The liberating message arrived. He visibly relaxed. I was glad he was at least as nervous as me. Good thing he didn't need any ceremony; it was very clear why I was here. We'd been building up to this moment for a few weeks, and now it was finally here. He asked where I wanted to do it, but it didn't matter one bit to me; wherever he felt comfortable. So he sat down in the sofa behind him, opened his robe and pulled his pants down a little over his pelvis, but left the honors to me to free his cock. I kicked off my shoes and pulled my sweater over my head, grabbed a pillow from the couch to put under my knees and sat down between his spread thighs. He grinned at me and tried to relax. He intended to enjoy it, and I intended to give him enjoyment, and myself at the same time. He had just been in the shower -- so he had told me -- and he smelled sort of neutral and clean. Soap and excitement.
I pulled his pants further down and let his cock spring free. I knew I didn't have to expect anything spectacular, but still I was pleased with what I had to work with. His meat had a decent girth, with a curved cut shaft, and a nice, well-shaped head. I had preferred uncut, but decided not to let it bother me. I took his pole in my hand and started stroking him, letting him get fully hard while softly licking his shaft and nibbling his head. He put his hand on my arm and sagged back in the couch, unmistakably enjoying the preamble of the in-and-out blowjob he undoubtedly had been fantasizing about himself for a while now. I knew I had. I gorged him down and savored every centimeter of his boner sliding between my lips. I massaged the bottom of his shaft with my tongue and I bobbed my head up and down, sucked in my cheeks and stroked him with my hand where my mouth wasn't. He sighed and fondled my arm with his fingertips, urging me to go on. His precum started welling up already, and I hadn't even started intensifying my efforts yet. I paused and sucked the salty drops from his glans, took a moment to let my tongue run up and down his shaft, and spent a minute nibbling his balls while I kneaded his spitted knob.
His phone rang. He answered it, embarrassed and annoyed, and talked to the person on the other end for a few minutes. The clock was still ticking so I resumed where I had left off, gulped down his bone and applied the suction and friction needed to make him cum without any unnecessary delay. My zealousness didn't miss its effect, because his mind clearly wasn't with the matters discussed. He steered the conversation to its swift conclusion, put his phone out of the way and focused on the stranger seated between his legs enjoying the taste and texture of his throbbing erection. He spoke encouraging words, meeting the bobbing of my head with gentle thrusts of his pelvis. It didn't take long before he told me he was close to orgasm. I braced myself and settled in a steady and efficient rhythm, synchronizing the exertions of my mouth and hand with the increasingly erratic motion of his pelvis. I sensed a blissful consonance descend over him as his shudders faltered and his buttocks and belly clenched up. A warm and creamy taste started filling my mouth, a bit unexpected as I had been concentrated on my task. I hungrily started swallowing, stroking and sucking for all I was worth, thankful for and humbled by this precious gift. He emptied his balls, groaning freely and passionately, and only begged me to stop when his glans turned too sensitive to bear the endearment of my mouth any longer.
Not without some regret I let him pop out of my mouth. It had all gone too fast, and I had felt too detached from my senses to consciously savor all this tantalizing input. But the tangy taste in my mouth asserted itself and -- with some delay -- the realization hit me, permeating me with a not unmerited bliss of my own. Later he confessed that he had masturbated in the shower not long before I had arrived, which made the ease with which I had made cum quite a feat. He laughed a bit uneasily, hiked up his pants and unceremoniously asked me if I wanted something to wash it down. I took a few tissues from a box on the table, wiped off my mouth and beard -- apparently I had spilled quite a bit of his tasteful cum -- and accepted some cola, more to mask the smell for when I would get home than to dilute the taste. We stood in the kitchen talking about nothing in particular, both again a bit uncomfortable, but relieved that this first time was finally out of the way and had been pleasurable for both of us. I knew he would have loved to return the favor, but strangely I didn't feel an urgent need to get immediate relief for myself. There would be a next time, this I knew. I had found my way to his steps now, and whenever the road would bring me close and time would permit, I resolved that more was definitely to come.
We said our goodbyes. I drove home, kissed my wife goodnight, and dreamed...
