Total Narcissism Ch. 04

"What did you have in mind?" he asked timidly over his drink.

"I was thinking I'd make it a surprise," I replied.

He looked off into the distance and pondered a while. His name was Taylor and I'd been chatting him up for the last hour or so. We were sitting by ourselves in a booth at this bar, the name of which I hadn't bothered to commit to memory. I don't go prowling for guys very often. Usually they come to me. But this was a special case.

I was looking for someone young, impressionable, open-minded, and sexy of course, to satisfy my urge for narcissistic conditioning. At 21 years and 17 days old (he told me precisely as much; I didn't ask why he was counting), Taylor was just young enough to be open to suggestion while still knowing what he was doing. I estimated he was about 5'9" and 130 pounds. His modestly cute face and slightly grown jet-black hair in the emo style that's so popular these days comfortably satisfied the sexiness criterion. On his feet were well-worn low-cut black Converse sneakers, the kind of shoes you can smell just by looking at them.

He wasn't as extroverted as his attire would suggest. When I came up to him he seemed a little intimidated (not new for me), and it took him a while to start speaking to me in polysyllabic words, then complete sentences. But I'm nothing if not charming, and he soon warmed up to me well enough. We both knew where this was ideally going to go, so I wasn't shy about bringing up our prospects for the evening.

After a bit of casual prying I'd discovered he was very sexually adventurous, a necessity if I was going to convince him to do something most people consider to be disgusting or comical, if not both. He said he was into bondage, which didn't surprise me much given his dark attire laden with various metal accessories. Nothing extravagant; a belt holding up his jeans, a chain hanging out of his pocket that I assumed was attached to a wallet.

I'd mentioned to him that I had an extremely uncommon fetish, and that seemed to pique his interest. I decided not to tell him exactly what it was straight away; I wanted to get him into it in the heat of the moment, in an attempt to keep him from backing out. I thought if I told him right then that I wanted him to be obsessively sexually attracted to himself that he would probably walk away, a reaction to which I am certainly not accustomed.

He turned his head back around to me. "Alright," he said. "You've got me interested...and very curious."

We made our way back to my car. I hadn't been drinking that night, as I wanted the psychological advantage. As I drove us to my place, I dropped a few direct compliments here and there, hoping to stroke his ego in preparation for what was to come.

"You sure are a handsome one," I said, briefly turning my head to look at him.

He laughed quietly and blushed a little. "If you say so," he murmured.

Upon reaching our destination, I led him into my bedroom and sat on the bed, well-made. I laid back and relaxed as he somewhat awkwardly walked toward me.

"So when are you planning on telling me?" he asked. For all his meekness, he was being awfully anticipatory.

"In time, don't worry. For now why don't you keep things simple and get on your knees?"

If I didn't know any better, I'd think he'd forgotten all about my surprise by the look in his eye. He quickly did as he was told and began undressing my lower half. Pretty much every guy I get with is visibly grateful for having me, and Taylor was no exception. I was seriously looking forward to his reaction when he pulled out my huge dick.

"Oh my god," he said as he unzipped my pants and pulled out my nearly-hard eight inches. Taylor was my first lay in a while who hadn't seen my cock on the internet first. He stared at it reverentially for a few moments, slowly stroking it, seeing if he could make it even bigger. I was more than happy to oblige. I promptly became completely erect, and my nine inch dick stood beautifully in his hand.

"This is easily the biggest dick I've ever had my hands on," he said, a little short of breath.

"Yeah, I get that a lot," I responded, smirking at myself in the full-length sliding mirror door that concealed my closet to the side of the bed. Taylor was too wrapped up in my hard-on to notice. "Well, are you gonna put it in your mouth or just stare at it?"

Taylor's body jumped slightly, as if removed from a daze. He shook himself alert and immediately wrapped his lips around the head of my cock, getting the head and a small portion of the shaft wet and ready. Once he had me sufficiently lubricated, he began happily sucking up and down my dick, getting progressively deeper with every few bobs. He took in as much of it as he could, with both small, supple hands wrapped around the shaft. Taylor was an amazing cocksucker, and he was perfectly content servicing me for a good 15 minutes. He was so beautiful sucking me off, and I couldn't wait to make him understand just how beautiful he was.

I really couldn't wait.

"Alright Taylor, I think you're ready for your surprise."

