Married cocksucker has crazy submissive night including anal
Once you have crossed the imaginary line between straight and gay, once you drop to your knees and fish out a stiff rod from a stranger’s pants, once you have had a cock in your mouth, once you’ve swallowed a load of cum…there is no going back.
Although relatively happily married, to a relatively good woman, I always crave cock.
At first I would feel guilty after I served a stranger, his aftertaste lingering in my mouth long after the deed was done, yet the reality is I no longer believe I am cheating on my wife. I am not getting oral sex, I am not fucking another man or woman, I’m not eating another woman’s pussy, I’m simply sucking cock…something I can’t do to my wife.
Instead it’s simply a secret I don’t share with my wife.
So every time I’m away on business, which is often, I’m craving cock.
I had only sucked a few cocks over a few months when I could no longer deny that I loved being a cocksucker.
I was at a downtown hotel, in a city far from home, without a car, when I put an ad up on Craigslist:
Looking to come to you, drop to my knees and drain your cock.
I love to swallow.
Age and race doesn’t matter…just have a big load of cum for me.
After an hour without a response, which was a long time, I was getting disappointed when I finally got one.
I’m eighteen and looking for a faggot to face fuck.
I have a seven inch cock that is made to worship.
I expect a response in five minutes.
P.S: Here is a picture for you to drool over.
I clicked on the attached photo and my mouth instantly watered. It was thin and long and looked completely appetizing.
I read the response a dozen times. The name calling, the blunt expectations, his age and his cock had my own cock busting in my trousers.
I wasn’t used to such responses, the arrangements usually an agreement between a guy wanting to shoot a load and a guy wanting to swallow one.
That was what I loved about cocksucking. There was no romance, no mind games, no real names exchanged, just sex. Men saw sex as getting off, nothing more, nothing less and that usually made it incredibly easy to find someone.
You have a gorgeous cock.
I’d love to meet up and be your cocksucker.
Can you host?
After I sent it, a rush of excitement coursed through me, like it usually did when I felt that a meeting was possible. I hadn’t sucked cock in a couple of months and was definitely going through withdrawal.
His response came an excruciatingly slow ten minutes later.
I knew you would love my cock. All you married cocksuckers do. My chemistry teacher devoured it just yesterday after school in his classroom.
I can’t host since my parents are home…but I can meet at a gas station with a great corner stall or I can come to you.
But hurry up, I got a party to go to and would like to shoot a load in some married faggot first.
I again read and reread his response. He was still in high school, he still lived with his parents, there were so many red flags that I should have quit then and there. Yet, logic wasn’t running my mind at the moment, lust was.
I don’t know the city well. Do you know a safe spot downtown?
A couple minutes later, he responded:
Are you at a hotel?
Shit, I sighed. In all my encounters I always went to them, always worried about my true identity somehow being compromised. Yet, with no other opportunities popping up yet, I was incredibly desperate to have a cock in my mouth…feeling like a crack whore waiting for her next fix.
I wasn’t sure I would actually give him my hotel room number but by answering I had definitely opened the door.
A couple of minutes later, I got another response.
Hotel and room number now!
I stared at the order. I had never hosted, never even considered hosting. Yet, I was craving cock and somehow his dominant persona was turning me on.
Before I could consider the consequences of such a decision, I texted him the hotel and room number.
As soon as I sent it, I regretted it. I had lost control of the situation.
A minute later, I received a response:
I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. I expect the door slightly ajar and you on your knees.
I was both excited and petrified. I was dying for a cock in my mouth, and yet I was very nervous of my real identity being revealed.
After a quick washroom break, I brushed my teeth, turned off all the lights, opened the door, left the latch open and sat on my knees in a small hallway of my corner suite.
Every minute, I looked at the clock. My mouth watering with anticipation, my mind spinning with trepidation.
Twice I heard the elevator doors open and no one came, but the third time my door opened.
Immediately, he flipped a light switch on and said, “True cocksuckers are not ashamed.”
