasty."

I stood up to get dressed, but he pushed me back to the bed gently.

"What time do you have to leave?"

"I don't need to be home until around 6:30."

"Good. Do you mind if we snuggle?"

My heart skipped a beat when I heard that word. It had been a long time since I had snuggled with anyone.

"I'd like that, Sir."

He joined me in bed and pulled the covers over us. We spooned, his arms around me and his body pressed into mine. For a long time we stayed silent, simply enjoying each other's presence. His hand idly roamed from belly to crotch and I leaned back into him, enjoying the feeling and security.

"Do you mind if I call you Regina?"

"Not at all, Sir. It sounds nice when you call me that. It makes me feel like..."

"Feel like what?"

"Like a woman." That was a half-truth. What I had almost said, was "your woman." That would be carrying the role play a bit too far. And that was all it was: some role play for a bit of kinky sex. It was immensely satisfying, but that was all it was. That was all it could be. And, if I kept repeating that, I might convince myself that was true.

"You make a fine woman, Regina: so sensual, and so sexy."

"I'm hardly that, Sir. I'm not exactly Natalie Mars."

"I'm not exactly Brad Pitt. Does that mean I'm not desirable?"

"Oh, no, Sir, you're very desirable...I mean your cock is very desirable...I mean you're a nice man...oh, I don't know what I mean."

He laughed. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were flustered. Are you flustered, Regina? And why do you keep calling me Sir?"

"I don't know. It just feels right to call you that. I can't really explain, but this isn't going like I thought it would."

"What did you think was going to happen?" His warm baritone never wavered in volume during our conversation. It was calming, but his breath on my neck was arousing.

"I thought we were going to have some fun together and I would get a mouthful of cum and, maybe, we'd...meet again."

"You got your mouthful of cum, and I certainly hope we'll meet again, so you're saying we're not having fun together?"

He wanted to meet again. Well, of course he wanted to meet again. I had just given him oral pleasure and he wanted more. That's all it was. That's all it ever was.

"Oh, no, Sir, I'm not saying that. This has been a lot of fun, and you're a nice man and you have a great cock and I love your cum."

"Then what's the problem?"

"There's no problem, Sir. It's just that...I'm not used to this. Normally, when I play with a man, we have our fun, I suck his cock, he gives me his cum and then he's ready for me to go."

"Are you ready to go, Regina?"

Why did he have to keep me calling me that? It was messing with my mind, keeping me from thinking straight. I turned to face him.

"No, Sir, I'm not ready to go. I don't want to go...that's not what I mean."

"What do you mean, Regina?"

How could I tell him what I meant? I couldn't even bring myself to call him Donald. 'Sir' was objective and defined roles clearly and safely. I was his submissive cocksucker and he was my dominant feeder. Nice and neat and predictable. 'Donald' was a man, a warm and considerate man, who felt so good next to me, so right...

No! I wasn't going there. I knew where this was going to end: a couple of fun romps, then the inevitable ghosting when he got tired of my mouth and moved on to someone better looking, more passable, better in bed...

His eyes were focused on mine. I could feel his breath on my face and saw his lips were perilously close to mine. Another moment and I would be lost...

"I mean, Sir, that I want your cock again...and I'm going to go get it!"

With that, I dropped my head under the covers and kissed my way down his chest to his cock, which was starting to grow again. I heard him sigh and roll onto his back. He was ready for round two. This time, I was going to do it the right way.

I inhaled deeply, savoring his musk and letting his pubic hair tickle my nose. Through the twilight of the sheet, I saw his balls waiting for me. I let my saliva build up and took them in my mouth. I was able to get both of them in at once and let them marinate in my saliva while I sucked each one gently. I was pleased to see his cock respond; perhaps I'd get another load. His legs spread slightly, giving me full access.

When his cock was back to its full glory, I disengaged from his balls, ready to pay proper attention to it, when inspiration hit. I moved down and stuck out my tongue, touching his ass crack. He bucked up and I grabbed his cheeks and spread them out. A look and a sniff showed me he was clean there, so I flicked my tongue over the delicate tissues. I wasn't going to go inside him, but I was going to show him what a slut his Regina really was. Let's see if he still wants to kiss me after I get through with his ass!

