Dildo

siktici ©2017

*

I avoided writing this story for years, at first, out of sheer embarrassment. Some of it is true, some of it is embellished with slivers of truth. I couldn't deny the story any longer, as it insisted.

I closed a 21-year military career on March 1997; I came out to myself (To do so while in the military was still a pension killer); and I went back to my childhood city of Houston. The city had shed its cowtown isolation by wooing transplants with job opportunities and lower taxes. It lured me with the promise to be wooed by Friends of Dorothy; so, I found my voice, smiled as honestly as I could, and advertised my interests to every man who set off my gaydar. I failed to attract flies.

I didn't know the rules and I didn't swagger with narcissistic indifference, because I approached my community with honesty—a rookie mistake. So, I courted resentment, turned my smile upside-down, and exited shallow conversations before the slightest rejection.

Summer came stifling and claustrophobic, and I was jerking off to Richard Locke, Fred Halsted, and Casey Donovan. This trio represented the continuum of my sexual hunger. Although these men had long succumbed to AIDS, I enjoyed their bodies and their performances, while feeling a tinge of guilt at their demise.

Until a muggy summer's night in August 1997, I was convinced that watching Richard, Fred, and Casey was going to be as close as I would come to realizing my lust. I had made the circuit from JR's to Pacific Street to The Mining Company. Loneliness suggested I stay at The Mining Company, go to an outside bar, and occasionally look over the bar's high walls to lovers moseying along in the steamy night. I cursed them and pickled myself in vodka.

"Where is he?" a man asked with a very deep voice that vibrated from my ass to my nipples. I turned to see a very tall and tanned Texas Daddy, holding a Cosmo and something in a snifter. I remained perched on a high bench next to a high wall—just staring. "If you come down, I can give you this," he said and extended the Cosmo. "Come on. Yeah, that's better. Here ya go."

I sat beside him at the bar and said nothing; I was stunned by his handsomeness, of course, but I was terrified by his overture. I didn't know the rules. Here was my lust personified and I didn't know how to handle the situation.

"You won't scare me away, but if I were shallow, your acting like a scared deer would make me head for the door." His expression softened and he added, "Relax and give me you."

How did he know? I DID slowly relax, but I remained cautious.

"Okay, let's start with stats; that's pretty neutral," he began with a wink.

"I'm in my fifties, weigh a buck eighty-five, in a six-two slimming frame; and not bad to look at if I say so myself. I'm a retired real estate developer and avid boater. I'm out to the important people in my life, fuck everybody else. I'm a member of the leather community, but I'm pretty guarded about that part of my life. My clients really wouldn't take me seriously if they saw me in ass-less chaps," he said and poked me in the side. He had friends at all levels of gay life, enjoyed gourmet food, top shelf brandy, and the occasional joint. Undoubtedly, he liked having a fit body and he seemed highly educated.

After a little while, I found my voice. "I'm thirty (I lied), five-seven, one-fifty, soak and wet."

He said I wore it well, and my asshole squirmed at his intense look. I shyly smiled. "I'm just out of the military, where I used my dick and my imagination to keep me going until retirement," I said and finished with, "Don't worry, I won't wake you with the click of M16."

"I'm not worried," he said, "Some of my best friends are—"

I laughed.

"I'm amazed at your self-control, though. Working out must've helped you through that, huh?" he asked.

I nodded.

Again, he complemented my highly toned body, as I explained that I was only out to my mother and my best friend who weren't surprised.

"We are always the last to know," he said, and we laughed.

And finally, I explained that my refinements amounted to the occasional top-shelf vodka, an imported beer, camping, and marathons.

"I'll teach you about refinement, because you deserved the finer things," he said and took my hand to kiss us into turbulence.

Breathlessly, I said, "I'll do it," as my eyes fluttered and I shook away lust.

"You're adorable," he said.

I feigned offense.

"Hold on," he said grabbing my arm. "I'm not kidding." Taking my hand in his, he short-circuited me with his touch. "It's because you don't know how to be slick that turns me on," he said and turned me back to my drink.

"Adorable?" I asked, failing to hide my heated shyness.

