web log analysis Confessions of a Promiscuous Top: Now THAT'S Service

Wednesday, August 20, 2014

Now THAT'S Service

I just got my pipes thoroughly-- THOROUGHLY-- cleaned out by a handsome bearish dude that did the honors for me maybe four years ago, when I first moved to this neighborhood. Honestly all I remembered about him was that (1) he was heavier than his pictures made him look, and not as sexy, (2) he really really had serious manstink, which is not my favorite, and (3) he was really nice to talk to afterwards. His pictures made him look *really* sexy, and hip in that hipstery way guys were hip four years ago but kinda aren't so much any more, so this all kind of added up to disappointment, really. I honestly didn't remember if the head was very good, though I guess I had a vague feeling that it had been? His place was rather squalid, on the unfashionable side of the hood, and I remember thinking for the first fifteen minutes of nothing but the possibility of bedbugs. And it seems like maybe soon after that, he stopped being on Manhunt (where he had been as much a fixture as me, I guess) and I forgot about him, except occasionally when something new would happen with the endlessly under construction building next door, which he had told me his artist friends had lived in and were being kicked out of, and which he seemed annoyed about, and which I felt vaguely guilty for, being the type of yuppie asshole who was buying the buildings around here that resulted in artists getting kicked out of things. Suddenly the other day he reappeared on Manhunt and silently viewed my profile. He had new pictures on there, including some shirt-free body shots, which he had skillfully avoided years ago. He looked pretty nice, and I thought, well, maybe I should give him another whirl. His profile did express and awesome attitude towards sucking dick. And attitude is everything. And I haven't been able to get my dick in anyone since last week. He seemed happy that I hit him up again, and told me I could bring my unit by any time for service, and reminded me he didn't swallow but wouldn't make me pull out either, and so today I went by. I came back with nuts that felt about five pounds lighter, barely able to walk from having been intensely pleasured for the better part of an hour by someone so good at cocksucking I have a strong urge to write him a formal letter of recommendation. AH!

He told me he had a new studio not far from his apartment, and that the door was on the street and wide open, to just walk in. I drove over to save time and maximize the cocksucking-- work has been brutal and I can only spare so much time away lately. I parked right nearby, and it was a beautiful bright cool breezy day, perfect for getting your balls drained. I found the door, went inside, and was surrounded by costumes, paintings, props, easels, mannequins, and all kinds of stuff like that in the gloomy interior. The entry was cramped with stuff but as I pushed my way in deeper the space opened up to a big loft with a 20 foot ceiling. No one was there. I called out "hey! Hello!" and he came out of the back, wearing just a pair of shorts. "That was quick!" he said, drying his hands on a towel. He looked a lot handsomer than I remember, honestly. But the body was still pretty bearish-- not really my type but it was ok for a cocksucker. He is extremely hairy, well on the way to monkey-hairy. But he's a good looking guy really. I asked to take a leak and he showed me to a bathroom with a shower and everything in the back. I think he had just taken a shower because the place reeeeeeked of his scent, which is just as I remembered it. I know this turns on a lot of guys but yowza. I did my business, cleaned a little, and went back out.

"I don't have a bed here," he said, pointing to a chair off to the side of the big loft. Daylight streamed through the open door onto the opposite wall, behind the partial wall that blocked the inner loft from the cramped entry. I looked around, shrugged, and kicked off my sneakers and dropped my shorts. I lowered myself in the chair with my thighs parted invitingly, and leaned back to receive my service. He had a big thick piece of egg-crate foam that he put on the floor in front of me. And with no ceremony, he knelt on the foam, put his face between my legs, and sucked my limp dick into his mouth.

And he sucked PERFECTLY. It felt good instantly, but he was taking his time, giving me the slightest stimulation that would get me hard without overstimulating me too soon. It was PERFECT. My dick ceased to even feel like a part of me and melted into his warmth. As it got harder all I felt was the warmth intensifying. At no point was I even sure how thick or long I was; I only felt more and more unified with his throat. The smallest motions of his tongue along the whole length of my meat were just coaxing pleasure out of my tool, and it was several minutes before he moved his head at all, pulling back to let my dick slide out of him along that silky tongue, and when he did, I looked down, and somehow, without feeling anything in my dick except intense warm pleasure, it had become fully erect, and was throbbing now that it was exposed to the cool air. This was awesome.

