Sunday, April 02, 2017


So there I was, at Starbucks, minding my own business.

....and by "my own business",  I meant, taking in some late morning caffeine, answering some emails, people watching and yes, checking the on-line apps to see who was nearby who might be in need of assistance.

Mornings like this are fairly useless........except for the caffeine. Even if you try to engage, it's a crapshoot that you get a reply. And on a Sunday morning (oh yeah - this is a close to real time post, even though I have lots of backlog) most of these girls just aren't up yet...........even though it's 10:00a.

So, I was minding my own business when I get pinged on Scruff......

It's a great opener.  There wasn't even a 'hi'.  I focused more on the 'gtfo' and honest to god, it gave me a boner right there in Starbucks. I beat a path to the door and to my car.

Now mind you, I "know" this guy. We've "met" at least four times now.....but you've read about it here, here and here, so he was a known entity, which is why the text was a little more casual in the details. I knew where he lived. I knew he and his roommates (yes, actual ones), are nudists, so there are no clothes on in the house.

While it's April - barely - and Spring, it's still chilly out. But being the model of efficiency, one the that less than eight minute drive (yes, I'm that good!), I unbuttoned my outer shirt and untiled the laces to my boots. I walked from the car with one less shirt on, only leaving on a tee.

I pushed open the vestibule door. Being that it's not insulated, the vestibule was colder than outside. Yet, there I kicked off my boots, pulled off my socks, dropped my pants and lifted my shirt.  The only thing to remain on were my glasses.

I pushed open the front door and walked in. There he sat, on the sofa in a robe that was fully open.

I guess nudist rules might only apply to me, but technically he was not naked. I didn't care.

Over I walked, put my glasses on the ottoman and went to my knees.

He was semi-flaccid. I took him into my mouth immediately. No tracing my tongue over the head or under the shaft. I went right to the heart of the matter. The earlier text made me understand this was no frills.

Sir began to stiffen up almost immediately. His hand went to my head, albeit only briefly, as they ended up going back to his own tits. He played with his nipples while I gave him head.

There were a few times I slowed down or stopped my feverish bobbing. Yes, it in some ways it distracted from the now, but going by his slight moans, he fucking loved the technique - especially when I was down to the pubes and still making my tongue dance on the underside of his shaft.

Around this time, I heard him snort some poppers. I hadn't seen them earlier, but I wasn't paying attention or he pulled them from his robe pocket. Shortly there after, they appeared under my nose. He held one nostril as I continued to suck, I inhaled, as it was the only polite thing to do since offered from the host. And then the other side.

I picked up my pace and enthusiasm - as one is apt to do after doing poppers. He moaned more, though lowly.

Since I know, or knew (past tense), he had at least two roommates, I half expected / fully-hoped, one would appear behind me. Or to the side of me. Or to the side of him.  I'll tell you right now, that didn't happen.

I don't know if they were home or not. I'm guessing by the no talking rule, that they could have been and he didn't want them to know. Personally, I think it was a power play - that I was there, as a cocksucker only. A utility. Not a person. Not really.

There was another round of poppers for both of us. I continued on my quest.

The moans became more frequent. I felt his nuts thinking I could gauge how tight they were in ratio to how close he was to ejaculation. They felt relaxed and not up and close to his body.

But the moans.

They kept coming. And soon he was.

Heavy volleys of sperm hitting the roof of my mouth, splashing against my tongue, and going against my tonsils.

"There you go, faggot - - eat it!"

I was a little surprised. I thought the no talking rule was universal, but clearly not. This reinforced my theory that I was just a thing, not a human.

I took every drop, as you knew I would. I even squeezed out all I could....and took that too. But you knew I'd do that too.

I swallowed too.  Duh.

After a short appropriate amount of time, I got up and went to the vestibule where, I put on my socks, when I realized I left my glasses inside. I reopened the door, walked in as he still sat there recovering, he said nothing. I said nothing. I grabbed my glasses and he non-verbally acknowledged why I was there.

I went back out, finished changing and headed back to my car, my boots still untied with my laces dragging behind me.

For a good hour afterwards, I still tasted the load. It was great.

I didn't expect a follow-up text. And I never got one.

It's like I wasn't even him.

1 comment:

cyberi4a said...

Sounds hot and erotic. I get it, you were the naked faggot coming to him knowing what to do and leaving when done. Just an object for him to use.