web log analysis Confessions of a Promiscuous Top: Darkness and Lights

Monday, February 18, 2013

Darkness and Lights

Today I got off in the mouth of a guy who hit me up on Scruff looking rather serious and semisexy, but who in real life turned out to be a rather perky fella who you could easily imagine singing in a glee club. I am back home in my southern home town again, dealing with some pretty heavy family issues, and had a rather grueling dinner with a wayward nephew who needed some straightening out. It was a draining, emotional day, and part of me just wanted to collapse in bed. The other part-- located between my legs-- decided I deserved to be treated to some royal oral service for my efforts down here. Hooking up here is typically insane-- these guys are all closeted, chicken, deluded, and full of shit, and mostly unattractive at that-- but since I am very busy this visit and have little time to hook up, of course I'm getting offers right and left. This guy has been the closest and most enthusiastic about getting the cum out of me-- I find that guys who talk about sex entertainingly can also do it entertainingly, and he was a veritable thesaurus of terms for semen, alternately begging for my cum, seed, juice, spooge, sperm, and jizz throughout my visit here so far. So I figured tonight was his lucky night. He gave me directions to his "other" house, whatever that meant, and I drove out there-- past the subdivision where I grew up, past the big aging mall for the white trash, down some dark roads to a new development full of aughts-style overbuilt houses, and down to the very end of the last street, butting up against some woods, with brilliant stars, planets, and moon hanging overhead. I hoped for the best and knocked on the door.

He opened the door and looked, as I said, like a choirboy. The townhouse behind him was completely empty inside. As I tinkled in the hall bathroom, he explained that he had just bought another house and was going to rent this one out. I cleaned up a little, zipped up, and surveyed the echoing space. "So you're going to suck my dick on the floor?" I asked, looking doubtfully at the carpet. He laughed. "Well, upstairs! Let's go!" And he skipped up the stairs. I followed; the ass was eh, but I didn't intend to do any reciprocating tonight. I was going to lay back and get hoovered clean.

He led me to what had been the master bedroom, which had no overhead bulb, so all we had was the light filtering in from the hallway. Two throw pillows were propped against the wall, making up the whole of the creature comforts I was to enjoy why providing him with hard meat and gooey ejaculate. I shrugged and we made out some standing in the middle of the room, and I remembered he seemed to want me to be verbal, so I cooed dirty words into his ear about how I was going to unload a week's worth of salty fuckjuice down his throat and he wasn't going to waste a drop of it. He reached in my zipper and stroked my meat up and down, shivering at my words and the hairy thickness and saying yes yes yes yes yes I want to drink you. He fumbled at my fly so I unbuttoned for him and let him fondle me better. For whatever reason his touch was making me hard in record time. I pushed him to his knees and he slurped me into him in one long motion that made my dick instantly fill to capacity with hot blood. It was amazing. He wasn't a hot guy but fuck he could suck a dick.

"OK I am going to have to lay back and enjoy this," I said, pulling my clothes off unceremoniously and laying back on the pillows wearing nothing but white socks and a huge throbbing erection. He hooked his hands up under my thighs, laid flat on the floor with his legs open slightly, fully dressed, and sucked the living fuck out of my goddamn fucking dick.

There was very little kissing or stroking, and no humping or ass-eating. It was all about my dick. He fed on my groin with glee while I said whatever popped into my head and moaned. He kept looking up at me from his vantage down there, but it was really too dark to see his face very well, and I didn't care; all the light was in my head and in my dick, so I just closed my eyes and let it wash over me. He got me to the edge with expert precision and kept me there till I wanted to ram him with my tool to bring the pleasure past the brink.

