His Fantasy

It’s my last night in Toronto and I’m eager to get out after a hard day of business tripping. I step out of my hotel and just walk, aimlessly, joyfully, as the setting sun paints the metallic towers and sidewalks gold.

I’ve had enough fun the past two days for a while. But when my Android buzzes I can’t help looking. This time, it’s Jack’d. Back in University Town the app is populated by the same 28 guys. Here, the grid is full of exciting possibilities.

His profile says he’s Filipino, and the 21 year old’s mysterious smile is hooded by a nearly invisible moustache. I send a quick greeting back and stuff my phone back into my tight jeans.

It’s dark now but Yonge street is awash in colour and the throngs still rush by with renewed restlessness.

I pass a delicious pizza place. Should I go in? I poke my head in and check the slices, taking a deep breath and smelling the doughy cheesiness. The owner looks at me expectantly, and I leave. What if there’s something better in the next corner? I can’t commit. I won’t know if this will quench my craving until I’ve checked out the other side. I’ve made that mistake before.

My phone keeps buzzing and I respond automatically, not really paying attention. Face pic? Sure here you go, unlocked for u. My stories are making you horny? Great to hear, and hey they’re fun to write lol. You have a car?  Well that’s nice but I have a hotel room, much more fun. Lol haha and fuck he’s gonna be knocking at my door in 40 minutes.

When I finally look up, the people are gone and all around me are steely dark office buildings. Belly rumbling and full of butterflies, I let Google be my guide through the darkness.

On the way, I pick up a Starbucks to keep me going.

I make it back to my room in time to throw some water on my face and pick my socks off the floor before he knocks. Heart racing, I take a deep breath, smile and open the door.

He matches his picture. He stands in the hallway looking a little nervous.

“Come in,” I say, beaming. “I’m glad you could make it! Make yourself at home.”

He takes off his shoes and soon he’s standing in front of my bed, wearing nothing but a shirt, right red boxer briefs, and a hard on.

“Is this where it happened?” He asks, referring to my last story.

“Yeah, right here on the bed, he was watching TV for a while.” I tell him.

He’s a little shy. I smile and try to make him as comfortable as I can. “So, what were you thinking of doing today?” I run my hands over his tan legs.,

His eyes meet mine. “I’ve always wanted to cum in a guy’s mouth. But I’ve never found anyone with enough patience.”

“I’m glad you found me then.” My hands move to the thin cloth holding in his erection. I slowly stroke it, feeling it’s length. It yearns to spring out.

He relaxes and spreads his legs, and I finally gaze into his eyes. “Do you make out?” He asks.

I notice his lips are soft and thick. His skin was so smooth and soft. I lean over him, touch his lips with my finger, parting them slightly. I’m drawn to them.

I can feel his hot breath through his nose as we kiss. I’m aware that I have coffee breath but he doesn’t seem to mind. My hands make it down into his briefs and I wrap my fingers around his penis. When released from its fabric confines, it springs up, and he playfully bites into my lip. While our tongues fight for dominance I stroked him slowly along his length.

He’s breathing fast now through his nose as I end our long kiss. I lay back on the pillow beside him to have a look at my prize in hand. He’s cut. That’s all I have time to gather before he swings his leg over and gets on top of me, straddling my belly.

When grasps my shoulders and pulls himself up, I rejoice. He has been reading my stuff! I get comfortable against the headboard and open wide. He looks down at me, straight into my eyes as he carefully presses his dick into my waiting mouth. He thrusts gently at first, and I feel his perfectly sized dick squeezing toward my throat, teasing it but not cutting off my air. Size matters. I could do this forever.

Too soon he stops, moves away down over my legs. I follow the cock, eager to fill the void in my mouth. He sits on the bed and I lick his balls, moving further and further down, until I’m tonguing his smooth hole. He holds onto his knees and enjoys it.

“Sit on my face,” I tell him. I shuffle to the middle of the bed and lay face up, expecting him to settle over me. He does, but unlike the two men who have done so before, he faces my feet. Looking down his back, he gingerly lowers his ass over my face. I lick him earnestly, enjoying watching the reactions in his face.

He turns away, and I feel his hands reaching inside my pants, pulling out my own penis and stroking.

But we both know what he’s there for. Soon I’m chest down in front of him again as he lays back on the pillow.

“Do you have any porn on that TV?” He asks.

“No sorry – want to use my laptop?”

