Repeat Performance

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Ok - I did it again. Fed an eater. Stayed in my temporarily reversed role. And I fuckin liked it.

The cocksucker from the other day emailed me a few times wanting to know that he liked it. More than hinting that he wanted it again. I've been in his shoes (or, should I say - on his knees) and understand the want.....the need......the hunger! I also think the huge load I had just put down this throat was only one of a few I needed to lose to reestablish normalcy in my semen-cycle.

I agreed to come by his place again on Friday evening. On the phone, I was completely in 'the role'. Never addressing him by his name....only his 'title'. I never asked, only told/demanded. I learned much from the many many many many many men (x1000) who have fed me over the years. I had been exposed to many different types. I decided to exhibit the one that turned me on the most: the uncaring, distant, 'do it now' feeder.

I arrived at his dark sad basement apartment. Before knocking, I unzipped my suit pants and hauled out my flaccid cock and nuts. Then I knocked. And as I knocked, I started to rise. He opened and welcomed me in. I stayed put. Eventually his eyes traveled downward to see that I was exposed. He offered NO resistance when I put my hand on his shoulder. Right there in the open doorway he was on his knees - his lips to my zipper. I could have cared less if anyone came upon us. Fuck - I didn't live there!

After about 4-5 minutes, I let him get up and then walked into the apartment and shut his door. I stood in his living room and let him feed on my shaft. But I was feeling aggressive. When I looked down and saw he still had an inch to get down him, I slapped the side of his face - HARD. "You're not taking it all, cocksucker!". He moaned so appreciatively. I couldn't help thinking of myself in his position. I swear to g-d, I think that is what kept me hard.

Pulling him down on my dick, I force fed him for awhile. But I wanted a change too. So sitting on his couch, I let my pants fall around my ankles so he could deep throat me while I sat back and watched. Again, I had him lap at my nuts.

When he went to stroke my dick I smacked him away. Told him if he needed to use his hands he wasn't a cocksucker. I also told him that was cheating - and I thought he wanted to work my load out slowly. Stroking me off was only to help him - not ME. He had a dilemma: wanting to suck me for awhile and wanting my load now. He really couldn't have it both ways. He was a fuckin cumpig. Again, something to which I can totally relate.

But I checked my watch and I had to be on the other side of town for a dinner and thought I'd wrap this up. I stood back up and decided to fuck his face. One hand on the back of his head. One hand at this chin, that I ran down to this throat. No mercy.

Pound. Pound. Pound. Pound.

He never missed a beat. I was giving expletives to him. Telling him what a worthless piece of shit he was - on his knees for a virtual stranger. I told him how he should NEVER suck a cock again w/out my permission. Anyone's dick. He had my cell. He had my email. If he wanted another guy's cock- he'd have to ask me first.

Again, I gave no verbal warning to my ejaculation, but it was there. And it was just as big. The difference was, my hand was tighter on his head, but now he had a tight one on this throat. I wanted to feel him gulp. I wanted him to struggle a bit for the load. ....and he did. As I unloaded, I gave him the order: "Start Swallowing!"

Coughing. Gagging. Choking. You've read it here before. For my true calling of being a cocksucker, I know what he was dealing with. I have a big dick. I know I have a big load. And I know how to use it if I really need to. It's just not often.

This time though - and he doesn't know I know it - he missed a drop. Maybe it was just his spit. Maybe it was my semen. It was probably a mixture. But a drop and a string escaped his mouth and dribbled to the rug.

He was still on his knees as I pulled up and secured my own pants. I just walk away - no 'thank you' (hey, I never expect one!). As I'm approaching the door he says, 'I'll see you again!'. I respond, 'we'll see' and slam the door.

How The Other Half Lives

I think anyone who reads this can pretty much see that I don't Top much. I can't say 'at all' b/c, well, now and again.......

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I am beginning to see the appeal of being a Top. I know I won't be one - but a little role reversal never killed anyone. This is all about oral. Even w/my nice shlong, I've never been good at fucking. I'm never going to be good at porking an ass. But they say the best Tops used to be bottoms. I've never really bought that.

But I had hit day 77 w/no ejaculation. I had hit my limit. I couldn't ride my bike anymore w/out my nuts aching for hours and hours afterwards. The balls would be so swollen, I swore they hit my inner thigh as I just walked down the hallway at work. Something HAD to be done. ...and at this point, jacking off seemed like such an obvious choice and easy way out. But it also seemed like a waste of what was sure to be a huge load.

I know if I had the opportunity to suck me, I would. Trust me, if I were limber enough, I'd be sucking myself daily. (Note to self: look into yoga!) And though this was completely about ME, why shouldn't it I help someone else out.

One craigslist ad later and I had to whittle down my choices of who would be the lucky recipient. I narrowed it down to a guy named 'Mike'. Italian, cute-ish via picture. One phone call later, and I flashed upon the cocksucker in me. Is this what I sounded like? Hungry? Desperate? All too willing? The questions are all rhetorical!

I made it to his apartment bldg on schedule. In a way it was kind of sad. A dark basement apartment. Reminded me of a campus apt I lived in 22 yrs ago. But I was 20 - not 38.

I really learned from my all my tops over the years. I told hi

m I wasn't going to do a thing but get sucked. That meant him unbuttoning my 501s. That meant him pulling my cock and balls out of my boxer shorts. I told him if he felt my hands on his head, it was going to be b/c I couldn't see the television screen.