"Yeah, adorable. I see you as a fawn trying out its legs for the first time," he said, and seeing that he was making the situation worse, he added: "I'm over slick moves and double-talk about how good a guy would be or how he's the answer to my prayers. So, when a guy like you blows into town, I count myself lucky that I get to have an honest moment with a very handsome guy."

Okay, he got me. Besides that, I felt lucky to find a handsome older man who found me attractive, and perhaps, mature. And more than that, I fell in lust the instant I turned from The Mining Company's high wall.

We had a nightcap at his place, an aging condo that sat slightly west of Pacific Street. It was smartly furnished with gay subtleties. The walls and minimal furniture exuded masculinity. Autumnal hues in masculine paintings, genitally protracted sculptures, and touches that called to mind world travel to none-beaten paths completed the motif. Books on architecture, photography, and war stood out from the usual books found in a bachelor's library and proved his sophistication.

"You have a nice place," I said as he handed me a small glass of a liquor unknown to me.

"I'll show it to you later," he said and pulled me to a deftly stuffed couch. I barely had time to place the drink on the table before he pulled me into a breathless kiss. "I'm sorry," he said on our surfacing. "You make me base. I hope I didn't overwhelm you," he said and weakly smiled.

I only managed, "Don't stop," before he took me back to the depths.

-------------

I woke with a pounding head, naked, and tied to an ornate high-back chair. Across from the chair sat a large French provincial bed. The headboard's carvings made me feel like captured royalty, while the bedding held heavy embroidered depictions of French culture. Classical music murmured from every corner and soundless porn played from at least three flat screens.

He stood in silhouette at the top of the stairs surveying what he had conquer. The room was cold and dim, saved for the gothic candles on either side of my chair. Moving slowly down the stairs, he pointed out, "You made this too easy; I don't like anything easy." Seeing him enter the light, my eyes widen but no sound of distress escaped me. "I need quiet when I play; you understand," he said moving into candlelight and checking my gag. "I haven't soundproofed the room—neighbors, you know."

He wore ass-less chaps, a gladiator's harness, and heavy biker boots. His leather ensemble appeared less menacing at his completing it with a leather Confederate cap. No disrespect to the Confederacy, but I would have reacted more to a policeman's cap. Policing always scared me; however, the thickness of his ass, squeezed in the clearance of the chaps, his deep tan, and acres of silky hairiness, pushed all my bullshit musing aside. There was something in his delivery: the heavy East Texas drawl, the low rumblings of sinister behavior, the purposeful slowness of his movements that seductively burned away imminent fear. He was the master manipulator, doling exquisite anticipation, moving me toward participation.

"You know, you're a really good kisser, and not knowing how, you deftly communicate what you want in those kisses." He said with a heavy sigh, "So..., I have come to the disappointing conclusion that we are looking for the same man."

He circled me like an interrogator. "Naturally, who-does-what-to-whom works itself out over time, but..." He paused for effect, grabbed the arms of the chair, and drew within inches,"...I'm a selfish son of a bitch, and after discussing everything, I could gamble that you wouldn't let me on that huge cock, willingly." He stood and looked on me as if his actions were perfectly reasonable.

On turning and bending, he presented his beautifully hairy ass, and in the dim light I could only see a leather jock's strap disappear between his meaty globes. "It's time to give my hole some attention," he said straddling the chair and coming as close to my face as he could. In a smooth motion, he pulled aside the strap and pluck an incredibly large butt plug from his now spasming hole. Ass juice splashed my face in a shocking spray. "Beautiful, just beautiful," he said looking at my slimy face. Grabbing the back of my head, he reached back and pulled the gag from my mouth. "Now push that tongue and those nasty lips into my hungry hole," he commanded. And to my burning humiliation, he backed into my face, smashed my lips apart, and pushed onto my tongue as if it was a dildo.

I straddled anger and lust and uselessly tried to free myself, but my lust won, and I opened my mouth wider. His hole was juicy and warm. My ears were filled with the slimy slurping of my tongue as I slid easily and deeply into his hole. And, damn, I loved it. From my movements, he relaxed into a rhythm. With each thrust, and his hand on the back of my head, his hole grew larger and hungrier; and to breathe, I had to use great strength to wrench my head from his grasp.