“It’s fine, I’ve got  my phone.” He swipes a few times and soon, holding the phone with one hand, stares into some fantastic scene while I suck on him.

He moves his other hand to his penis, pushing me aside as he begins to stroke himself. Firmly, I take his hand and chastise him. “Patience! We have lots of time.”

I’m able to get him all the way into my throat, comfortably, and still breathe. Soon, I try some things I’ve never done. I make a wave with my tongue, sliding along the underside while swallowing, and he suddenly gasps. “Oh yeah keep doing that,” he says. His phone dangles unseen in his hand.

Gladly! I feel like I could suck his dick forever. I show him my excitement by repeating the movement, improving it with practice. All the while he moans delightfully. His hand restlessly squeezes his inner thigh, clearly unadapted to being so useless during such pleasure.

His other hand holds his phone out in front of him, but his eyes are closed. When he cums, it is unannounced. His chest arches to the ceiling and his pelvis thrusts up, trying to impale. With a gasp, his sperm gushes thickly through my closed lips, six, seven, eight spurts joining together into a delicous wad that fills my mouth. A moment later he makes a sound between a laugh and a cry of pain and jerks his body away from me. It’s over. His few raw nerves that remain, having been cut away at birth, leave no transition between the ecstasy of release and the pain thereafter. I glide his load around my mouth and swallow it thickly.

He leaves quickly, as one should, after uttering his heartfelt thanks. Me? I feel great. The tiredness of the day is gone.

It’s late now and my belly growls, so I order some cake from room service. It comes on a square plate, gooey with salted caramel. I decide to have my cake in bed, and I eat it slowly while I chat with my wife about our kids’ days on Facebook.

The Chase

The lobby of the Toronto Sheraton is ostentatious blend of redwood pillars and polished granite. At midday, suited business travellers either stride purposefully through it, or sit sipping Starbucks lattes and read on their phones while they wait for their comrades to arrive.

Me? I’m just looking for the bathroom. “On the second floor, at the top of the escalator. See you at 12,” my lunchtime appointment had told me.

“Can you send a face pic please?”

There was no response, so I’m waiting, feeling conspicuous, as I lean over the polished chrome railing. I carefully watch the the people below me from my perch on the second floor mezzanine, looking for some sign of him. A few meters away, a constant stream of well dressed men emerge from the conference centre hallways and push open the white door to the men’s room. Although there’s a lot of activity, it could still work in theory. I had inspected the facilities earlier. The stalls were fully enclosed.

It’s 12:10 and nobody’s approached me. I wish he’d sent that face pic.

“Am I in the right building?” I text. I’m convinced everyone is watching me as I take and send him a picture of the restroom door.

“I’m in the washrooms there. But I’m coming out. It’s too busy. We’ll find another.”

“OK”

“Just follow me discreetly.”

“What do you look like?????!”

“I’m wearing blue. Asian guy with glasses.”

Dropping all pretence, I stand there and watch the door. A group of five asian men wearing blue with glasses walk out. None of them even glance at me, but soon after, a young guy wearing an off-white dress shirt darts ahead and speed-walks away. I jog after him as I try to get a closer look. Did he have glasses? His shirt’s a little blue, maybe, if you look at it under the right light.

I jog until I’m close enough then break into a fast walk, but he charges on ahead down the hall and rounds a corner. Shit, a meeting room empties, and he’s lost in the crowd. I’m blocked by a throng of suited, silver-haired executives as they shake each-other’s hands and rape the refreshment table. The shortest of the men is six feet tall.

“Oh, excuse me,” one says as I brush past him. “Sorry, sir,” a smiling septuagenarian apologizes after I elbow him in the groin. Did I mention I’m in Canada?

Thankfully the narrow hallway turns right, and I emerge into the great hall. I look around quickly, but I don’t see my quarry anywhere. Fuck! He’s probably the wrong guy. Why the hell didn’t he send that face picture??

I see some bathrooms to my right, but I decide to keep looking for him. The great hall is filled with people and refreshment carts. I make my way across the gold carpet to the other side. That’s when I see him, sitting on a bench, hunched over his phone.

I get as close as I can, but I can’t see what’s on his phone. Instead, I stand on the other side of a column and check mine. There’s a message waiting.

“Follow me into the washrooms.”

I have no idea when it was sent. Is this text leftover from before, or could he be watching me right now? My heart races as I text him again.

