Then There Was Ben

When I first saw Ben, he was at a party. Not a bar party, but an honest-to-goodness house party like they used to do in high school. It was a really fun night, and I was buzzed and well on my way to being drunk when I spotted him in line for the bathroom.

Honestly, he wasn't the sort of guy I usually go for. He was bookish, with glasses and short, cropped hair. Maybe five foot eight, but probably closer to five six. Not fat, exactly, but not a person who'd seen the inside of a gym very regularly either. I really don't know that I would have talked to him in any other circumstances, but I had to pee and he was in line in front of me, so we ended up having a conversation while we waited.

He was an engineer. The kind that makes software, not bridges. We knew three or four people in common, but hadn't ever really crossed paths before. What I really noticed about him though was his sense of humor. Not just an appreciation for a good joke, but a real sense of comic timing and word play. Just in that line alone, he made me laugh three or four times.

We ended up spending most of that party talking to each other. I kept finding myself closer and closer to him. Eventually I had to admit that it wasn't just to hear him over the music. I'm pretty certain he was finding reasons to get closer to me as well, because around midnight - when both of us had a decent number of drinks in us - we started kissing on the balcony.

Do they teach you to kiss in engineering school? I only ask because Ben was one of those kissers who took your breath away. Sometimes I like a nice beard to rub up against, but his smooth face was soft and more attractive than I was ready for that night. He knew when to kiss softly on the lips, when to slip some tongue into my mouth, when to nip my bottom lip just slightly in his teeth.

My dick was raring to go before we'd spent even five minutes face to face.

I know he knew it too, because I kept pressing it up against him while we made out. He was getting excited as well. I was feeling his hard cock poking through his pants.

But he didn't seem to be getting, y'know, hard hard. Not like I was, where I had to keep readjusting myself because there wasn't enough room in my pants for my erection. I could feel some chub going on with him, but no full-mast pole rising. I didn't want to take it too personally, but I couldn't help it. I wanted this hot computer nerd to want me as much as I wanted him.

"You want to go somewhere more comfortable?" I asked, coming up for air and feeling like a prom date getting kissed for the first time. I was trying to be casual, but what I wanted was his dick. I wanted it in my hands, and I wanted it in my mouth. I wanted him to feed it to me and slap my face with it a little. I wanted him to push it up into me and fuck me with it while we kissed. I wanted to see what it looked like covered in our cum while I licked it clean like an ice cream cone.

There was the slightest hesitation on his part. Not much, but enough to note. I was pretty sure we were on the same team, since he'd just spent twenty minutes with his tongue in my mouth. But I couldn't help but notice the way his eyes shifted down and the little intake of his breath before he agreed.

I don't remember leaving that party. I just remember the ride back to my place where we tried to make small talk and sort of ignore the seething sexual energy between us. If I'd been ten years younger, I'd have pulled into a park and had him fuck me in my backseat. I'm older now, and I've come to appreciate that nylon upholstery chafes and scrapes while cotton sheets don't. They're also machine washable.

Anyway, we got to my place, and got right back to making out. Ben was not the type of guy I usually ended up bringing home. I liked them big and brawny, with a nice carpet of hair on the chest to get lost in. Ben barely had any hair on his chest, but by then I didn't care. I sucked and kissed his nipples until they got hard. Then I bit them softly while I went for his belt.

But Ben stopped me. He stopped me and pushed me on my back, and seductively leered at me as he undid my pants. I figured he wanted to be the first one to suck dick, and hey, I do love getting a blowjob as well. I watched his little show, and I was amused that he was the one who's wound up getting his face slapped with a dick.

A lot of guys will tell you they can give head. In my experience, however, most of them are all talk. They'll mouth you a little bit, get you wet, and maybe stroke you off in the process. Some of them will try and deep throat you, but they tend to turn it into a toothy process that's no fun. Some of them will even swallow, but not as many as I'd like.

Then there are guys who give head like Ben.

I didn't know what I was in for, but I knew it was going to be special when he swallowed the whole of my cock right off the bat. Just sucked me into his mouth and didn't stop until his nose was in my pubic hair. I'm not packing a monster or anything, but it's enough to choke someone who isn't ready for it. Ben slipped my whole length into his face without skipping a beat.

