Mindless

I just shot about a pint of milk and, I'm pretty sure, half my brain's grey matter out through my tubesteak and into the patient, spectacularly skilled gullet of Tireless Cocksucking Boy. I can barely function because the relentless, insane pleasure has fried my mental circuits and left me pretty much wanting to just stare at the wall while the scorched neurons slowly grow back. But I'll try to make a coherent entry to commemorate the occasion.

This is a 25 year old kid who comes over every couple of months and gives me extremely fine, if strangely impersonal, head. He's pretty cute, not built particularly well though he has very wide shoulders and firm arms, both of which I like to grab onto while someone is feasting on my groin and driving me out of my fucking mind. The first time we hooked up he wouldn't kiss, wouldn't talk, and barely looked at me, but made me cum twice in a row, which is no mean feat for an old man like me who never even did that much when I was a teenager. The second time I thought maybe I'd worn through whatever defenses he had, and we made out a lot, I humped him a lot, and, at least during the festivities, there was a lot of intensity. (His cell number is from Salt Lake City; I wonder if he's a practicing Mormon with a secret?) So when he hit me up today, Friday, a/k/a No One Will Fuck You Day, I told him it was his lucky day. He comes a long way to get to me but always leaves right away once I tell him I want him, and I had an unusual amount of time free after work, so I was looking forward to it.

But he showed up with the same demeanor and attitude as the first time. This was a bit of a drag! Just would not kiss, kept his mouth perfectly still and his lips motionless as I ineptly tried to work my usual bottom-igniting magic. Nada! So I pulled down the thick jersey gym shorts I'm wearing and whipped out what he came for and he got to work.

Where this guy learned these skills I have no idea, but they seriously need to give him an honorary PhD. I wish everyone could suck dick like him. Within 10 minutes I was already wanting to cum, but he takes direction very, very well, so he knew exactly how much to back off without making me come down too much, and how much to still give me without popping my nuts. After 20 minutes I was well into zombie territory, and had found a position with one leg flat on the bed, one bent up beside me, allowing me to rest one hand on it, with the other on the back of his head, putting my prong at a beautifully perpendicular angle to my body, aimed right into his face, and it slowly rocked up and down and back and forth in my crotch as he worked it with mouth only. The light in the room was dim but a circle of light from the bedside table lamp illuminated my meaty shaft perfectly, lit the hair around it on fire with brightness, and showed the slick coating of saliva that was making my dick glide, glide, glide in and out of this kid.

And we humped and I fucked his face from the side with my big hairy thigh draped suffocatingly over his face and he opened up again and we kissed, languidly with lips just resting together, a little tongue; he was still remaining very still, eyes closed, but would rest his hands on my back and stroke the hair and hitch his legs around mine when I got on top of him, or reach down to cradle my dick as I pushed my body into his. I found a way to tug and flick his nipple that gave absolutely no reaction in his face, skin, body, or breathing, but every time I did it I felt his boner surge against my body, so I knew it was having some effect. A queer little bird, this kid is.

And mostly, just sucking. Endless pleasure that was driving me out of my motherfucking mind. I was close to coming several times and only through great willpower managed to pull myself away from him completely to keep my shit. But after 90 minutes language and coherent thought and willpower left me and my dick did its thing, without my help or permission. I was lying beside him, watching him stroke his rather thin dick in double-time to his sucking rhythm, watching his breathing make his belly rise and fall, and out came the spooge. He gobbled at it greedily and then, as my climax was subsiding, he insistently tongued the cumhole of my dick.

Well!

I think that's pretty much where the real cerebral damage was done. Sometimes I pull out and jerk myself at the end of an orgasm, just because almost anything else someone else does makes me so oversensitive I can't even control my body from jolting this way and that; it's almost painful. I let this kid do what he wanted, though-- he earned it. He probed and probed at the very end of my manly member and made my vision go grey and had my skull oozing out of my ears. It was like being struck by lightning over and over after running a marathon. While he did this, he ejaculated all over himself. And then my meat slowly flowed its way out of his mouth.

I flopped back on the bed, holding his shoulders beside me with both hands, and making primitive noises of helplessness and satiety. The room was so quiet the air screamed. And I felt like I might fall asleep. Finally he said "Can I get a towel?" and I imagined his cum getting cold and runny on him, so I hopped up, decided the laundry room was too far away for someone who's sense of direction was extracted from his goddamn brain along with all his other higher faculties via an exploding urethra. So I bent over and tossed him the t-shirt that was on the floor about two steps from the bed, and flopped back down.

He cleaned up and lay back beside me. And after a little more quiet, he said, "That was fun!"

I expressed amazement that he didn't get tired, but he didn't say anything, just laughed. I asked if he had anything going on this weekend and he said just the Super Bowl, and that put an end to that line of conversation. I guess he's just a dudely dude and he sucks dick, or whatever. I got him a glass of water, and he got dressed, drank it, thanked me for inviting him over, and trotted away with a belly full of my cum and my motherfucking intellect.

Somehow I have to get out of here, go to the grocery store, figure out what to cook and buy, then come home and somehow make it without chopping my freakin fingers off one by one. I'd rather sleep till Wednesday. I officially never need to have sex again. I'm done. I feel like I've ejaculated enough for twelve men and 100 years. Goodbye and farewell.

Until I get horny again.