“Are you the guy sitting down?”

“Yeah.”

“Lol.”

“Ok let’s try to go straight to those washrooms.”

The young man on the bench stuffs his iPhone in his dress pants, gets up, and bolts across the room. I don’t bother being inconspicuous this time. I speed walk right behind him. I can’t let him get away again, because frankly, it would be embarrassing. This is supposed to be a hookup, not Mission Impossible.

Suddenly a man in a tie darts out in front of him and slaps him on the shoulder. “Hey John! You’re always in a hurry,” he chuckles. He stands there with his arm out, confused, as we keep going.

At last, we both enter the washroom. This one is less populated at the moment. Without even looking at me, he heads to the last stall and closes the polished wooden door. I hear it latch shut. I pretend to use the urinal as I wait for a Gordon Gecko lookalike to leave. True to character, he pisses, straightens his tie in the mirror, and walks right out the door.

Uncertainty overwhelms me again. Maybe I was texting the wrong guy back there. All I had were the texts. The man I’ve been following hadn’t even acknowledged me once since we started.

But then, he had gone from one bathroom to another. Buoyed by this tiny piece of logic, I take a deep breath and knock quietly on the stall.

The door unlatches and he lets me in. At last, we are alone. I sit on the toilet and look up. Finally, I get to see my hookup’s face. He’s twenty-one, and his slightly-blue dress shirt’s too big for him. He raises his finger to his lips and signals for me to not speak. Then he lets down his pants. I pull down his grey boxer briefs and unleash his cock.

His dick was the only picture he sent me, and it was enough to start me on this hotel chase. His balls are large and perfectly smooth, and his cock is thick and straight. It feels comfortable in my mouth, like it belongs there.

While I suck, he leans forward and keeps looking through the crack in the door. I’m focused on my job, but find it is difficult to do without making it obvious to everyone in the room that there’s a wet, smacking blowjob going from the next stall. The conditions are hard, but the thrill makes up for it.

That is, until I hear a loud voice right outside our door.

“OKAY GUYS. GAME’S OVER.”

We both freeze and try to peek through the crack in the door. I can see a man’s face outside. Time stops, the hairs on the back of my neck levitate and I want to be anywhere but here, but there’s nowhere to go.

Another voice answers.

“Looks that way. I’m going to shoot Michael an email about the PDP.”

I breath a sigh of relief. We’re free to continue, but he’s deflated. I start from scratch.

Eventually, though all the toilet flushes and listening to backroom deals, I manage to coax out his load. After he zips up, we whisper to each-other. He might visit University Town soon. It would be nice to show him what I can do when I don’t have to be utterly silent.

But today, the thrill was in the chase.

A Happy Hour

“I’ve done my homework. I’ve read everything you’ve written so far.”

The asian man sat beside me, one leg up on my king sized bed of the Hilton in Toronto. He’s small in stature, and wears a preppy checkered shirt. He looks young for a 34 year old, but he gazes at me with worldly confidence and readiness through his trendy square glasses.

“Do you write about every encounter?” he asks.

“Well, just the exciting ones, or ones with different settings. I don’t want to repeat myself too much. So you know what I like. But I don’t know anything about you. What do you like?”

“Well, you know a little,” he says. A few days before this, he’d followed me on Tumblr. He has a lot of interesting reposts of his own.  “My tumblr is mostly fantasy. Things I haven’t been able to find a guy willing to do.”

“Oh?”

He stands up and sheds his shirt. “I found one of your stories in particular very interesting…” he pauses, perhaps hoping I’d get the message. My eyes beg him to go on. “First, I want to try pissing down your throat.”

I stare at him, trying to appear aghast but I can’t. Instead I start to laugh. “Oh yeah! There’s no good way to say that, is there?” I excitedly duck into the bathroom and grab a white towel, spread it on the floor beside the bed.

He steps out of his pants, revealing bright purple pouch briefs, the words “BLOW!” boldly stitched across the waistband. He tosses his glasses on top of his shirt on the suitcase stand, and I fall to my knees in front of him.

“You don’t want to use the tub?” he asks, fingers slipping inside his briefs.

“Nah, we’ll be fine.” I can’t imagine my new buddy being as big, or rough, as my Indian friend. That time, I did need a tub.

He pulls out his penis, thankfully still flaccid, and I gently wrap my mouth around it, trying not to touch it. He stares down at me, incredulously, for long moment before I feel his cock pulse and let out a small amount of hot liquid.