Oh - he wasn't anything like his pic. Not bad - but older, heavier and hairier. But I was there. And I mean, I was THERE! My frame of mind was that of a feeder - not an eater. Not yesterday!

He had a good mouth. No gag reflex at all, that I could tell. My 8" went down easily and w/out the feeling of teeth (not that I mind that) even near the shaft. I stood and let him feed for a while. Then I decided to sit and let him crawl between my legs. Again, he was good. Taking me to my short hairs. Then he went to my nuts. I love a tongue running over my sack. Not huge on having my balls sucked - but licked? I'm all for it.

It was at this time my phone rang. Fuck - why not answer it? Not like this guy was gonna give anything away. He WANTED....no.....NEEDED my nut. Luckily, it was a buddy who was all to familiar w/my usual habits....so when he asked what I was doing, I was truthful. He decided to keep me on the phone until I got my nut. Fuck - I didn't care. And I didn't care what the cocksucker thought either. I knew he wanted it bad enough to endure whatever I was up to. Hell, I've been him - so I knew how it would all end. Kind of.

As he was working it - my bud asked me how big the load was. I told him how many days. There was this long pause and in a very serious manner he replied: "choke him". So the sucker wouldn't know, I responded back, "yeah? define exactly what you mean."

"I want choking. I want gagging. Don't let him up until he's taken it ALL." What more could I respond, but "sure!".

The eater already knew I had a huge load. He assured me he could take it all. I told him if he didn't - he'd never get it again. Hell, he probably won't anyway, but he doesn't need to know that. I figured today, I'd just go back to being an eater again anyway.

At this point I stood back up. Him still on his knees. I fucked his face. I held his head. The phone resting between my shoulder and face. I took one final hit of poppers and my bud said - "do it. do it NOW! ...and don't give him any warning." I've never been one to perform on command that way. Hell, I can count on one hand the number of times I've been sucked off in the last two or three years.

Since my hand was already on the back of his head, he didn't really see it coming - but if he was a decent cocksucker, he should have. I held him. I held him tight. He was going nowhere - even when I volleyed off round after round of my pent up load.

He tried to pull back some - but not too hard. He didn't get far anyway. I knew what was happening. He couldn't swallow fast enough. I was filling him up too fast. His eyes were probably welling w/tears. He did gag. He did choke. Hard enough I thought he'd blow spooge into my pubes - or leak onto his shirt or the floor.

But I will give credit where credit is due. He took it all like a champ. Not a drop was lost. After he came off my cock, he was still coughing. But content. He milked anything else he could get out of me - as anticipated.

Then he also remembered what he had to do. Just as he unbuttoned me, he had to tuck me back in and get me back to a presentable level to leave his fellatio den. He couldn't quite master that.

He did thank me. He did ask who was on the phone. I told him it was none of his concern - and I found the fuckin door.

Hello.......It's Me

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....meanwhile a month later. Nothing new new to report. Lawyer and I haven't made time to get together. I've been inactive in the parks dept. Work has dominated my life - when I think we all know I'd rather have it sex doing that.

Well....the thought of sex still does dominate. In meetings. While on the phone. W/every fuckin man I pass in the hall. Obsessed I still am. Fear not loyal readers, I'm still a pig. I always will be. Life just got in the way.

I've been thinking lately about the complete non-verbal cruise and execution. It reminded me of a time, back in the day....

I was getting off work. My work and living places were close together and I would walk most days. In between, there was some shopping areas and busy intersection. Anyhooo....at some point before leaving the office, I caught sight of a guy. Not the complete clone look - but close. Leather jacket. Buzzed yet feathered hair (how did they do that?). Somewhat bushy moustache. 501s. It was the 80s ya know.

...and the silent cruise began. He caught my eye. I caught his. The look that pretty much says it all. You'd know it if you've experienced it. And you knew actual introductions would just ruin it. Completely.

So I walked and I noticed he followed. He didn't try to make up any distance. He stayed behind me at the same pace no matter what. At a stop light, while waiting to cross the street, he still kept his distance. I thought I'd play a bit and went into a record store (yes! records!!! THAT is how long ago). He followed. Always a row or two over from me, peering over an album cover.

I decided, let's get this over with. I left the store. He followed. I could have taken a back alley to get to the apartment quicker, but I didn't. I stopped out front, got my mail and then made the big walk down the interior hall.

I was the last apartment in said hall, and it was a good 100 feet from the main entrance. I could see him thru the door at the end of the hall as I entered. I left my door open.

In a minute I could hear footsteps down the hall. I never invited him in. That didn't stop him. He entered and shut the door. In a matter of minutes he had my pants down and me bent over my kitchenette table. Not a word was spoken. A few moans. A grunt here or there - on both our sides.

It took 30 minutes to get to this point. It took half of that to do the deed.

There was no: "what do you like?". "Is this good?" "This feels great!"

We/He did what was necessary. What was conveyed in a spit second of our eyes connecting. In retrospect there was no chance of NOT doing it. Maybe it was fate, maybe not.

No thanks were exchanged afterward. He put his used bone away, buttoned up and walked out just as he came in. Silent.

was it completely anonymous? possibly not. If he were smart he may have snagged my name off the mailbox. But I never saw or heard from him again. Just the memory of holding onto that table while he pushed in and pulled out.

...and the look. the all knowing look.