Just as I got used to the hot, pressing warmth of his mouth, he started working his throat all up and down my dick. It felt like my cock was in a washing machine. He was making these insane sucking noises as he did this trick, and then started working his head back and forth on my crank.

I've had my penis in its share of mouths, I can tell you. But I have never felt the kind of dick-sucking magic Ben was able to do. In less than five minutes, just with his mouth and throat, he had me close to cumming. Like, dangerously close. I had to do those stupid mental exercises you learn as a teenager to keep from popping off.

I thought about wheelbarrows. I counted how many letters were in the phrase 'I can't cum just yet.' I went through the multiplication tables all the way up to seven.

It wasn't really helping. Not only was Ben into slurping and stroking and all those extra things that make a blowjob extra hot, he was really into eye contact while he did it. Every time I would look away or close my eyes, I would feel him gently tap my cock. Like someone tapping your shoulder to get your attention, but on my dick instead. When I'd look down, he'd smile and keep looking in my eyes while he slithered his tongue all the way up from my balls to my cockhead.

He was also really good at sensing when I was about to blow, and at least twice he had me on the razor's edge before stopping his strokes or pulling his mouth off. Then he'd watch my prick throb in frustration before gobbing back down and putting my cock into that hot mouth of his.

It got to the point where I was asking him to make me cum. Seriously, he had my penis rock fucking hard, spit-soaked, shiny, and throbbing with a life of it's own. I can dig a good edging session, but when I'm ready to blow, I'm ready to blow. Ben's soft and kissable engineer mouth had taken me right up to that line and I needed to spill over and give him my load.

I guess he took pity on me. I had this beautiful sight of him holding my hard cock next to his face as he pondered my request. His mouth and chin were wet, his cheeks were smeared with pre-cum and spit, and the mouth that I had been kissing was smiling impishly. He gently tapped my swollen choad against the side of his face, little stringers of my cum stretching between his cheek and my dick, and finally said he was going to make me shoot off.

He put two hands on my cock, positioned his head at the tip, and started this hard-core stroke/suck rhythm. Folks, I don't know where he learned this trick, but holy shit. The first rope of cum shot out of me before I was even aware I was actually cumming.

I came SO much. I came in his mouth. I came on his hair. I shot a wet rope of jizz that landed on my shirt even though I'd hiked it up over my nipples. Cum covered his hands. Cum was strung across his lips in sticky strings. I was amazed at the volume my nuts were producing.

He left me vibrating, gasping, and sitting there with a cramp in my foot from clenching my toes so hard.

What he couldn't lick off me, he wiped away with a towel. I don't even know when he'd gotten up to get one. Eventually I came back to myself enough to realize he'd cleaned me off and was sitting peacefully under my arm, evidently enjoying a post-blowjob snuggle.

"I can do you now." I said, still feeling my dick tingling from his work.

"Oh, that's okay," he said, "I'm fine."

I was a little baffled.

I mean he had just sucked the biggest load of cum out of my dick that I had ever shared with someone. He still had a little spot of my semen on his earlobe, for crying out loud. Was he just not into me that much? Why wouldn't he want his turn to get off?

That's when I saw the huge stain in his pants.

I've never blown a load in my clothing, personally. But I've seen enough cum stains to recognize one when I see it. Somewhere in the process of giving me the best blowjob I'd ever had, he had gotten too into it and shot his wad early. He must have been terribly embarrassed. I snuggled him tighter when that realization sank in.

Look, I get it. I'd had my share of early pops. Dicks are fickle things, and they do what they want. Sometimes you get too excited and one wrong rub will set them off. There was one guy I'd picked up who had a terrible combination of a hair trigger and no recovery time. He had cum in my ass three times in less than ten minutes and exhausted himself before I could even get into being fucked. I can't be upset with anyone who's struggling with a fussy dick.

I called him an Uber home, and we spent the time kissing and making out. I did eventually suck that pearl of cum off his earlobe. As he was walking out the door, I made him put his number in my phone. A guy who can suck cock like that is someone you never want to lose track of. They're a fucking national treasure.

I messaged him the next day. I'm not even going to lie, I was thirsty for that man. I wanted to see him again. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to suck his dick. I wanted him to bend me over my kitchen table and fuck me until I was so exhausted all I could do was lie in a pool of my own sweat and twitch.

