So, I discovered I was a cocksucker. That day in the book store had shown me that I loved having a cock in my mouth and cum filling my mouth. It showed me that when I was doing my best to please a cock I didn't care who knew. I didn't care who heard me say I wanted to have my mouth used and filled with the results of my attention. And yet, when I left that bookstore I was embarrassed at what I had done. I could not understand how I had become so willing to be used for another man's pleasure.
On the one hand I knew that if my friends, or the women I went out with, or my family knew I had willingly got down on my knees and sucked a cock until it exploded in my mouth I would never live it down. I would be shamed to have them know. They would no longer think of me as a man, but rather a cocksucker... a faggot, even a sissy. And yet. And yet I had cum without touching myself as I worshiped that cock. I was confused. I was scared. I was worried.
I knew I still loved women. I knew that it was amazing to feel my cock slip in to the nice wet, tight, warm depths of a woman's pussy. To explore her body. To feel her nipples harden in my mouth. To taste her juices as I went down on her. And yet. And yet I had cum without touching myself as I worshiped that cock.
I knew I could never do it again or I would surely be what I feared. I would become that faggot. I knew that if I did I would eventually be caught. Someone would see me in that bookstore. Someone I knew would see me go back to the booths and perhaps even feed me their cock through the hole and that my worst fears would come true. And yet. And yet I had cum without touching myself as I worshiped that cock.
Over the next several weeks I avoided any thought of going to that bookstore. But when a day or two would go by without being with a woman and relieving the pressure I would, like most men my age, find myself pleasing myself. And as I stroked my cock and brought myself to release I would without exception find myself thinking about how that cock felt in my mouth. I would have explosive orgasms as a result and the guilt would again flood over me renewing my vow to never let myself do that terrible thing again.
I could not understand why, when I had these fantasies while masturbating, I would never think of the other man sucking my cock, only of sucking theirs. The thrill for me was that act of sucking cock. The thrill for me, I gradually realized, was being used. In being willing to please a man asking nothing in return other than having them reward me with a mouthful of cum. The more I fantasized the more I found my fantasies raising the level of my submission to these men.
Having that man in the bookstore call me a cocksucker had thrilled me. Having him call me a boy, rather than a man, had thrilled me. In my fantasies I heard men calling me those names. Heard men calling me more, like slut, cumslut, cock whore, and even more. I heard those men telling me what a faggot I must be to love sucking cock so much. I heard them telling me I wasn't a man at all, only a sissy that belonged on my knees with a real man's cock in my mouth. I did not know where these fantasies came from. But I knew I loved them and that worried me. I had always thought of myself as a man. I had always thought that I was normal but now I knew there was something different about me. I was submissive. Oh my God, I was submissive. That meant I was less than a man. That meant that I would only be happy being used by others. I started fantasizing about being submissive to women too, and while that also thrilled me it was being used by a man that really turned me on. Was it true? Did I want to be someone's bitch? Even more did I want to be anyone's bitch... everyone's bitch? I realized that I did.
Soon masturbation wasn't enough. I knew eventually I would have to find a way to once again suck cock. I knew I would have to suck lots of cock. I knew I would eventually want to suck everyone's cock. I really was becoming a slut and yet I had only sucked one cock one time. About a month had gone by when I knew I had to go back to that bookstore. And so one day I did.
The same gruff older man was sitting behind the counter and when I walked in he looked up, smiled, and called me over to the counter. I was surprised he remembered me and nervously walked over to the counter, my face growing redder, but my cock growing harder. As I approached the counter he said in a normal voice that sounded to me like he was yelling for everyone to hear, "I wondered if you would come back boy, I wondered if you would be accept how much you loved sucking my cock and come back for more."
I didn't say anything, to embarrassed to respond but my cock throbbed when he called me boy. "Well boy, is that what you came back for? Did you realize how much you loved being a cocksucker?"
My cock running so much precum now that I was going into a trance of excitement I quietly responded in the only way I could. "Yes Sir."
"Then go back to booth 4 boy and I will be back in a few minutes. I have to do a few things first so you just wait for me back there. Oh, and I want you to strip naked once you are in the booth. Boys that suck my cock regularly do so naked boy."
Again I felt like he was shouting loud enough for the world to hear but despite my fear I found myself heading back to the booth area and closing the door to booth 4 behind me. For a few seconds I just stood there in the dark, wondering how far I was going to go with this, but my dripping cock showed me more than anything that this was what I wanted. I wanted to be used by this man. I needed to be used by this man.