I looked up at him, he looked exactly as I imagined, good looking, young and built. Yet, although I loved sucking cock, I never wanted to see their face. That somehow made it gayer in my head.
“Still in a suit and tie,” he smirked, as he walked over to me.
I didn’t say a word as I eagerly went to fish his cock out of his jeans.
“So I know you’re married, do you also have kids?” He asked, as he looked down and watched me pull out his flaccid cock.
“Two,” I admitted, as I leaned forward and took his cock in my mouth, not wanting any more uncomfortable small talk.
I also loved the sensation of feeling a cock grow in my mouth. Knowing it was my mouth that was getting him hard, making it grow.
“That’s it cocksucker,” he groaned, “make it big and hard.”
I did exactly that as I slowly swirled my tongue around his mushroom top and bobbed back and forth.
I was uncomfortable knowing he could clearly see me at first, but as soon as his cock was in my mouth my moral integrity disappeared and I indeed became just a cocksucker.
Once it was completely erect in my mouth, I began bobbing.
He groaned, “That’s it cocksucker, worship my cock.”
And I was. I wanted to take all seven inches in my mouth. Having been a couple of months since I last sucked a cock, it took a while to get back in the rhythm. But like riding a bike, it came back rather naturally.
In my few experiences, I had learned that every guy came differently. Some rocketed their cum into your mouth, while others just had it ooze out of their slit. I also learned some guys come very quickly, under two minutes, while my longest took fifteen. But on average, it took about five minutes from the time I took a cock in my mouth until I was swallowing a stranger’s delicious seed.
And most guys don’t talk much if at all. Sometimes a ‘that feels good’ or ‘it’s been a while’ or a courtesy warning, but nothing compared to what this guy did.
“You like my cock, cocksucker?” He asked, pulling his big dick out of my mouth.
My mouth felt empty. I stammered, wanting it back in my mouth, “‘Y-y-yes.”
He tapped his cock on my lips and I opened, expecting him to put it back in my mouth. Instead he scolded me. “Yes, what, cocksucker, convince me you deserve the privilege of my cock.”
His words were ridiculous. But at the moment, I definitely wanted the privilege of sucking his cock. I begged, “Please let this married cocksucker serve you.”
“That’s better, but look at me when you answer. A real cocksucker has no shame. He knows his real purpose is to be a cum deposit,” the eighteen-year-old continued, clearly enjoying the power he had over a man more than twice his age.
I didn’t want to look at him, I didn’t like putting a face to a cock (no guy no matter how good looking ever turned me on, yet a cock did). Yet, a need to obey, to have his cock back in my mouth, controlled my very being. I answered, looking up from my submissive position on my knees, “Please, sir, can this married cocksucker be your personal cum bucket?”
Just saying the words had my stiff cock screaming for attention, somehow being treated like a cock slut enhanced the entire experience.
“That’s better,” he nodded approvingly, smiling down at me. “Now slither that tongue down my shaft and suck on my balls.”
I had once sucked on another man’s balls, but his hair made the act rather unappealing. This time though, the kid was completely shaven like you see in the porn movies, even his bag was completely hair free.
I obeyed, my tongue lazily slithering down his long shaft until I reached his ball sack. I licked his sack briefly before using my lips to find one of his balls and taking it in my mouth. The act was strange and different and although not as satisfying as having his cock in my mouth, the submissive act did turn me on.
He groaned, “That’s it, my little cocksucking slut, a good boy knows how to worship the whole package.”
“Yes, sir,” I replied, showing him my utter submissiveness, as I found the other ball and replicated the attention.
“Are you this big a bitch at home?” He asked.
As I began moving my tongue back up his hard shaft I answered, “Actually, my wife is submissive to me.”
“Really?” He chuckled. “What would she say if she saw you know?”
I didn’t like small talk, even if to humiliate me. When I was on my cock hunt, I forgot about my wife and focused on finding and serving a cock. But having her mentioned as I pleasured him brought a twinge of guilt. Yet, I answered, “She’d be mortified.”