It took me a couple of days of teasing and messaging, but at last he agreed to a dinner date that weekend.

I was nervous all week long. It was kind of new for me, really. I'd seduced guys before, and hell . . . he already knew what my cum tasted like. But I spent that week waxing, trimming, grooming, working out, and looking at my naked self critically. I even spent twenty minutes over a mirror examining my own asshole and wondering if I should get it bleached. (I fucked myself with my dildo instead, and came all over the mirror.)

Saturday came, and I went to pick him up. When he came to the door, I swear I felt a little flutter in my chest. He'd gotten a haircut, I could tell immediately. He was freshly shaved (he'd missed a spot under his chin), and when I leaned in for a kiss, I could smell a touch of cologne behind his ears.

My balls, cock and asshole all throbbed at the same time, and it took everything I had not to push him back inside and ride him like a pony.

Dinner was awesome. I love French food, and Ben had never tried sheep's cheese. (He wasn't a fan.) The wine was good, we had a little table off to ourselves, and before the dessert course I was already playing footsie with him.

Okay, maybe I was a little merciless. I took every opportunity to flirt, talk dirty, hint and intimate that I wanted to fuck. I ran my foot up his leg under the table, I touched his hands whenever I could, I fed him forkfuls of cheese and kept his wineglass full. When he went to the bathroom, I texted him a picture of my cock tenting out my pants.

The plan was dinner and a movie, but by the end of dinner it had changed to dinner and getting back to my place ASAFP to fuck. The whole way home, Ben was flirting back with me, and a couple blocks from my house, he even started feeling me up as I drove.

We practically fell into my front door, and I dragged him into the bedroom, shedding clothes along the way. I lay back on the bed, naked as the day I came into the world. Ben crawled over me, shirtless and hotter than a sidewalk in July. I almost wondered why he still had his pants on, but then his hand was on my dick and I was thinking with my other head.

Did I mention he was good at blowjobs? He's fucking good at blowjobs. I honestly don't know if there's a mouth I've enjoyed more. But I didn't want this to be like last time, where he went home feeling bad about losing his nut. Nobody should feel like that, and I wanted this to be about getting him off too.

Also, fair is fair, and I wanted to know what his semen tasted like.

Reluctantly, I pulled him off my cock. I kissed him, loving how warm his mouth was and the taste of precum on his lips. "Take your pants off." I said into his mouth. "Take your pants off and feed me your cock."

Again, I sensed an immediate reluctance in him. He was still kissing me, but his body stiffened up. Something was off, and I was starting to wonder if I was going too fast for my hot little engineer. But . . . but he'd eaten my cum just last week. He'd even smiled at me through his mouthful of spunk. He'd cum in his own pants, and I was pretty certain he'd jerked off once or twice in the interim. What was going on?

"Hey," I said, disengaging and looking into his eyes. "We don't have to do this. We can watch TV or have some ice cream. I have coffee if you want. But I wish you'd tell me what's wrong."

His face fell, and my heart broke. There was clearly something he was agonizing over. Even with a cock hard enough to break a brick over, I wanted him to feel good about this. About us. Consent is important, but enthusiastic consent is what I like the most.

So, we had some coffee.

"I . . . I have a condition," he finally said. The words were caught in his throat and I could see how much it hurt him to say them.

Hey, I'm an adult. I know there's risks to sex. I know bodies are imperfect. People want their sex lives to be like what they see in porn, but reality isn't like that. It's not a deal-breaker for me. There are ways you can work around just about anything. People like to fuck and we're really creative about it. I wanted Ben to know that whatever he was struggling with, it wasn't going to scare me off.

If nothing else, I didn't want to give up those blowjobs of his. Ye gods.

By his second coffee, Ben was feeling much better, and I broached the subject of his condition. "I want to have sex with you," I said. "I want you to want to have sex with me. I really like you, so let's talk and get this out of the way here and now. What's bothering you?"

He looked at me, and his lips tightened in a resigned line, and he said "You probably won't believe me if I tell you."

I went to protest, but he stopped me. "It's better," he said, "if I just show you."

I could see the reluctance in his whole body, but nevertheless, he stood up and began unbuckling his belt.

