The Blow Job

I knelt before him, my knees cushioned by the soft shag carpet. He was utterly naked, his hard, hairy body completely open to my eyes and touch. His cock hung at rest over his balls, pointing downward... down to my eager and hungry mouth.

On my knees, in what was supposedly a subservient position -- that of the cocksucker as opposed to the cocksuckee -- I never felt more in control. On other nights and in other situations we could be, and indeed were, equals. As a lover, friend and partner I could not ask for much more. Tonight, though, was different. Tonight, while appearing to give myself utterly to him, I would, in fact, be wallowing in self-indulgent lust.

Yesterday and tomorrow he was and would be my reason for living. Tonight he was just a cock -- this cock -- now faintly stirring with life in response to my simply kneeling before it and contemplating its beauty. It really was beautiful, I noted, as I took the time to examine it carefully.

The head was soft to the touch, the way no other part of his body ever was. It did look like a helmet, with the mouthlike slit where the spike or plume would be. Now that tiny mouth was opening, speaking in small droplets of clear, sticky precum, that precious fluid that prepared the way for the glories yet to come.

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Around the edge of the head was the tender meaty ridge that I so enjoyed nibbling on. It made a near perfect ring, except for the break on the bottom. The break formed an arrow seemingly molded into the flesh, pointing at the fount of his manly nectar.

His shaft, now legthening as his hot blood rushed to engorge his tool, provided further visual delights. First was the reddish pink ring that was part of the head. A few teeth gently scraped along this surface at just the right moment could produce the most interesting reactions. It was very tender and always deserved to be treated with the utmost in tender loving care.

Beneath that was a dark brown ring that marked where his foreskin had been cut off. There are some who prefer their cocks uncut, but not me. An uncut penis is like a theater before the houselights go down and the curtain has gone up. The fleshy pole before me instead seemed like a solo star turn, with all the footlights and spotlights geared to emphasizing this one point onstage.

Still lower was the pink flesh which led to the rest of his body. Even here there were signs of erotic delights to be followed, such as the dark, curly pubic hair which reached out to surround this magnificent member, like vines around a mighty tree.

His dark triangle was like a private garden. It had a fountain, it had tangled undergrowth, it had two boulders which offered unique vantage points, and it had paths leading away from the garden that held the promise of other exotic delights that might yet be discovered. Right now I examined those moss covered boulders, the wrinkled, hairy sac which contained his balls. Even as I watched they were manufacturing that hot cream that I would eventually allow him to shoot down my throat. That, however, would be in good time.

Without my having touched him -- without having done anything more than simply let my eyes dance through the region of his groin -- he had become hard and aroused. His flaccid dick had literally stretched itself out to its full seven inches, and was now twitching in anticipation of what I would do next.

Since my plan was to indulge each of my senses tonight, what I did next was press my face into his crotch, instantly becoming drunk from the heady scent of his masculinity. The combination of sight and smell had their desired effect. I no longer was content to be the passive observer here. I wanted this cock, and I wanted it now. It was time for action.

My hand reached for his scrotal pouch and gently hefted it, as much for the feel as for a bit of misdirection. As he focused his attention on his balls, I leaned forward and -- quick as a whip -- darted out my tongue to lick the quivering drop of precum that had formed at his cocktip. He shuddered aloud, as much from the surprise as from the sensation, and the sound of his gasp added to my sensory enjoyment of the situation.

I let go of his balls, and grasped his fleshy piston at the piston. Simultaneously this increased his excitement as at last he got the firm contact that he craved, while it also served to calm him down, reminding him that tonight his sexually satisfaction was a happy by-product, not the reason, for my actions.

I examined the stiff dick in my hand. The blue veins literally pulsed with the blood that was forced into his cock to create the hard firmness I loved so much. Still holding it, I gently licked the underside of his tool, savoring both the taste and near swoon that welcomed my ministrations.

Crouching down between his muscular thighs, I opened my mouth wide, to take his hot nuts into my mouth. Gently, ever so gently, I sucked on them, spurring them on in their production of manly juices. When my tongue pressed up between them, spreading them apart, I was afraid he was going to lose it right there. I disengaged and pulled back, waiting for him to mentally reset the hair trigger on pulsing weapon.

This teasing could have gone on for hours, and on other nights it did. Then the purpose was to drive him wild and having literally begging for release. When it came -- when he came -- it was an awesome moment that sealed the bond between us. Tonight, though, it was my schedule we were adhering to, and now I wanted to take that beautiful cock into my mouth and suck on it as if my life depending on it. Which is exactly what I did.

First I pursed my lips into a tight ring so that every millimeter of his dickflesh would be tantalized by my soft wet lips. When my nose was buried at its hairy root, with his balls grazing my chin, I paused to drink in the sensations of the moment.

The soft head of his dick grazed the roof of my mouth, but I had long since learned how to suppress the gag reflex that might have pushed it back. His long rod pulsed on my tongue. I could literally taste the changes in pressure as the blood coursed through his pole. Some more precum dribbled out and I could taste it on the back of my tongue as slid across it and down my throat.

Now I pulled back, exerting a gentle suction as I drew my lips across his veiny member. Again I plunged downward, exhilirated by the feeling of his cock penetrating my face. I continued doing this until he began rolling his hips and moving his stiff prick on his own accord. I stopped my motion -- not to restrain him, but in order to experience the sheer animal sensation of having my face fucked. As he penetrated my mouth, again and again, I kept my eyes open in order to fully drink in the moment.

My tongue flicked the slick underside of his dick as his fucking motions increased. I took his hands and placed them on the back of my head. This served not only to steady his balance, but to encompass me in his urgent need. As he thrusted his crotch into my face, impaling me with his erection, his hands pulled my head inward towards the boiling cream that was rising up from his balls.

I reached out and grabbed his ass cheeks, my fingers probing for that secret hole where my own stiffness would be buried later that evening. That penetrating finger pressed the final button for his orgasm. All in an instant he clamped down on my finger, pushed my face so deeply into his crotch that I could count the individual pubic hairs, and thrust upward in a final motion that symbolized for me the joy and the excitement that is fucking.

The world came to a standstill, as he teetered on the precipice. I could feel that moment of indecision, where he could pull back in hopes of achieving still greater heights, or go ahead into glorious free fall. He fell, and his cock began shooting forth like a geyser.

As there is a moment of indecision in fucking, so is there one in cocksucking -- to swallow or not to swallow. I always opt to swallow, which was fortunate since I was so position that my choice was reduced to swallowing or foregoing breathing. His dick was sheathed so deeply in my mouth that the first two shots missed my tongue entirely and went directly down my throat. Then, as he relaxed slightly and leaned back, the remaining nectar poured out onto my tongue, where I could enjoy its salty, manly essence.

Such was the intensity of the moment that we remain locked together in this fashion for several minutes, long enough for me to drain him dry, and finally return his now flaccid tool to the state where I had originally found it.

When I finally rose from the floor, my head was swimming from the indescribably ecstasies of achieving the perfect blow job. In reducing himself, for just a while, to the stiff cock that I needed for this fantasy, he had given me a great gift. How could I ever show my gratitude and devotion for this present? One look into his eyes gave me the answer.

Tomorrow night would be my turn........!

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