I don't quite remember when I first realized I had a thing for cocks.
I remember watching porn as a normal hormonal teenager and eventually noticing that I seemed to greatly enjoy the parts my peers often would often skip. There were times when I'd fire up a scene and find nothing so hot as the opening blowjob. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed the sex as well, but as I grew able to admit things to myself I found that I was once again at odds with my fellow supposedly straight males.
You see, porn is a fantasy. You insert yourself into that fantasy being that none of us are ever likely to be banging a revolving door of beautiful women with our average looks and average cocks and this thing called the real world getting in the way. That's why it's a fantasy and why I did exactly as intended. I inserted myself into the fantasy, but on the opposite end.
You'd think that it would be obvious, something you would notice straight away, and yet it took me a while to realize that fantasizing about having my dick sucked would never make me quite as stiff as fantasizing about being the one sucking dicks instead.
But I'm not gay. At least not completely. In the world of men who want to suck cocks there is a surprising horde of "straight" guys out there. I don't know if they're afraid of the term bisexual, but if the age of the internet and my particular browsing habits have taught me one thing it's that apparently there's nothing gay about a man sucking another mans cock.
Oh, and I'm not talking about trans women here who are in fact, you know, women. I'm talking about man cock. Maybe it was a privilege of the environment I grew up in that I had no trouble eventually accepting that on that great sliding scale I was certainly somewhere in the middle.
You see, I like women. I think they're beautiful, heck, some are down right divine and if given half the chance I'd jump on the chance to be with them.
But I want to suck cock.
So what? You might say. In my two and half decades on this earth I've spent nearly half of that time with an itch I've yet to scratch. An itch that has led me from message board to message board, to ordering from certain shops assured of their "discreet packaging", to reading up on male pleasure, to going on a hunt for the mythic prostate orgasm, without success thus far unfortunately but certainly enjoyable nonetheless. For years i've had this itch and for years i've yet to touch any cock save from my own.
Let me say that again: I want to suck cock. At least that's how it started out. Let me clarify the current state of affairs for you. I want to be on my knees worshipping dick. I want to feel a bulbous head slide past my lips, and I want the man attached to it to know exactly what he wants.
I want to get fucked. I want a man to take his cock and use my hole for his pleasure.
As you can see, I've developed my desires a bit more than the initial porno fantasies of my formative years.
I like to think I know what I like. Again, I do enjoy having sex with women, and I have absolutely no desire to be pegged by them, nor do I have any desire to penetrate a man, but there is a reason why nearly every heat induced fantasy i've had while self pleasuring myself has been about submitting to a man and his cock for years now.
Which is how I guess all this business got started.
I met him on one of those websites on one of those posts, you know the ones. There are always three types of people on those sorts of websites. The ones on the hunt for something or someone whether it be a one time hookup or the start of something more. Then there were ones who already had something and were showing it off or had a word of encouragement or advice for those in need. Lastly there were the ones who were into this sort of thing and could say the filthiest things you've ever heard but ultimately knew they would never actually do anything.
I myself believed I was firmly in that third category. Horny as anything, but too chicken to actually follow through. Well, that's how it starts for some I suppose.
He replied to some comment of mine and I replied back and it went back and forth like that for a while across different threads and different days, bumping into my internet stranger every now and then and learning about each other in subtle ways. It was clear he was on the opposite spectrum from me, a top to be sure and immensely confident in his abilities which I figured either meant he was a complete joke or God's gift to men since there simply can be no middle ground in such affairs.
One day I logged on and there was a private message. My heart started racing. Let me jump ahead and spoil this moment for a second: That message was nothing provocative. It wasn't a request, it wasn't some naughty declaration, and it damn sure wasn't a dick pic. It was just a greeting. A greeting that I, a fully capable adult on a random website had no obligation to even reply to if I so choose.
But I did. Do you ever have that moment when you know you're going to do something deep down, but your fully conscious mind hasn't accepted that fact yet? I think that's what was going on with me when I replied.
Actually I know what was going through my mind when I replied:
What if he's really an asshole? What if he thinks I'm ugly? I'm not, but I don't know what this man is into. Oh my god, what if he's ugly? Shallow you say? It wasn't like I was looking to suck and fuck someones inner beauty here, he better be attractive even if this only went as far as some online flirting since for all I knew this was the one and only time i'd be doing this kind of thing. Wanted it to be just right you see. He was, by the way, attractive. Something I'd find out a bit later. Anyway, jumping to conclusions was clearly a theme of that first private message.
After creating a list of pros and cons in my head I responded with my best "i'm not overly excited but it's also nice to hear from you" line.
"Hey there."
Smooth as anything.
So that's how it started. Messages back and forth that eventually became more and more intimate over time.
Where are you based? Oh an hour away? Fuck me, isn't that just convienient. Have I ever done this kind of thing? No, just a fantasy. You? Oh of course you have.
I tell him things I've never told anyone directly. It's a different feeling being a voice among many than it is talking to another person directly. So you've got no experience at all? I tell him about the toy collection I have secreted away in my closet despite living alone just in case my mother ever drops by and decides to clean my room unexpectedly.
He laughs at that. Do the toys make me feel good? They do but I wonder if it's more psychological than physical. He tells me they're more connected than I realize and being in the right mindspace can make all the difference.
I want to say, yeah, of course I know that, but I don't. My imagination isn't bad but i'm guessing it's a pale substitute for the feeling of a man grabbing my hips and pounding me senseless, so I bow to his experience
Would I ever consider doing something like this for real? Maybe. Maybe, but I'd have to be very comfortable with someone to show them that side of me without the buffer of a computer screen. I'd have to trust them.
"Do you trust me?," he asks.
...
"I could learn to."
Eventually we exchange pictures. Well, we exchange social media which is a slightly less creepy way of saying hey I wanna see your face now. Like I said, handsome. This is another point of contention for me. If you recall, this all started off as an obsession, a desire for cocks. I'm a connoisseur of them. Some I like, some not so much. I have a particular head shape I like, I like a certain curvature. I'm not a snob, but some look better than others. Men on the other hand...a mixed bag.
I don't want to come off as having high standards, but the average guy is just so so for me. Not hideous, not ugly, but not also not someone whose cock i'd like down my throat. But he was handsome. Taller than me, which I'm ashamed to admit I was into despite knowing no one can control their height, naturally tanned skin, winning smile, teeth like he just walked out of a toothpaste commercial. He was handsome. Above average. So above average I wondered what he was doing talking to me.