Unlike the two others I’ve done, he didn’t drink much before this, so I get the full flavour. It’s new to me. He watches me as I slosh it around my mouth, enjoying the taste – like a hoppy beer – and swallow.

“You like that?” he asks in amazement. “Have some more.”

Satisfied that I can take it, he relaxes and pisses. I let it tickle my tongue, slosh around my mouth, waiting to the last second to close my lips around it and swallow. I enjoy every moment of it as he empties himself into me, filling me, allowing me to be his vessel. Five gulps later, and it’s done. I’ve consumed it all, and the towel is dry.

I’m staring at his uncut penis. His whole body is shaved smooth. Even under his arms had no more than a day’s growth of stubble. His balls were smallish, hanging from under an impressively sized cock. As I lick, it grows revealing what would be an interesting quirk – a slight curve to the left. I pressed forward, eliciting a gasp when it enters my throat.

“Not too fast. I’ve got other plans for you tonight. I’m going to sit down.” He pulls out, and walks along the room the the office chair in front of the small desk, and plunked his naked butt into it, spinning it around to face me. Then he loops his arms around his legs and pulls them into the air.  “Do you like rimming?” he asks, pointing his impossibly smooth anus up at me.

“I’ve done it once, it was fun,” I tell him. I kneel down in front of the chair and give him a doggy lick. But the chair is too low to the ground and I’m having trouble getting the right angle.

“Get on the bed,” he orders. “I’ll just sit on your face. You’d like that, wouldn’t you.”

“Yes!” I quickly gather the hotel cards from the pillows, fling them against the wall, and lay down on my back. He gets on the bed and squats over my mouth. All I see are his balls, cock, and face staring at me intently, as he gingerly lowers his anus to my mouth. I poke up at it with my tongue, swirl up, and then press inside. I see an instant reaction on his face. This is fun.

He’s being too gentle, though. I reach up and pull his hips down, forcing him to smother my mouth with his ass. He gets the idea and lets down his weight, and I sink into the pillow-top mattress, as I trace circles around his pucker with my tongue.

By now his cock is a full 6” and the red head peeks out of its brown covers. He steps off onto the floor. “Slide over,” he tells me. “Lean your head off the bed.”

My heart flutters. Soon I”m staring up into his perineum, holding my mouth open. He slides in, gently at first.

“You OK?” he asks.

“Yes–” I start, muffled.

He grabs my arms and slowly pulls himself forward, all the way in, and holds it there. I feel my airways close up. He stands there with his dick in my throat, perfectly still as the seconds tick by. “When you need to breath, just tap me,” he says.

I give his left cheek two quick taps. He obliges, pulling out, and I suck in a swimmer’s breath.

This time, when he plunges forward, I feel his fingers lightly touching my throat. I imagine him there, grinning, fascinated by the distended outline of his own dick through my skin.

That’s when he starts to fuck. Ever so slightly, he nudges his cock back and forth a little. I concentrate on not vomiting.  All I can do is stare through his inner thighs at the textured wallpaper behind him.

Just when I reach all I can take, he pulls out, and settles onto the middle of my bed, flat on his back, melting into the lucious pillows. “These are so comfy. Are you crying yet?” he asks, smiling.

“No I’m fine,” I tell him, quickly wiping the tears off my cheek.

I quickly get between his legs on my belly and engulf his penis between my lips. He lets out a slow, relaxed sigh. “Good boy,” he says. When I keep sucking, he stops me, grabs my chin and makes me look at him. “When I say ‘Good boy’, you then say ‘Thank-you sir.’ Do you understand?”
“Thank-you sir,” I tell him.

“You learn fast. That’s good.” He put his arms behind his head. “Now go get me a glass of water. I’m parched.”

I look around the room, for which I paid $209, and quickly find the glass. I tear off the plastic wrap and fill it with tap water in the bathroom sink.

I hear him call after me. “And hand me the remote. I’m going to watch some TV while you suck my dick. Would you like that?” He answers himself. “Yeah. I know you would, cocksucker.”

He’s cocky for sure. It excites me. I thought he’d be gone in 10 minutes, and I’d be able to catch some much needed sleep. But now I’m awake, excited by our time together. I grab the remote on the way back and offer it him. “Here you are, kind sir.” I only hope he doesn’t order costly porn.