I reached the tip of his mushroom top and saw a bit of pre-cum and licked it as he continued, “I’m assuming she doesn’t know that her loving husband is wearing his band of eternal faithfulness as he sucks a stranger’s cock.”
“No, she doesn’t,” I admitted, as I took his cock back in my mouth.
“Or that her husband is a complete faggot,” he continued.
I hated the term ‘faggot’. Somehow being called a cocksucker turned me on and was literally true, yet the term ‘faggot’ was in my mind way more derogatory…as absurd as that may sound.
I wasn’t gay.
I didn’t find men sexy or hot.
I didn’t want to have my cock sucked by a guy nor did I have any interest at all in fucking a guy.
I also had no interest in being ass fucked, though I had experimented with a few anal toys on myself. To my surprise, with enough lube and patience, the toys didn’t hurt, although I had bought relatively small toys.
I just want to suck cock.
I just want to swallow cum.
I just want to be a cocksucker.
He seemed to notice my facial expression at being called a faggot. He asked, “What? Does my cocksucker not like the term ‘faggot’.”
I took his delicious cock out of my mouth and admitted, “No, sir.”
“Why?” He asked, as he traced my lips with the tip of his cock.
“I’m not gay,” I answered.
“You’re on your knees eagerly serving a complete stranger,” he pointed out. “I think that is pretty gay.”
I wanted to point out he was getting sucked by a guy which made him gay based on his theory, but it didn’t seem like a point worth making. My goal at the moment was to extract his sweet seed from his big ball sack. Instead I explained, “I’m a cocksucker yes, but that’s it.”
“If you say so,” he shrugged, although his tone implied he didn’t remotely buy my explanation, as he slid his cock back in my mouth.
Hoping the talking was done, I finally shifted to hungry cocksucker mode, which was fast back and forth bobbing, eventually attempting to take all his cock in my mouth.
Although strange, and in retrospect kind of gay I suppose, I liked the rare feeling of deep throating a cock and feeling his balls hitting my chin.
“I’m pretty sure you’re a faggot,” he said, after a couple of minutes of hungry cocksucking.
I ignored his words, focusing entirely on the yummy load I was confident was soon going to spray down my throat.
Yet, suddenly he pulled out and ordered, “Go lay on the bed on your back with your head leaning over the edge of the bed.”
“Really?” I asked.
“Now, cocksucker,” he demanded, snapping his fingers and pointing to the bed.
Still dying to get him off, and seeing no other solution, I stood up, walked the few feet to the bed, got on it, laid on my back and shuffled myself so my head was leaning over the edge as I looked at him upside down.
He walked to me and shoved his cock in my mouth. On my knees, I was relatively in control of the blow job, but in this position, I was simply a mouth for him to fuck and fuck it he did.
Slobbering sounds echoed in the small room, as he face fucked me. Surprisingly it was incredibly sexually stimulating to be just used for his personal pleasure. All seven inches slammed into my mouth, as his ball sack slapped my nose.
He grunted, “Pull out your cock, old man.”
At 42, I hardly considered myself old, but compared to his eighteen years, I suppose I was.
Also, although I always ended up jerking off as I reminisced about the cock I had just sucked once I was again alone, I had never pulled my cock out in front of another man.
Yet, like everything else in this strange evening, I obeyed the cocky eighteen year old high school student.
I awkwardly fished my completely erect five inch cock out of my pants.
“I figured it would be hard,” he said, “real faggots get hard serving other men.”
Mindlessly, I began stroking my cock, so incredibly, undeniably turned on by being treated like a bitch.
“No playing with yourself, faggot,” he scolded. “Just let your tiny pecker salute me as I fuck your faggot face.”
I reluctantly obeyed, desperate to come now that my cock was out.
“Ready for my cum?” He finally asked a minute later, this crazy surreal sexual submission coming to an end.