My lust was ebbing to fatigue, which was slowly replaced by anger. He really WAS selfish, and words that usually held lust, became embarrassingly clear. As he pitched and grounded to cumming, the voice in my mind found its way out: I was his dildo—Dildo—"DILDO!" I screamed into his ass.

He moved away cautiously. "Oh, I'm sorry. I got carried away by your skill. Let me get you a towel. You're not mad, are you? Just harmless fun," he said using a towel to wipe my mouth.

Despite my attempt to look angry, I simply wasn't, because I not only marveled at his creative approach to rimming, I fuckin' loved the nasty implication brought from the raw display of usage—all to say that I loved how he used me and I wanted more.

After wiping my face, he replaced the gag and lowered to my crotch. Also slimmed in his ass juice, my cock pointed unapologetically north. If I wanted to deny my lust from his selfishness, my cock wouldn't stand for it. "Such a big fuckin' cock. Ooh, yeah, you want my hot cunt on this thing, don't you?" he asked lightly touching my cock head and licking his fingers. It's finger-lickin' good! quickly passed through my mind along with the hundreds of growing pleas for him to worship my cock. Suck it, suck it, Suck It. "SUCK IT!" The command surprised us both, but I remained unapologetic. Eating his slimy cunt had pushed me into a primal realm.

"Yes, Sir!" he said mockingly, because I wasn't in control; but because of his exquisite skill, I didn't want to be.

He flicked his tongue over my sticky cockhead and traced his tip along my tri-cylinder. My precum seemed to flow freer and thicker. I squirmed against the bindings in delicious urgings of my pelvis—humping dry air until I felt his mouth cover my cockhead like a hood.

"Mmm, it's fuckin' delicious," he said between agonizingly sliding from the base of my cock all the way up to my piss slit. "I can barely get my lips to stretch over this monster, but I love it." He said, his lips seeming to move in slow motion.

"Ride me,' I said before I knew it.

"What do you want?" he said between gag-inspired slurps.

"Ride my fuckin' cock," I said with my eyes squeezed completely shut. "Just milk me, man. Come, goddamn it."

"Easy, easy," he said rising. With a cock-teasing lube massage, he generously slicked my cock to glistening before fingering copious amounts in his gaping cunt.

"Now, what do you want me to do?" he asked with my cockhead massaging his assuring.

"Ah, Come-on, man, do it," I said trying desperately to push my hungry cock into his cunt.

Grabbing my shoulders to still me, he mercifully began a slow descent.

I couldn't take my eyes off him as I watched him accommodate my eight inches. He grimaced, bit back, and intermittingly smiled as he lowered to my balls.

"There," he said slowly moving in tight circles of adjustment.

His rising, adjusting, circling—all conspired to make me cum before I wanted. "Grab my balls. Grab 'em tight," I said, but he was way ahead. He locked my balls in a tight fist before putting on the tightest and heaviest ball stretcher. I had never felt such a sensation. I wanted to cum right then and there, but the stretcher kept me from it.

Pulling on the stretcher, he lowered all the way down to my balls. It felt as if a fire had started where he ended and I began.

"Oh, yeah," he said, "you're so fuckin big. Such a big cock." His expressions more than delighted me, they pushed my caldera of cum up to my shaft and expanded it even more. "Yeah, push that cock in me" he said as he began moving up and down my cock. So, fluid were his strokes that the milking sensation he produced felt like fingers gripping my cock, squeezing and releasing, as it coaxed my lava-like cum from its reservoir.

"Ahhh, Oh shit. Yeah, yeah, yeah," he said over and over as his cum shot all over me. It splashed into my face, hung on my chin, and oozed through my hairy chest. He continued to ride my cock until an eruption rapidly approached my piss slit.

"I'm gonna cum," I shouted.

"Give it to me. Yeah, pump that load in my mouth" he said and brought his mouth over my cockhead to begin milking me as he had with his cunt. I felt like a cow being milked, as he drew all my essence into his throat. Sputtering, he moved away to collect himself as the last smaller arcs of my cum spotted his back and ass.

We were a sticky, sated mess, as we fought for composure.

And when all had quieted.

He stood and looked at me, still tied to the chair.

"That was good, for a start, but I have more planned for you."

Too tired to raise my head, I said, "Good, but this time I'll tie you down and have my way with you."

"You read my mind," he said and moved back to nursing my deflated cock.