I lay perpendicular to him now, my head on his belly, so I can see the TV a little and work his cock with my mouth at the same time. He ignores me, flipping channels.

The TV blasts out, “Scandal rocks Hollywood today– brewing in the middle east– For 30% of the company.” He settles on a rerun of Shark Tank. Nice, we have similar tastes.

We watch as the sharks eviscerate the business prospects of two women. As they argue, he starts to instruct me. “Put your tongue around the head,” he says. “Try it without your lips…. Lick the bottom of the foreskin.” He gives specific instructions of what he wants. “Good boy.”

Slurp. “Thank-you sir.”

He looks at me, eyes narrowing. “Now I want you to suck on my toes for a while,” he says.

What?

“Yeah,” he says, wiggling them at me. “Get down there and suck. And give me a foot rub.” He  stares at me, or the TV, while I kneel on the floor in front of the bed. I cringe, thinking of foot fungus, but a moment later, I lock my eyes on his face, and suck on his big toe. It turns out that sucking appendages is a transferable skill, and I quickly get into it. I stare at his cock, projecting my intense hunger, as I do it.

“Do the other piggies too. They’re lonely,” he tells me, giving them a wiggle.

I do so, but after giving them equal time, I lunge forward onto my belly. I lick his perineum, then move down, pushing his legs up. “Oh yeah,” he says. He grabs a pillow, stuffs it under his lower back, and rolls his ass hole up to me once again. “Good boy. Lick my ass.”

“Thank-you sir.” I say, and I begin. He’s slick with my saliva, and I start to give it wet kisses, and soon I’m making out with his ass, sucking and flicking my tougue at it. A few minutes later, he gives out a low, guttural moan.

“Come here and look what you did,” he says. I get up on my arms and we stare at his cock. A spurt of precum has emerged. “Better not waste it,” he admonishes. I bend over him and lap it up.

I get beside him again, and rest my head on his belly button, and slowly suck on his slippery red cock head. On the flatscreen, the next set of entrepreneurs are almost done their pitch and I lose myself in the show for a while. I feel him slowly stroking my scalp.

During the commercials, he occasionally starts to thrust, holding my head in place. It is then that I see the advantage of his uniquely curved dick. From the side, it slides in perfectly and he;s able to fuck my throat with ease. He does this for only a few seconds, whenever the need arises, and then rests, leaving the work up to me.

He gives more instructions. “Use your hand to bring the foreskin up, get your tongue in between the skin and the head. Yeah, good boy,” he says.

“Thank you sir”

“Use your left hand to massage my balls. Oh yes,” he says, and lets out another low gutteral purr. “I can feel my cum building up. In a little while I’m going to cum down your throat. And in your mouth so you get to taste it all. You will love my sweet cum,” he says. My hands are doing the work most of the  now, stroking, so I steal quick glances up at him. He’s not even watching the TV any more. He is in heaven, raw exctasy in his half closed eyes.

Suddenly he grabs my head, wrenching it away and off of him. He lets out a slow ragged breath. I stare into his eyes, and stretch my tongue out eagerly at his throbbing cock head. After a moment, I slowly start again, sticking my tongue in the slit, savouring the delicous salty flavour of his essense.

His control is impressive, and he starts to channel flip again while I suck. “How does your mouth feel?” He asks

“It’s very happy,” I tell him. The thought of it ending now is unbearable. I want to lay here, my head on his belly, sucking his dick, as long as I can, with him softly stroking my head and flipping through shows on my TV. And that’s what we do. I lose all  track of time as I suck him, and stroke him. I’m interrupted only with the exciting moments when he grabs my head and mouth fucks me before relaxing again.

His low, purrs are getting more frequent now, and his demands that I slow down are getting weaker. “I’m so close, I can feel it,” he tells me. He strokes my scalp, sending shivers through my body. “You’ve definitely earned your reward. You should be proud. This is the longest blowjob I’ve ever had.”

More moans. His body is on fire now. “Let go of my balls, so I can get it in your throat when it’s time,” he says.He’s thrusting, doing the work now, and his moans get louder. “Get ready,” he says, and before the words are out, he explodes onto my tongue. He screams out, and I feel like the entire floor will hear him. He never stops thrusting, and one joyful hour’s worth of cum ends up down my throat and all throughout my mouth, like delicious salty caramel coating.

