.....after being called an 'asshole'......
One of the men I was conversing with on-line, while simultaneously being dissed, was someone I was hoping to connect with.
His description was: 44, 5'9". Br br/br 155. He didn't mention Jewish, but it's not like I asked either. Semitic men always move to the top of my list, just because we are the chosen people.
He asked if I had poppers, because he wanted to get "poppered-up" and get blown. I think the deal-sealer (for him) was, when communicated that he would not and does not reciprocate - and I readily agreed. Like that was a problem for me. It undoubtedly made him more comfortable and more in charge.
M (that's what I'll call him) came in and kicked off his shoes. I went for his zipper, but he took care of that too - along with his underwear and shirt.
I was immediately on my knees and lightly taking his 7" cock into my mouth. While guys love that you can be a man and take it all the way down, I find it good to treat the dick right, make it feel good.....love it, if you will.
You don't have to love the man to love the cock.
M grabbed the poppers and would take some nice big hits from them. He then pushed them under my nose for the same.
The loving of the cock came and went. During the popper rush, let's face it, there was some roughness of the in and out motion. It is the way it goes. But when it died down, I would tantalize him with not just my lips and moist mouth - but I do a nice job with my tongue and all around the shaft, especially the underside.
Whereas this would get a great reaction from 95% of any men I blew, it wasn't resonating with M. But I should qualify that.....
The more time I spent with M, the more I saw how unemotional he was. I'm not saying this as a bad thing - quite the contrary. It was incredibly hot. It's not that he didn't feel - I think he did, but he could intuit well and chose to use that to his advantage.
Maybe he had me figured out by my ad or our emails, but I think from his years of experience, he knew as much about feeding as I knew about eating. He could look at me and would know things about me, or about guys like me, and apply it to our encounter. But on some level, I think he knew me inside and out - and I reveled in it.
M got onto the bed and I got on my knees beside it. I orally pleased him while he would do more poppers and look down on me.
I would look up into his brown eyes and see a man looking at me, and knew what he was thinking without any verbalization. "YOU, are a cocksucker! YOU are MY cocksucker." Don't get me wrong, he eventually said it too - and knew instinctively that I lived for dick and spooge.
In between sucks, and ball licking, he got information about my past. Me being 15 years old when being broken in, much from a man like himself - mid 40s, laser focused in his approach to what he wanted, accurate in his depiction of what I am and what I'm good for.
When he talked, he was to the point. He even brought up the fact that I should be the one thankful for getting to suck dick. The feeder shouldn't have to be. And that I should be the one thanking the feeder as he left and not the other way around. It was perfect mind-meld - though I would never have said that to him per se. Though we were on the same thought level, he knew he was superior to my being.
M seemed to be in no rush, and I wasn't pushing for an end. But here is the thing with intense men: they don't give up anything they don't want to, when they don't want to.
So in an ironic way, without any surprise, M unloaded into my mouth. No noise, no forewarning, not even the lift of an eyebrow. He just looked at me, unblinking as he deposited his seed into the receptacle he had chosen for that morning. It was a nice load - not a great one by size of volume. But his sperm had great taste and consistency. My eyes never left his.
Naturally, I took it all - and thanked him for it.
M got up and started to dress, for what I'm assuming was to get to his job, using the bathroom in my hotel room. I was now laying back on the bed slowly playing with myself while he got ready to go.
He walked back into the room all put together and saw me and continued our talk about what I am, what I am to him, what I should be to him in the future - if anything.
M walked up to the side of the bed and pressed my head against his trousered thigh. With the same gaze he gave me while I performed for/on him, he just looked down on me. I am sure he would have had to blink, but I don't recall him really ever doing so.
It was hard to describe, but it was a warm moment and a cold moment. There were twinges of being cradled and protected - there were moments of being assessed as nothing more than an outlet for his potential enjoyment down the road.
His touch, his look, this intensity made my dick harder - something that did not escape him. He was pleased that he had this effect on me. I was a plaything for him and I responded accordingly. He knew it was his power. And he knew what my weakness is/was. I was ok with that.
We talked more. I can't remember exactly what it was about, but if it was not 100% sexual, it had 100% overtones of sex. Of obediency. Of desire. Of place in the world - both of ours.
How I wanted to cum, but I knew that would be a totally wrong thing to do. It wasn't about me at all. It rarely is.
The surprise for me came as M unzipped and unbuckled his pants just to let out his cock - again. As he talked, he stroked. As he had me answer, he stroked. He even had me and let me suck him a bit more. All the while, my head was nestled next to his thighs - in a seemingly secure spot, though we both knew it wasn't. I don't mean physically. ...but you knew that, right?
M finally says, "move closer....keep looking up." Never did I let my eyes come unglued from his and vice versa. I knew what he was doing, or going to, but again, nothing in his manner would you know it otherwise. His speed did not pick up. His breath did not quicken. His voice told me nothing. His eyes were as constant as they had always been.
The second load was bigger (seemingly) and thicker than the first. It did not go in my mouth, nor was it meant to. He left it in my goatee, so he could see the evidence of his manhood.
Again, he went to the bathroom to clean up a bit. I grabbed my camera and took a few pics. He returned and saw the camera and asked if I had taken pictures. I don't know why - but I lied. I said, no, but hoped he would take some. He readily agreed. I shouldn't have lied, but I wasn't sure what his response would have been. I took more after he left. Here are some:
As he was readying to leave (again), he mentioned to me I might want to email him to let him know I was thinking about him. I don't think it was really a suggestion - but I welcomed the opportunity with permission.
Before I boarded my plane, we had a little email exchange:
BG: Been thinking of you all morning.
M: Very good ...exactly as I knew you would
M: did anyone come by after I left
BG: Yes. I'll send his pics once I get home
M: I may want you to keep me posted on all your activities between now and when
you get back to DC
BG: How about all activities period regardless of timeframe
M: That's a very good idea ... I'd like you to prepare a daily journal of your slut-
related activities and any other activities that might be of interest to me. If
in doubt, include them. it should be written in a clear bulleted format with
details so i understand exactly what you have been doing. Attach pictures as
Since then it has been "suggested" I base my hotel choices on what would be most convenient for him. That I don't mind - as at least he's not in a horrible part of town that is completely wrong for my work. Ironically enough, my next trip does not coincide for his availability - but that is inconsequential. The execution of my behavior change is what I'm assuming he's most interested in. Even if he never sees me again.
...and he knows I'm writing this. He approved me writing this post - which is the first time I have ever ever ever asked permission of anyone. And I have notified him of it upon publishing.