I dove into his ass with a ferocity that, in retrospect, surprised me. I didn't mind a bit of ass play, but I was usually careful about who and how I rimmed. I wet my tongue and ran the flat of it over his anus and the tissues on either side. I flicked his anus without penetrating. In the distance, I heard his crying out with pleasure, but I tuned it out. This was pure, objective pleasure giving, with no personal attachment. My tongue, his ass: I shut out everything else but the primal urge to lick his ass.

And when my tongue was exhausted, when I had no more energy to expend, I moved back to his cock, licking up the precum that covered his scrotum and shaft. I kissed my way up his cock, then took his cock head into my mouth. I sucked on it, pulling out a stream of precum before plunging my head back down. When it was fully in my mouth, I soaked it in saliva and proceeded to give him the messiest blow job I could.

There was nothing sensual about it. I bobbed my head up and down on his cock, slobbering over it and feeling his hair matting up. He was twitching helplessly and I heard him call for me to slow down, but I was relentless. Let him see me as I really was: a cocksucking sissy slut out for one thing and one thing only: his cum.

I drove even harder and faster, ignoring the choking sounds I was making, reminding myself of who I really was: an old cocksucking slut, good for nothing but dressing up and being a cum dump. I drove deeper, triggering my gag reflex and adding to the tears that were already running down my face.

And then, with a yell, he came, one spurt, then half a spurt, then a dribble. I could feel it, but the taste was drowned out in the burning gastric juices I had coughed up. I looked at the mess that was his crotch and cock and was disgusted at what I had left on him.

I pulled off the sheet and saw him laying back, his chest heaving with the exertion of breathing and his eyes squeezed shut.

"Don't move, Sir," I said softly, hoping he wouldn't look at me, "I'll clean you up."

I went to the bathroom and rinsed out my mouth as best I could to get rid of the slime and ease the burning. I took a washcloth soaked it in warm water, then rinsed it out and returned to the bedroom. He hadn't moved. I was glad he couldn't see my tears and wiped them off with the washcloth.

I cleaned his cock and balls gently but thoroughly and soaked up as much of the slime on his pubic hair as I could. When I finished, he was sitting up looking at me, not angrily, but sadly. I had to turn away from his gaze, lest I break down completely.

"I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me. Are you all right?"

"I'm okay, Roger, but I think it's time to get you back to your car."

We dressed in silence and went to his car. The rain had stopped and the sun was out. He unlocked the doors and got in. I opened my door and sat down. Mercifully, there was no rush hour traffic and we returned to the Starbucks after ten minutes of deliberate silence. I got out of the car and he pulled away. I walked to my car and got in. Then, for the first time since I was a child, I broke down and bawled. I had done what I do best: ruin my chances for happiness.

----------

"It was definitely...interesting," Donald said.

"I was sure we would never meet again after I was such a jerk," I said.

"So was I," he replied with a smile and squeezed my hand for a moment. "Do you remember the second time we met?"

"You mean when I found out how wonderful you are? How could I forget?"

----------

May: Second Chances

If I had been a drinking man, I would have gone home and got hammered after my disastrous outing with Donald. As it was, I did the next worst thing: I went on another guilt-fueled purge. Clothes, email accounts, social media accounts: I got rid of them all. My experience with Donald had been a warning. I had come perilously close to feeling emotions for a man. I wasn't gay: I didn't love men. I may have sucked their cocks; I may have let them tie me up or rub their cocks on my ass; I may have dressed up for them; but I didn't let them kiss me. I certainly didn't get attached emotionally to them, or to anyone. It was time to lay off the sex stuff until I could get myself back under control.

I dove into my work with vigor, to the point of working late almost every night. I helped other folks with their projects and made myself even more valuable to the company and to my coworkers.

On weekends, I hit the classic movies that were shown almost every week. I attended more concerts and even started looking into library events, whatever it took to keep my mind occupied on anything other than cocks and cum.

I was as successful as the man who was told not to think of a blue elephant. By the second month, there was only one thing on my mind: getting a cock in my mouth. I acknowledged my addiction to cock and cum and resolved to keep my eyes focused on the waist down going forward. If not for the health risks, I would have become a regular at the local glory hole.