He pulled his tight little mouth off of my dick with a loud pop. "Oh man, I can't wait," he said, breathing heavily after just giving one hell of a blowjob.

"Stand up," I said, and he gingerly, excitedly, got up off of his knees. I followed, pulling up my pants a little as I stood. "Now stand over there," I said, motioning toward the mirror on the wall. I followed him over to it and made a quick gesture toward his reflection. "Now look in there."

Starting to look confused now, Taylor nonetheless did as he was told and looked into the tall, reflective rectangle of glass. As he adjusted himself to this mildly embarrassing situation, I began my approach. "Taylor," I asked cautiously, "have you ever thought about how sexy you are?"

"Um, what do you mean?" he mumbled. His eyes veered toward my reflection, standing behind his.

"Have you ever looked in the mirror and really stopped to appreciate your gorgeous features?" I asked, as I began lightly stroking each of his slim, defined arms from behind.

"Uh...I don't know, not really. I don't think so."

"You're telling me you've never stopped and realized how incredibly gorgeous you are?"

"I...I don't..." His voice trailed off as his eyes went to the ground.

"Shh, shh, it's okay, just relax. Everything's alright, it's just you and me here." While I was largely trying to sway this boy for my sexual interests, I sincerely felt the need to comfort him as well. He was so vulnerable and helpless and beautiful. "Just you and me talking. Okay?"

"...Yeah." Back to single syllables again.

"Now, you can't tell me you don't even know how handsome you are."

His eyes stayed on the floor, and he pouted just slightly. He was quiet for a long moment. "I mean," he began hesitantly, "I know I look okay and everything but I don't stare at myself in the mirror or whatever."

"Why not?"

"I...because that's weird."

"I don't think it's weird."

He continued staring at the ground uncomfortably, apparently unsure of what to say.

"Come on," I said, trying to be encouraging, "you can't honestly tell me that when you look in that mirror you don't see an incredibly sexy young man." He wouldn't look, so I delicately grabbed him by the chin and pointed his eyes forward. "How many guys have you been with, Taylor?"

"A few," he muttered.

"Did they think you were sexy?"

"I...I mean...I don't know."

"Oh don't be silly. Tell me, when you hook up with guys, are you usually the one who makes the proposition?"

"N...No..."

"Oh? Why not?"

"I've never asked a guy out. They always come up to me." He shrugged shyly.

"Why do you think that is?"

"I don't know." More adorable shrugging. "Because I'm sexy I guess."

There it was.

"Oh? What did I just hear? Say that again while you look into your eyes." He hesitantly shifted his gaze where I directed him.

"I'm...I'm sexy..." He stopped frowning. His expression was more plain now. How I longed for a cocky smirk. Suddenly he threw the backs of his hands up to his face and turned away. "Oh god, this is so weird," he whimpered. I instinctively wrapped my arms around him and just held him as he put his face in my shoulder. I'd only known this boy for a few hours but I somehow felt like his protector. But from whom was I protecting him?

I didn't want to console him too much. I wanted him to believe that it wasn't a big deal, because it wasn't. I wanted to say 'I've done it thousands of times,' but somehow that didn't seem so prudent.

"Come on Taylor," I said softly. "Why don't you take off your clothes so we can see some of your best features?"

Asking a guy who was already embarrassed to death to take off his clothes. Man I have some balls. To my mild surprise, he said, "Alright." I think the fact that getting naked in itself was familiar to him made things easier, even if he usually isn't being told to stare lustfully at his own body.

I helped him take off his shoes, socks, pants and shirt. The smell from his shoes was overpowering. I wanted to just shove it in both of our faces and enjoy his incredible smell together, but we weren't quite at that point yet. As we both looked at him in the mirror in just his tight, grey boxer briefs, I immediately noticed a gigantic bulge.

"Wow," I said, legitimately taken aback. That dick seemed way too big for such a small guy. "Well, you must be enjoying this a little bit if you're so hard."

"Uh, I'm actually totally soft right now," he muttered, even more embarrassed. "It doesn't really get any bigger. It just kinda gets hard and straight."

"So how big is it?"

"Seven and a half."

"Your cock is seven and a half inches soft and you don't look at yourself in the mirror every day?"

He giggled, trying to hold it in and failing. "Listen," I implored, "why don't you take that monster out and show the both of us what you can do with it?"

