A 20-something guy had texted me. He’s never met up with anyone on Grindr before. In fact, he’s nearly asexual. Except he loves to get blown.
“I loooove it. But I have to warn you about something,” he had said.
What? I braced for the worst, HIV, or some tragic injury, or deformity.
“I have lots of precum.” He takes a pic to show how turned on he was just talking to me.
I’ve meet him twice since then, and each time was a delight. Some nights, as I lay in my bed stroking, I think about being his slave, and him my slave, and he is not allowed to cum unless it is between my lips. I think of his wild desperation and soundlessly spill my load into a sock, while my wife snores beside me.
But he works far from here, and it keeps him far too busy. He hasn’t had a chance to jerk off in five days. Today, his priorities have shifted. He skips out of work early and he’s driving back from Toronto. We agree to meet at 3:30, but as he blazes through the traffic on the 401, he keeps messaging me to move it earlier.
I find him in the posh lobby of his downtown condo. When I was still in school, this place was a dying shirt factory, its few remaining workers staying only to listlessly clean while its assets were sold off. Today, as with all of the industrial buildings downtown, the cement floors have been replaced with white stone tiles. They hold up white leather couches, fuzzy faux fur blankets strewn on top for showy opulence as much as comfort. The walls are all glass and gold trim.
He sits there in his gray suit and cheap gold watch, carefully holding a laptop bag between his legs while he checks his iPhone. When he sees me, he leaps up to greet me and brushes his long black hair out from his eyes. He must be the rookie in his firm. His face is soft, eyes still full of the excitement of youth. If I think about it, I can almost see his aboriginal roots. I know from his pictures that under his business formal attire are some strong pecs. And a delicious cock.
“Hey, how’s it going?” I ask him.
“I’m good,” he says, and laughs nervously. Softly, he says, “Glad I have this briefcase.” He moves it aside. He’s hanging left today.
When the elevator stops, we’re on the top floor. The condo’s lounge has glass tables, and it’s deserted. He leads me down the halls. Last time we checked the gym, where eight Lifefitness treadmills sat unused. Today he doesn’t bother. He feverishly scans his keycard, unlocking the large mahogany doors. We rush into the changeroom, then into a small, dark chamber, barely big enough to be a closet.
The sauna is cool and dark and redolent with the smell of cleaning spray. The light switch is on the outside, but neither of us bother to turn it on. It’s more exciting this way. The moment the door latches, he drops his briefcase and pushes his pants to his shins. A dark smear encroaches across the left side of his underwear. He’s been leaking precum his entire drive back.
I lay down the rules. “I want to keep you going as long as I can. Just tell me if you’re going to cum.”
“Sure, I’ll do that.” Once his pants are a pile on the floor, he stands on the bench and laughs nervously. His penis, hard as hell, curves up from under his dress shirt and tie.
I can barely see it in the dark, but I suck the top like a lollipop and taste its wetness leaking out. Seconds later, he gasps, pushes me away, and his cock spasms and bounces in a dry ejaculation. This was going to be a challenge!
I go for his sack instead. I reach under, gently lift it, and use my finger to press and massage his perineum. Then I turn my head and suck on his balls. His cock rests on my cheek as I knead them with my tongue, delicately going over the sensitive parts. He bucks and tiny wet droplets sprinkle onto my skin near my eyes.
He touches my head lightly. “Umm you’re going to make me cum,” he warns me. I release too late, and once again his cock bounces and spasms in his second orgasm. His eyes are squeezed shut as he grunts with the great effort, but he manages to hold in his sperm.
Wow. This guy is a find. Wish I could do that.
I take a moment to rethink it. This time I stick out the tip of my tongue, and just lightly tap the bottom of his cock head. It’s hard and tense, full of energy about to be sprung.
His whole body shudders. “Please, I wanna cum so bad,” he asks.
“No, not yet. I still want to play.”
Using only my tongue tip, I start from the bottom and very, very slowly lick to the top. Then I kiss his slit, and very lightly slurp up the next load of his precum. With my lips, I spread his wetness up and down his length. He leans back against the wall and bucks his hips at me. I pull away, just out of reach. The tension is palpable.
“Please, please please let me cum. I have to cum, I have to… it’s been so long….” he begs me, his eyes pleading with the urgency of impending biological need. He’s starting to sweat now, and I take a deep breath full of the scent of his musk.
Finally, I grab his ass and let him slide all the way in. I give him maximum stimulation, massaging the bottom with my tongue all the time. In response, his penis leaks a steady stream of fluid. Up and down, twisting, I go all out. Amazingly, he lasts through this, until his hands fly to the back of my head. His knees buckle and he doubles over, his powerful grip holding me to him, each breath a moan, and with each moan I feel my mouth fill up with more of his seed. It is plentiful, and thick, and nutty, with no trace of bitterness, and I keep it and his organ inside me so long that he gasps once again with the pain of release.
“Thanks,” he says, zipping up. He’s looking down at the floor, anywhere but at me as we head back down the hall. On the way down, there’s someone else in the elevator. “Good seeing you again,” I tell him, when we get to his floor. He blushes, clutches his briefcase in front of him, and leaves.