I was ready for anything. Warts, sores, maybe a rash that looked like bread pudding. Was there an accident in his past that had deformed him? Maybe he was really really small. Did he have two cocks, like the hentai I read? I mean, when someone just says they have 'a condition,' your mind starts to get creative.

But when he got his pants off, all I saw was a normal penis. Circumcised, like most guys I've been with, so nothing unusual there. He was six or seven inches, nothing to be ashamed of. He was chubbing up, and it was bending a little to the left. (Some guys are lefties, some are righties.) It had the normal color, normal veins, a nice pair of normal testicles gently hanging there. I mean, there was nothing immediately out of the ordinary. I would have started licking his balls right there if there wasn't this little . . . like . . . shower-cap looking thing tied to the end of his dick.

Seriously, he had a little cap on his cock. It looked like it was made of terry cloth. It was tied with these light blue flat laces. The end was a teensy bit stained, like anything that spends a lot of time on the end of a cock will get.

"What . . . what is that?" I asked, now absolutely fascinated. "Can I touch it?"

"Yeah," he said, still looking nervous. "It's gonna be wet though."

So it was. I reached up and gently touched the little cloth cap, noting that it was soft to the touch. But yes, it was wet. Like, soaking wet. A quick glance at his underwear around his ankles showed me that it was soaked through and leaving wet marks in his shorts. I couldn't help myself, and I gently squeezed his cock through the cap, and the material squished in my fingers.

If you spend any time having sex, you learn that bodies make fluids, and those fluids have characteristic smells. Welcome to life as a human.I'd dated a guy once who was really into pee. It wasn't my thing, but we all want to make the ones we love happy. So I knew what that smelled like, and what was soaking his little dick cap wasn't pee. I'd dated enough guys and had enough sex to know the smell of semen too, and Ben's little penis towelcap was just saturated in cum. I squeezed it again, and felt it run down my hand.

A quick taste test confirmed it. Ben was literally dripping semen, and he wasn't even fully hard. I looked up at him, rubbing jizz between my fingers, confusion evident on my face.

"Have you ever heard," he asked, "of hyperspermia?"

According to Wikipedia, medical hyperspermia is a condition where a male will ejaculate larger than average quantities in excess of 5-6 milliliters. It's exceedingly rare, affecting something less than four percent of the male population. As a medical condition, it's really only of interest in people who are trying to conceive, as it can carry a slightly higher risk of miscarriage in the first trimester of pregnancy.

Yeah, I had pretty much the same look on my face when he told me.

"I'm sorry," I said, "I'm from Wisconsin. Is that the same thing as shooting big loads?"

The pained look on Ben's face made me instantly regret my sass. I squeezed his cum cap again, marveling at how soaked through it was. "Sorry, it's just . . . you're saying you leak cum all day long?"

"It's not so awesome on this end." He said, untying the laces and freeing his dick from the sopping fabric. I took note of the way his cum ran in strings from his dick to the cap. "I have to wear these little sponges. I ruin underwear. God knows how many pairs of pants I've had to retire. I have to jerk off constantly or I'll leak through everything. Three or four times a day."

"So," I said, curious and ravenously horny, "do you cum big loads? Like, what are we talking about here?"

He looked at me with the gaze of someone who had opened up and been vulnerable and was now getting questions about something he'd never expected. "Uh, well . . . you know those glasses they serve whiskey in?"

"They're called 'whiskey glasses,' yeah."

"I can fill one of those if I don't beat off for a day."

Lots of thoughts were going through my head. A whiskey glass? That's a weirdly specific benchmark to pull out of nowhere. That had to mean that - at some point - Ben had abstained from jerking off for a day, and then filled a whiskey glass. With cum. My cock spasmed at the very thought.

Had I not been looking at his dripping penis while holding the soaked little cum cap in my hand, I wouldn't have believed him. But as I watched, a thick stream of pre-cum bubbled forth and dripped, long and slow, into my carpet. Now the stain in his pants from the other night made a lot more sense.

There are always things we'd change about ourselves, and it's impossible to be objective about your own body. I can't say I'd be upset to have the problems Ben had, but I wasn't Ben. He'd taken a big risk in opening up to me, and his eyes were filled with his unspoken fears and anxieties. I always believed that if there's a way to help someone ease a terrible burden, you should help them. There's enough misery in this world for everyone to have more than their fair share.