He gulped quietly, and pulled down his waistband to pull out his huge, floppy cock. He bit his lip seductively, probably subconsciously, as I saw his eyes divert to his dick.

"Now, doesn't that feel better?" I asked. "Look at that big thing. Isn't it beautiful?"

"I...I don't know," he muttered, clearly aroused by showing it to me but still tentative toward my suggestions.

"Sure you do," I insisted, as I grabbed his flaccid yet enormous dick, deliberately pointing it at his face. "We both know the answer to this question, so just tell me: is it beautiful?"

"Y...yeah..." he let slip out, breathing heavily now.

"Yeah what?"

"My cock is beautiful..."

"Do you really believe that, Taylor?" I asked, now stroking Taylor's dick toward him slowly and loosely. "You like the way your cock looks?"

"Yes...it's amazing," he replied, nervous but eager. I released my light grasp as he carefully—reverently?—wrapped his hand around his dick. I kept a close watch on the direction of his eyes, and not once did they deviate from his slowly stiffening cock. I laid back on the bed, and gently glided him down to lay beside me.

"Tell me how much you love your cock, Taylor."

"Oh god...it's just so big...I love it when people stare at my bulge through my jeans. When my friends notice, I act like it embarrasses me, but...I love the attention so much."

"They should be staring, Taylor." I continued to subliminally drop his name to get him used to hearing it in this context. I was hopeful to get him to say it himself soon...moan it...yell it...beg for it.

"Yes...I deserve to be stared at," he said confidently, slowly stroking his cock.

"Tell me what your friends say about your bulge, Taylor."

"Whenever I'm at a party I always get one or two comments about it," he said between soft bursts of air. His cock was completely hard now and he looked like he was resisting jerking it much faster. "I've heard some people call me 'Big Dick Taylor.' I usually try my best not to get too hung up on it. I think all of my friends have seen me pull it out at least once."

"Do you like showing them, Taylor?"

"Yeah," he responded, in more of a breath than a word. "I remember the look on each of their faces when they saw it...they couldn't believe I had such a monster between my legs." With those last few words, his hips bucked as though his "monster" was listening and flexing proudly.

"It's not just your dick though, Taylor. You are absolutely gorgeous...every inch of you." I gently caressed his perfectly smooth, bare, pale abs and chest. I wondered how much more ego stroking I could get away with before he backed out.

"Frankly Taylor," I began, sliding down the bed and taking his boxers down his legs as I did so, "I think you're absolutely beautiful. Don't you agree?"

"Yes," he said, in one long, drawn-out breath. I slipped his underwear past his ankles, grabbing a deliberate grope of his cute feet as I did so. They twitched lightly in response.

"Yes what?" I demanded.

"I'm beautiful."

"Say it again, louder." He did so.

"I'm so fucking hot," he elaborated, quickly jerking his cock now.

"I bet you want to fuck yourself right now."

"Oh god yes," he yelled, speeding up at the thought.

"Tell him what you want," I said, gesturing toward the mirror. He slowly stood up and walked forward, never breaking eye contact with his reflection. I slipped my pants off again and stroked my dick along with him; he didn't notice. I knew he wouldn't.

"I want you," he told himself, leaning his left hand against the mirror.

"So take him," I said. "Take yourself."

Taylor continued to maintain eye contact with himself, placing his right hand against his counterpart's. He separated his two pairs of eyes for the first time to scan his body up and down, from his smooth, black hair to his equally smooth, small toes. His gaze returned to his face, and he closed his eyes completely. I knew what was coming next, because I've done it myself more times than I can remember.

He slowly, passionately leaned in to the mirror; to himself. When his two pairs of lips made contact, I knew I'd succeeded. Taylor was at that moment officially a narcissist: so self-indulgent and autoerotic that he would press his lips against a sheet of glass to merely pretend that he was able to make love with himself. Closing his eyes simply adds to the illusion that he's really kissing someone.

But it's no fun to think this way; pretending, illusions, make believe. As far as I was concerned, he was making out with himself, end of story. And holy fuck was it hot.

I kept jerking my cock, endlessly proud of what I'd accomplished, as Taylor went completely open mouth with his reflection, his right hand going back down to his dick. He looked somewhat uncomfortable, being forced to keep his lower body several inches further away from the mirror to make room for his massive, rock hard dick. I found it hard to feel sorry for him though.

"Oh god," he slurred between kisses, "I can't believe I've never done this before."