The stench from his pits was absolutely overwhelming, but I tried to just get used to it. After a while, I couldn't smell it any more. The breeze blew through the place and he masterfully worked my dick over,  and before long I felt completely incapable of really thinking at all. My vision became tunnel-like, focused just on my dick and his face. He would bury his face in my pubes and just inhale there, through his nose and then through his mouth, sucking cool air in all around my dick with it still inside him, somehow opening himself up so that he could both breathe and keep my meat stuffed into him as deep as it would go-- quite a feat. He put his arms up on my body and clasped his hands together, as if he were praying intensely, but he was praying to my balls, basically. I held his rough hairy forearms and just told him to keep sucking, keep sucking, keep sucking.

And he did. When I got close I would make "easy easy easy" sounds and he would instantly adjust, making sure that I hung as close to the edge as possible without danger of slipping over. "I hope you're not in a hurry," I sighed, half-whining, at one point. "I really want to keep feeling this." He tongued the thrilled nerves in my dickhead a few more times, then picked his head up, and looked me in the eye, and said, "No hurry whatsoever." He put his hands on my chest and looked down at my glistening bone, admired it for a few seconds, and then took it back up again, and I went back to heaven.

God knows what it sounded like from the street. I spent half the time with my head tipped back and my arms splayed at my sides, oblivious to anything except the pleasure in my genitals, so for all I know a gaggle of school kids had massed at the door, curious about what all the moaning and whimpering was about, and watched the show. But I just kept encouraging him to do what he was doing-- it was so beautiful.

And then there was the distinctive sound, from the back of the loft, of a doorknob jiggling. It woke me up a bit, and him too; I looked down at his face and his eyes were turned to the side, examining the back door with something like alarm, but being an insanely good cocksucker, he never let up on what he was doing to my meat. He sucked away at me, vigilantly looking to see if we were going to be intruded upon. He'd told me in the beginning that everyone else who shared the space was away, and there was nothing to worry about. But he watched and sucked, and maybe the snap in attention made me suddenly more sensitive, because I was saying, "I am so close, easy, I am so fucking close, you could make me cum just like that, easy, just please let me feel it, please don't make me cum yet, please." I was reduced to a begging, whining ball of goo. He lightened up a little, and I just hung over the precipice of orgasm, head swimming in a cocktail of hormones and pulsing blood, but he was working me just a lit-tle too well, it was a lit-tle too good, and with every brush of his tongue against my dickhead's hotspot he nudged me that much closer to the edge, and I said, "You could make me cum JUST LIKE THAT," and he didn't change his pace at all. I could have sat there all day with his head in my lap, honestly. But he was going to make me cum, it's clearly what he wanted. So I let him. He did one final swipe of his tongue and I was lost. My dick swelled up hard, my dickhead felt like it was filling his whole mouth, ridge of my glans flaring angrily with the need to shoot, and then I was pulsing into him, a red-hot beeline from my nuts through my ducts out my dickhole and into his mouth. Every time I squirted he sucked, every time my dick strained to shoot he relaxed, when my dick relaxed he sucked, and I thought I was going to cum all my insides out into him. My head practically popped. I came and came and came.

When I was done he slowly let me slide out of his mouth, and picked up a towel and spat my funk into it. I grabbed my dick and jacked it, wanting to keep the feeling of orgasm in me somehow. He moved close, to see if any more cum would well up in my dickhole, and some dick, and he pushed my hand away and sucked me down again, sucked too hard, my whole body jerked, the pleasure was unbearable, and I said so. Immediately he stopped sucking and just let my dick melt into his tongue again. Beautiful.

He kept me there for a good while, trying to suck out little drops. Why he was willing to swallow these but not the bulk of my liquid pleasure, I don't know. But finally he let me go, and I had to laugh.

"Now do you remember?" he said, full of preening confidence. I just shook my head and kept laughing, then got up and pulled on my shorts.

We had another long conversation about how the neighborhood is changing, how a flood of money here is sort of ruining everything, pushing things out before new things have a chance to come in. Who knows what this place will look like in a few years. It was very pleasant just sitting and talking, now that I had shot out all my cum. He really had a very handsome face to look at. But finally I knew I had to get back to work. So I thanked him, and he told me he would be in that studio till early September, clearly inviting me back for more service. It was very gracious. But you know me.

On to the next ass!

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