It had taken a while to coordinate, but I finally get to meet this busy professional guy. He’s home Tuesday morning. We just need to wait for his cleaning lady to leave.
“She’s supposed to clock in at two hours😞”
Finally, I show up at his lush apartment lobby. He’s waiting on a couch. His thick black hair is braided into locks. He looks up at me and smiles, his dark skinned cherubic cheeks full of friendliness.
I greet him and we take the elevator up to his apartment.
“Your apartment smells so clean!” I tell him.
He laughs. “For now it does.” He goes over to sit on the couch and there’s an awkward pause. “I’m kind of nervous, so …”
“Don’t be.” I take off my shirt and kneel on the floor in front of him. I notice he’s prepared: he’s sitting on a towel. I lean down and wrap my lips around his gorgeous dick. I hear him gasp and look up at him. “Do you want to … piss first?” I ask. We had discussed it, and if it was going to happen then I would have to make sure he stayed soft.
“I do,” he says, beaming. He gets up and I shuffle backwards a few steps. I watch in anticipation as he lowers his jeans and lets his dick hang down. Even soft, it is a good seven inches long. The tip is still covered with its blanket of wrinkly foreskin. I carefully close my mouth around it, trying not to stimulate it.
When I look up, he closes his eyes and tilts his head back a moment. “Ah, here it comes,” he warns.
I feel it blasting against my tongue and filling my mouth. I have skills now—I no longer need to take my mouth off to swallow. Instead, I take more of it in. The piss pooling around the bulk of his dick in the back of my throat trigger my swallow reflex and I can gulp it down. It tastes pungent, and it burns like vodka in my throat. But I have no choice. Although we are standing on a towel, I have to keep gulping down mouthful after mouthful of his golden gift. I look up at him, and his shirt – cowbell beer – and imagine that I am just drinking beer through a big gushy straw. It helps.
“I think that’s it.” He looks down at me with a sheepish grin. I smile and pull off a little to swallow the last bit, which wasn’t enough to guzzle. Then I’m right back onto him, no longer caring about keeping it soft. His pole inflates in my mouth, reaching down to my throat. I push him down on the couch and he sits there with my face in his lap, as I work his dick. It is long and remains floppy, and I worry that he won’t be able to cum. I’m almost afraid to ask about the next thing we’d arranged.
“Want me to lie down and you can fuck my mouth?” I suggest.
“Sure,” he says. “We can move to the bedroom.”
When I get around the corner I realize it must have been his hiding spot from the maid. He quickly throws off the crumpled blanket, revealing wrinkled blue sheets. We get the towel under me and I lay down, face up, with my mouth open. He gets up on top of me, kneeling over my head and I see him looking down at me, as he fondles his dick over my face. I reach up and grab it. It’s still floppy and I slap myself, feeling its weight against the side of my nose.
Finally, he leans down, I am trapped under a roof of umber abs with a dick waving above my face. I stick out my tongue and lick the balls hanging above me. I hear him moan with every stroke of my tongue across his dusky skin. Finally I tilt back enough to reach the tip of his dick and slurp it in. I massage its softness with my tongue and it slowly snakes its way further and further down my mouth, like a soft thick tentacle. Finally, he settles down over me and starts to thrust his hips.
I can still breath through my nose, and little by little he becomes more vigorous until it slips so far down my throat that it blocks my airways. I hold out as long as I can, staring up his gorgeous abs as he thrusts down into my throat, until I feel a gurgle and cough, and liquid from my belly surges up around his member.
Always considerate, he stops and turns to look down at me. I gasp for air quickly and then flash him a smile. I wipe the liquid off my face with the towel.
“You’re amazing,” he says, genuinely in awe. “So, should I just cum down your throat then?”
“Yes, please do.” I gasp and take two or three swimmer’s breaths before I close my eyes and he settles down again. This time, I know I won’t get to breath until he is done, so I try to relax as he continues to thrust. It is a great mental effort, like meditation, to do this. I feel like choking again, but somehow I manage to hold out.
“I’m gonna–” he moans, then doubles down again. My eyes snap open and all I can see is his fuzz covered crotch relentlessly slamming down again and again. I feel the heat coming off of his body and I can see his crotch skin glistening with sweat. His moans are low and guttural. Soon, his dick swells and I hear him panting and start to slow. I quickly look up and see his abs pulsing and at the same time I feel a warm fullness in my oesophagus. He grunts and stays still while he pumps his load straight down into my belly.
I can’t take it. I need to breathe. I tap his thigh, and he reluctantly withdraws and leans over onto his side. His dick plops out, dragging mucous across my face and I lay there a few moments more, sucking in precious air. My chest, face, and even my hair is covered in his sweat and mucous from my throat.
“Would you like some water?” he asks, always the considerate host.
“No, I’m alright. I’ll use your bathroom though … I think I smell like piss.”