My quest for cock inevitably led me back to Doublelist. I created a fresh email account (having nuked the previous one) and used it to create a new Doublelist account. That Friday, I left work early and went home, determined to feed my hunger over the weekend. I logged in to Doublelist and hit the Guys for Guys section of Connect Now.

I had forgotten what a cesspool it was and the frustration I experienced when I had gone looking in the past. The memories came flooding back. And then, halfway down the page, I saw it: Looking for Regina. It couldn't be him. Of course, it wasn't him. I just needed to ignore it and move down the list. Too late: I had hovered my cursor over it long enough for my finger to relax on the trackpad and open it.

We met one memorable February day and had what I thought was something special. Did I misread things? I tried to contact you, but your email isn't working. If you'd like to reconnect, tell me where we met and what you drank. I miss you, Regina.

I stared at the screen while the room suddenly got dusty. My cheeks were burning as the memory of that afternoon returned and I was newly shamed by my actions. How could I look at him again, knowing how I had behaved: like a crazed beast?

But Donald deserved closure. He needed to be able to tell me what he'd been too angry to say when he dropped me at my car. And I needed to be man enough to take it. I had royally screwed up and it was my responsibility to tell him so and accept the consequences. He didn't need to be posting ads like that; he needed to move on and find the pleasure he deserved.

I had failed him. I needed him to know that. I needed him to tell me he didn't want to play with me again. That would bring closure to me, and, after enough time had passed, I could resume the hunt for what I truly needed...whatever that was. I entered my reply:

If this is Donald, meet me where we first met. Tell me the day and time and I'll be there.

Roger

I hit Send and shut the laptop lid. I had to get out of the house or I'd spend the rest of the evening hitting refresh on my mail client. I knew what I wanted to do: head out to Pegasus for a night of being a glory hole slut. A load or three of cum would remind me what mattered: this was about cock and cum, nothing more.

Instead, I found myself at my favorite theater, catching the night's noir double feature. I stood in line at the concession stand, looking at my fellow film geeks chatting with each other, enjoying date night. I remembered the last time I took a date here...never. I remembered the last time I had a date since I had moved here...never. Slutty cocksuckers didn't go on dates: they went out to get fed.

I sat through the double feature, eating my popcorn and watching Alan Ladd fail to escape his lot as a killer for hire. Even when Veronica Lake inspired him to his one act of nobility, what did it buy him? His death. He was the classic noir hero: trapped by the consequences of a bad decision he was unable to undo. I related to his character all too well.

I made it through the first ten minutes of the second feature before I gave up trying to focus. I left the theater and walked through the darkened lobby, empty inside, to my car and back home.

I saw the laptop sitting on the table, daring me to open it and be disappointed. I knew I had to break this funk or spend the weekend on the sofa, so I opened it and hit refresh on my mail client. There was one new message: I recognized the address. Might as well get it over with. I hit Open.

Tomorrow 2:00PM

Donald

There it was. Did I ghost on him, or did I face the music?

See you then.

Roger

I arrived at the Starbucks at 1:45 and ordered a mint tea. I sat at a table and sipped it slowly, breathing slowly and deeply to get my heartbeat under control. I was wearing briefs and tube socks: I was't going to give myself an excuse to get horny. We would talk calmly and go our separate ways. I pulled out my Kindle and started to read, thankful for the anonymity of the device. I was getting into the story when I heard a familiar voice behind me.

"Is this seat taken?" It was Donald.

"N...no. I was waiting for you. Please, sit down."

He set his coffee down and looked over at my Kindle.

"'The Story of O.' I like your taste in erotica. It matches your taste in other areas. I'm glad you replied to my post, Roger."

My face was glowing. "How long did you have it up?"

"I tried to email you the next day. I posted that after it bounced."

"That was, what, two months ago? You've been renewing it?"

"Every three or four days. I wanted to be sure you saw it, if you were looking."

"But why? After my behavior, I figured you'd never want to see me again."

"As you can see, you misunderstood me. And, apparently I misunderstood you. I thought there was a connection happening..."

"Yes," I agreed, "I felt something, too, and it scared me. No, it terrified me."

"Terrified you? Why?"