Strangely, I had mixed feelings. Indeed I was eager to feel his cum slide down my throat, finally getting the drug I craved. Yet, I felt a rush of disappointment at the thought that this wild cocksucking experience was almost ever. Without a doubt, it had been the most sexual charged, exciting cocksucking experience I had ever had.
I moaned on his cock, the hard fast face-fucking not allowing me the opportunity to actually use words to answer.
He continued slamming his cock in my mouth like it was a pussy for a couple more minutes, the blood rushing to my head before he suddenly grunted, pulled out and shot a stream of cum directly in-between my eyes.
I was doubly shocked. First, I had never been given a facial. Second, I was shocked at how hot the cum was as it splattered on my face.
A second rope of cum hit my forehead before he moved his cock above me, and I stared at his balls, as a never ending dripping of cum seemed to drop onto me like a leaking faucet. My cheeks, above my lips, a bit in my mouth and my chin all hot white sticky evidence of his orgasm as I became his cum canvas.
Each drop was like a brief burn of shame as the hot cum coated me. It didn’t actually burn, but it was indeed hot, something I had never considered before.
It wasn’t hot when it sprayed in my mouth and my own cum on my hands, belly or legs never felt hot, yet there was no other way to describe it.
As I pondered this, he slid his cock back in my mouth and ordered, “Retrieve any last remnants, cocksucker.”
I swirled my tongue, searching like an archeologist hunting for lost treasure.
When he finally pulled out, he instructed, as he pulled his pants back up, “You will wear my special gift on your face all night.”
“P-p-pardon?” I stammered, again surprised by his words.
“I gave you a gift and you will wear it with pride all night,” he repeated.
Sitting up, my face burning with sudden shame, I replied, “But I need to go out and have dinner yet.”
“You may want to order in,” he shrugged.
I didn’t have any intention of obeying him, so I nodded, “Okay.”
“Good faggot,” he nodded. “Now order your food.”
“Now?” I asked, again mortified, as my still erect cock aimed at him.
“Yes,” he nodded, as he handed me the room service menu.
Feeling like a child obeying his father, I skimmed the menu, picked up the phone and ordered a steak.
“Do you want to suck my cock again?” He asked, while he was on his phone texting.
As soon as the offer was given, my mouth began watering, Pavlov’s theory clearly at work. I admitted, “Yes.”
“I may be back later tonight,” he said. “I expect you to stay awake and be ready to serve me until 2am.”
“But I have a meeting at nine,” I pointed out.
“Do you want my cock again?” He asked, his tone implying he was annoyed.
I wish I could have said no, I wished I could have been strong-willed, yet I answered as I assume he expected, “Yes.”
“Good,” he nodded, going to the door. “I’ll email you if I’m coming and I promise my next load I will shoot inside you.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at the pun.
“And like I said, cocksucker, don’t you dare wash my special gift off your face.”
“Yes, sir,” I nodded, knowing I was going to obey and wear this coat of shame just for the hopeful opportunity to suck him again.
“And you should probably put that tiny pecker away too,” he said. “Of course, it should go without saying but I’ll say it anyway, you are not to touch yourself either.”
“Of course, sir,” I nodded, knowing if I did shoot my load, I would instantly no longer be horny and thus no longer submissive…yet this feeling of submission felt so good, so natural…I didn’t want it to end.
“Later faggot,” he said, before adding one last shot, “you should probably call your wife and kids.”
Once he was gone, I did put my cock away and went to the washroom to see what my face looked like.
Staring in the mirror I was aghast. Is that how much cum I usually swallowed? White gobs were everywhere: my hair, forehead, between my eyes, cheeks and a hanging gob rested on my chin. I looked like a complete whore.
I’m not going to lie, being used like a slut, the evidence literally written all over my face, turned me on. I wanted to jerk off, yet felt compelled to obey the teenager who I just realized I couldn’t name.
As I stared at my cum coated face, I wondered how I was ever going to answer the door when room service showed up.
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