When he is done, he can’t ,or won’t move from his spot in the centre of my bed, so I lay on my side and slowly caress his chest and abdomen, over and over. We spend many minutes like this.  I’m addicted to the feeling of the hard muscles with barely any covering.

“Are you going to write about that?” he asks, eyes hopeful. “I tried to make new and different for you.”

I grin, as I realize who was the real master today. “Absolutely.”

There and Back Again, In Toronto

So I’m walking around Toronto doing some shopping today. Shopping for cock. I park at the Hyatt Regency and sit in the Starbucks, turn on my favourite app.

Wow. Within about 30 seconds I get five messages. None look appealing though. I’m spoiled living in University town with its abundant youth. I put the phone away and stroll to the eaton’s center for some new shirts. I pick up a couple Raw-Edge V-Neck Tees (2/$39, Guess).

But the exciting part comes a little farther… Spa Excess and Steamworks, the two most well known bathhouses are here. I walk past the thick door of spa excess. Two guys are within 20m of me, they must be inside. I’m too chicken to go in. Same with Steamworks. Instead, I eat at Subway, staring out into Church street, and Grindr.

“How dangerous is Steamworks?” I ask.

“All these dirty places!” someone replies, and blocks me.

A grey-bearded guy is more helpful. “All I’m saying is that some guys don’t disclose their status,” he says, and invites me up to his apartment down the street where I can blow him. I decline, saying I’ve gotta eat lunch first.

I’d be disappointed if I left TO without going in. I resolve to do it with a compromise: I just won’t touch anybody. I slink back to Spa Excess and wrench open the doors, expecting to see an orgy. Instead there’s some stairs going up. I carefully ascend them, silently, ducking back so the cashier or whatever wouldn’t notice me if I turned around and fled.

There’s a window in the wall beside the door. “What do I have to do?” I squeak at the cashier. I pay $6 and leave my grad student card with him, and he lets me in. Staring at the floor, I stride to the stairwell and go down, then up, looking for the locker room. It was a quite a locker room, a beautiful site to behold with coloured light emanating from somewhere in the darkness. I change quickly and slam the door shut, hanging my key on my wrist.

Down a flight is the jacuzzi tub. Well, I have to go in. I’m here. So I shower, staring straight at the wall and sit down with two other old guys. I watch some vintage porn on the flat screen for a while, until I’m relaxed, then I get up to explore some more.

It’s easy to not touch anyone here. At 1pm on Saturday there’s only like 10 guys here. I find the maze and wander around it, moving quickly past anyone as they reach for me. The maze snakes around a bathroom, and includes a viewing couch looking straight through one-way glass toward a trough urinal. That would be hot, if anyone was there. I’m a fan of watersports.

I decide to end my trip at the bar. I grab a $9 long island iced tea, and sit on the couch near the TV. It’s playing classic movies. Behind me a toweled asian guy sits at a table using his laptop. I read on my phone, sipping the alcohol, and I feel totally relaxed. This is not a bad place to visit.

Later on I make my way through Toronto back to my parking space. On Grindr, the streets are an ever changing sea. There are so many choices. But no bites. I make it all the way back to the hotel and sit in the lobby. It’s too early to go home.

I see a guy on Grindr. We exchange pics.

He’s asian, he looks OK and will let me blow him. He can host right now in his hotel room at the Marriot around the block. “10 mins” I tell him.

When I get to his door my heart is pounding. WTF am I doing. I should turn back. Instead I rap on his door.

He’s in his underwear already, watching TV. We introduce ourselves and he offers me some water. “You’re so formal,” he says, smiling incredulously.

“Do you do this often?” I ask. Not too often, he says. I tell him he’s my #5. “Five today?” I shook my head. “Five in your life?!” Yup. So tell me if I’m doing something wrong.

We go to the bedroom and strip, laying on the bed. Cuddling’s still weird for me, I tell him, and reach for his crotch. He obliges, discarding his black briefs. A beautiful, cut cock, a drop of precum already at its tip. I lick it up and make him sit on the edge of the bed. His penis fits comfortably in my mouth. I’m relaxed, and go for a while. He can’t believe how into it I am. I’m like a starving man on sausage. Eventually he ends up standing against the wall, thrusting into my face when I feel several squirts of salty cum land on my tongue. I show it to him before swallowing it down.

“You’re very good at this,” he tells me, stroking my hair. He’s never cum from just a blowjob before.

Later he messages. If I’m ever in TO again, let him know. Yay, a job well done.