I took a sip of my tea and stared into it, trying to get my thoughts in order. How to explain to him what I wasn't sure I understood myself? I sat in silence for what felt like an hour. He drank his coffee, not minding the silence. The cafe was only about a third full, which made every sound louder. I lowered my voice.

"When we were cuddling, I thought you were going to kiss me...even worse, I almost kissed you...no offense."

"None taken. But I seem to recall you wanted me to hold you."

"I did, but I didn't think it would go where it went."

"Assuming it was going where you think it was, and I'm not saying it was, why did that bother you?"

"Because, I'm not gay," I said, quietly but intensely, "I don't love men. I don't kiss men."

"But you suck their cocks."

"That's different. I know that doesn't make sense to you, but, to me, sucking a man's cock is...kinky. I need his cum, don't ask me why. But if I kiss you, that's different, and I can't do that. I'm not that kind of man."

He paused a moment and looked at me with...sympathy. I wasn't expecting that.

"For the record, Roger, I'm not gay either. I don't love men. But I wasn't snuggling with Roger: I was snuggling with Regina. You know what really did it for me? Your bra. When I saw that, along with the rest of your outfit, you truly were Regina, at least to me. Does that make sense?"

"As much sense as I make, I'm sure," I replied wryly. "And when I put on women's lingerie, it affects me: it brings out my inner maiden. I did feel womanly when I was with you. I've had those feelings before, but never as strongly as I did around you. You were having an effect on me, and it scared me."

"Don't worry, Roger. It's not my intent to make you gay. Frankly, if you were, I wouldn't be interested in you. You're a nice guy, Roger, but Regina is an extraordinary woman. She's the one I'm smitten with.'

"I'm glad to hear that, I think. But I guess I messed that up, didn't I?"

He smiled. "Tell me, Roger, why did you go crazy bitch on me?"

I laughed and he joined in.

"Donald, I really don't know. I guess I wanted to show you, maybe to show myself, that it was all about pure lust and sex, unadulterated by any emotions. It was stupid, I know..."

"It may have been stupid, but, damn, girl, you know how to suck a man dry!" He laughed again, and I felt hopeful.

"So, Sir, do I get a second chance?"

"Perhaps so. But it has to be on my terms. Do you understand?"

I found, to my surprise, that I was starting to grow hard. I liked this dominant side of Donald.

"What are your terms, Sir?"

"First, we're going to be very clear: neither of us is gay. I'm not playing with Roger, only Regina. You won't be involved in our play, only Regina. Do you understand? Is that acceptable?"

"Yes, Sir, it's more than acceptable. Thank you." He had established plausible deniability.

"Second, Regina will be the only person playing, and she will only play with me. The only cock she'll suck will be mine. I'm healthy and intend to remain that way."

That was going to be tough. I was getting hungry for cock again.

"How often will Regina be fed, Sir?"

"As often as I see fit...but don't worry, I'm going to need that talented mouth of hers at least once a week."

"Thank you, Sir."

"Third, stop calling me 'Sir.' Only Regina gets to call me that. You can call me Donald."

"Fair enough, Donald." He was establishing boundaries between me and Regina. I appreciated that, as long as I didn't wind up with multiple personalities.

"Fourth, when Regina serves me, she will do so fully dressed. I'll provide her a suitable wardrobe. When we meet, she'll dress properly before presenting herself to me. After all, I have sex with women, not men in panties."

"What about kissing, Donald?"

"What about it?"

"I really would prefer that you don't kiss me, er, Regina, on the lips."

"You're really anal about that, aren't you, Roger? Very well, no lip locks. But I reserve the right to kiss her anywhere else on her body...and speaking of being anal about things..."

I steeled myself for what was to come. I didn't care whether he called it 'ass' or 'pussy': putting his cock in my ass was quintessential gay sex, and I wouldn't allow that. God help me, I might enjoy it; I couldn't take that chance.

"...We agreed neither of us is gay, so no gay sex. But Regina is going to give me her mouth completely and pleasure me anywhere I desire. But she's going to keep her tongue away from my ass. Understood?"

"Understood completely, Donald."

"And one last thing. No more outbursts like last time. Regina is a lady. She's my lady, and she's going to learn how my lady behaves. I don't play with sluts, is that clear?"

"It's clear, Donald. Regina will be a perfect lady. But I have to warn you, she can be a passionate little wench."