"Tell him how you feel, Taylor."

He took a moment to really comprehend what I was asking for, continuing to make out with his reflection as he rapidly beat his cock.

"I...I love you," he muttered, briefly removing his lips from the reflection and opening his eyes. He propped his forehead against the mirror, staring deeply and lovingly into his pupils.

"Do you mean it?"

"Yes...oh god yes," he growled, jerking slower but harder and keeping eye contact.

"What's his name?" I asked, anxiously stroking my now soaking wet dick.

"Taylor...I...I love you, Taylor." He seemed almost on the verge of tears. But I noticed his right hand hadn't stopped moving. "I love myself."

"That's perfect, Taylor. You're perfect."

"I know," he said, still looking into his eyes. The shadow of a smirk flashed across his face.

"I hope you don't mind if I intrude?" I said, stepping off of the bed and kneeling next to him.

"Not at all," he responded, slowly turning away from the mirror. Most people—actually probably anyone but me—wouldn't have noticed the trace of disappointment in his voice. In response, I did for him what I would want in such a situation: stroke his ego even more.

"God Taylor, your cock is so big," I moaned sincerely, grabbing it by the shaft. He hummed deeply, with confident satisfaction. I took his dick into my mouth, doing some humming of my own. I couldn't help but catch a few glances of myself in the mirror to my left. Man I looked good sucking cock.

Taylor put one hand lightly on the back of my head. I had a suspicion that he'd never been on top before, which only made his quick self-lust training all the more impressive. I bobbed up and down on the first few inches of his dick, making plenty of noise, partly to turn him on, and partly to hear my own voice. I kept it steady in my mouth by keeping a firm grip on the last three or four inches with my left hand while my right jerked my own huge cock.

I pulled Taylor's dick out of my mouth, taking a gasp of breath as I did so. "You're so fucking perfect, Taylor," I said, before taking a few more quick sucks. "No one you've ever been with has deserved you." I sucked him some more. "They were all inferior to you." I sucked some more and he moaned loudly. I took that to mean he liked being compared favorably with other people; I know the feeling very well. "Tell me," suck, "has any guy you've been with before today had a dick bigger than yours?"

"No," he breathed, "not even close. And they were all tops." I was right, of course. He moaned loudly again; he clearly had never even thought about comparing himself to past partners before today, and his superiority was turning him on.

"And how did they look?" I asked, putting his dick back in my mouth as soon as the question had left it. I really couldn't get enough of tasting that thing. "Were they as hot as you are?"

"They were all hot, or I wouldn't have fucked them," he responded, grabbing ever so slightly at my hair now. "But none of them compared to me." He bit down on a breath escaping his throat, and tilted his head sideways to gaze into his eyes once more. "I'm fucking hotter than all of them," he said to himself with certainty.

I sucked his cock faster. My jerking hand briefly stopped to rub his toes. I couldn't resist; he didn't react. I did my best to deep throat him, but that was pretty optimistic. I got about six inches in before I gagged audibly and had to pull off.

"So fucking delicious," I rasped, quickly resuming blowing the world's newest (and for my money, second hottest) narcissist. "Fuck my mouth," I insisted. He complied a lot more quickly than I was expecting, grabbing my head with both hands and shoving his monster cock right down my throat. I gagged and sputtered for a few seconds before regaining my composure, taking the face-fucking like a man.

"Yeah, take my fucking huge dick," Taylor said, becoming the most dominant he had ever been. "You're so fucking lucky to get to suck this dick."

"Yes I am," I replied, in between forceful thrusts past my tongue. He pulled out for a few seconds to allow me to properly breathe. "Anyone would be lucky to just be in your presence, Taylor." I was being very careful to show him reverence while not really becoming submissive myself. As badly as I wanted him to be narcissistic, I wasn't keen on giving him dominion over me any time soon. Of course, that wasn't terribly obvious given that I was kneeling before him with his precum and my spit covering my face, my hand furiously stroking my dick.

"Yeah they would," Taylor said. "Because I'm a fucking god."

I wasn't expecting that. I came within seconds; the biggest I'd shot in a long time. It began unloading on the wooden floor, until I deliberately aimed at his feet. After the first few blasts, he positioned his feet closely together to accept as much of my cum onto his toes as possible. My memory of this moment is fuzzy, probably because of a lack of blood to my brain or something, but he told me later on that I was really, really loud.