But I didn't. It is a typical manly desire to force yourself to the brink of orgasm; to clench your muscles to engorge your tool, flare the head, make the nerves overload with sensation and bring yourself over the edge. But the best orgasm is the one you can't control at all. As I felt myself grow warm, melting, and urgent, I completely relaxed the muscles in my dick and let him work his magic. I wanted to come so bad, I wanted to clench and shoot, but I didn't, I let everything go lax, and felt an even deeper urge, somewhere much further down my spine, take over my body at his coaxing. I could feel every stage of my penis's preparation for insemination distinctly as he lapped me to fuzzy oblivion: I could feel some involuntary muscle closing around the root of my penis, making it lengthen and harden so I could deposit my semen as deeply inside him as possible. I felt my ducts swell and open, lubricated with the clear fluid that paves the way for the thundering white sperm. I felt a hot spray of hormones fill my blood and make me sweat. I felt my nuts rise up into my body. And then I felt, somewhere inside, that first jet make its way through the long length of tubing inside my trunk and force its way through my dickhole and then squirt, hard, into his body through his throat. And he sucked me expertly with every squirt. We were a well-oiled machine together, with spasms and licks perfectly timed to get my cum into him as completely as possible, with as little friction as possible.

He sucked my dick slowly up and down as I came down from this awesome climax, and it was so good he made me have a small second one, getting two bonus squirts of my manhood. He clearly loved my dick. And I felt great.

Finally he rolled aside and asked how I liked it. I joked that it was OK. But then I told him that he seriously knew what he was doing; that everyone claims they give good head but that doesn't mean anything. He definitely gave good head.

He showed me the rest of the townhouse and we talked about the housing market here a bit, then he led me out through the garage and we left in our separate cars.

I drove along, admiring the sky, and wishing there wasn't so much light pollution. Despite getting my pipes cleaned and my head cleared, I was still very preoccupied about my nephew. I drove along the highway, further into the country away from my sister's house, but the sprawl of this place is absolutely endless; there was crap everywhere you looked even though after 20 miles I was definitely in the middle of nowhere. I followed some signs to some parks, hoping for some deep darkness to admire the small lights of the stars and the quarter moon. At one point I almost hit a deer, coming within a foot of the idiotic thing and engaging the ABS system on my rental, which ground away under the brake pedal like the car was disintegrating. The deer trotted into the woods. And I pulled over, turned out the headlights, got out, leaned against the bumper, and looked up at the sky. There were no cars but it still wasn't perfectly dark-- I was in the midst of a bunch of farms and horsey estates, each of which had a single, obnoxious street light on a pole out front. But the sky was beautifully clear and the pinpoints of light were dazzling; the small moon, almost blinding. I looked up for a few minutes, and finally felt the calm I sought descending over me. And I got back in the car and came home to write this.

Now bed.


  1. Sorry to hear about the family trouble. Interestingly, I am dealing with a nephew with an addiction problem and you are right. It is emotionally exhausting and just sad. Fucking so nice to get a good double shooting from a talented mouth. He must have been humping the floor like a rabbit. You must have been emotionally wound up to need the physical and skyline to level out - good for you for getting both. Great post.

    1. Thanks man. It's really tough and in the end there is so little you can really do sometimes. I can't imagine how depressed I would have been if the cocksucker hadn't been as good as he was. Thank heaven for small mercies! He definitely got a lot of cum out of me... it had been almost a week and I've been seriously prickteased in the meantime by a parade of idiots.

    2. I agree. With my nephew, he was on a sports scholarship at college and wa prescribed oxycotin for a hurt foot and got hooked. compeltely fucked up his life. And all of my tlaking to him has amounted to very little. I liek the fact that he was surprised you with his talents. those are often the most erotic encounters arent they? Really well written post.

    3. I love being pleasantly surprised by sex... when I realize it's going to be good, the excitement and anticipation wash over me and I'm so into it nothing else enters my mind. If only it could always be like that!

  2. That was a beautiful post. And it happens far too little with me, but I know exactly what you mean about sitting back and letting the orgasm come.

    1. Aw shucks, thanks. I love guys who take direction well, because most guys, when they taste the swell of precum and feel my dickhead grow in their mouths, want to work harder and harder to make me cum. I always tell the best ones to slow it down, don't try too hard, they can make me cum easily, just let me enjoy it, just suck me nice and slow and let it happen, and the good ones, like this guy, do exactly what I say, and I fire like a bazooka down their gullets when it finally happens.