Jay

Foreword

Jay came to me in my direct messages. He had seen my photo, found it stimulating and suggested he would like to suck my cock. I do not know and have never met Jay. I do not know where he lives, where he works, or what occupation he follows. I don't suppose I know any of the places he knows. He reports that he lives thousands of miles from me. He is married and bisexual.

Usually when I write a story for Literotica, I spend a fair amount of my imagination on drafting details and descriptions to provide the 'who,' the 'where' and the 'why' for my story. I did not do that in this story: partly because I did not have the kind of raw material I usually have; partly because I spent all my imagination on the 'what.' What happens if one squelches homophobia, dials down the volume on one's ordinary sexual preference, and just imagines what it would be like to be fellated by a man.

If you are disappointed by the lack of detail, I apologize. Jay, this one's for you. I hope you like the story as much as I liked imagining what that might be like.

***

I always figured that I was as straight as Washington Boulevard until Jay said he wanted to suck my cock. It got me wondering whether I had been missing out. It seems Jay had seen a photograph of me. It had been taken in the library. I was in business clothes - a dress shirt with tie and dark slacks. The camera had caught me with my hand hanging below my waist at just about the level of the fly in my trousers. Jay found it suggestive and he said so.

I did not know Jay very well. I knew he was a married guy a few years younger than I am. I did not know it beforehand, but I learned that he identifies as bisexual. His wife, he told me, was aware of his orientation, she just may not be aware how actively bisexual he is. She knew about an episode or two that they had engaged in together, but not about all of Jay's conquests and solo adventures. That is not really my business.

Anyway, Jay saw my photo and remarked. "That photo looks like you are rubbing yourself through your slacks."

"I wasn't really," I told him. "It's just the camera angle and I got caught in motion. That's the way it came it out."

"Well, I'd happily give that thing a good rubbing, or even get down on my knees give it a righteous sucking," Jay volunteered.

The suggestion made me feel a little awkward.

"How big are you?" he inquired.

"Just average, I responded. "Could we let that drop?"

We didn't, of course, not right away. Jay asked a few more questions about my sexual anatomy and sexual experience and volunteered a few more details of his own. I tried to keep my part of the conversation to monosyllables. Eventually, the subject changed.

Later in the day, when I was alone, I could not stop thinking about our conversation. The noise in my head would not stop:

"The guy said he wanted to suck my cock. All my girlfriends have sucked it. I guess it's not that strange. Yeah, but he's a guy. Yeah, he's a pretty good-looking younger guy. Sounds like he has sucked some cocks, too. But, he's a guy. Yeah, some guys suck other guy's cocks. He wanted to know how big my cock is. Yeah, and you could have told him how big your cock is, couldn't you? Of all the women who have sucked you, how many made you come? Only Julia, but she knew what she was doing. You think Jay knows what he's doing when he sucks cock? Well, he has one. He's a guy. Do you want to suck

his

cock? No! He's a guy! I want

him

to suck

my

cock. You what?"

That is the collapsed version of the noise in my head. I did not come to my conclusion quite so quickly. When I came to the conclusion, however, it was inescapable. I wanted to be fellated by a man who knew what he was doing. I was perfectly willing to be one of that young guy's 'variety sex objects.' He was not going to leave his wife of more than a decade. I was not going to suddenly turn gay. We had already established that Jay was an adventurer. And, I had just realized that I was inclined to have a strange sexual adventure of my own - with a guy.

I revisited these ideas for a couple days. Further reflection did not change my conclusion. Without going into a lot of unnecessary detail, let us just say that Jay's and my orbits intersect at intervals, but we don't see one another daily. I thought repeatedly about how, when I next encountered Jay, I would return our conversation to the proposition that made me feel awkward and open negotiations. It proved simple enough when the time came - I apologized.

"Jay," I said, when we met some days later, "I am sorry. You were asking me some questions the other day and I kind of clammed up on you. There really is no reason why we cannot talk frankly about personal things. I'll try to put aside my awkwardness."

Jay looked a little puzzled. He did not seem to know what personal conversation I had thought awkward. Not sharing my level of sexual repression, he may genuinely not have found the conversation awkward. I do not know.

I continued. "My cock is six inches long when it's fully erect. I really am average, but some girlfriends have told me that I am big around. I never measured that."

"Oh, yeah," he said, "I am actually a little shorter than that."

"Yes, you told me," I said. "And, to remedy some of my other sort of evasive responses; I've been circumcised since infancy; and no, I've never had any kind of sex with another man."

"My first time with another man was at my wife's suggestion, but I've done it dozens of times since then more or less on my own," Jay reminded me.

"Yes, I know, you told me. You also told me that you would like to rub my cock and balls and treat me to a blow-job. Does that offer still hold?" I inquired.

"Sure!" Jay said enthusiastically. "I got the sense you weren't interested." He took a step toward me with his hand stretched toward my crotch.

I raised my hand like a cop directing traffic. "Not right now," I said. "But, I thought about it. I think I'd like that. Let's make a date for next week, my house, I'll text you the address. It will be my first time with a guy. I want it to be just right."

And that was it. I had a date for the following Friday afternoon to get my cock sucked ... by a guy. I did want it to be just right. I needed to make some preparations. They did not need to be too extensive, but a few details had to be attended to.

On Monday, I went to the liquor store and bought a quart of whisky and some soda water. It was just a little something to calm jittery nerves. I could not guess whether Jay would be nervous. He had not seemed too nervous when we talked. He had seemed more like he was ready to service me on the spot. Still, I knew that on Friday afternoon I was going to want a drink.

On Tuesday, the cleaning lady came. The house got dusted and vacuumed. The kitchen got cleaned. The house looked suitable for visitors.

I went for a haircut on Wednesday. When I came home, I got out the beard trimmer, and a safety razor and I did some manscaping. I trimmed my bushy pubic hair back so that it did not extend beyond the seams on the bikini briefs I had decided to wear. Then I, ever so carefully, shaved my wrinkly pink scrotum and the shaft of my distinctly average-sized cock. I put some effort into getting a clean close shave.

On Thursday, I teased my well-manscaped cock fully erect, I shot a glorious dick pic with my cell-phone and attached the picture to the text with my address and invitation to Jay for the next afternoon. He replied almost immediately:

"LOL, be there with bells on. CU Tomorrow. Nice cock!"

Just before the appointed hour on Friday, I showered and put on my bikini briefs, a dress shirt, and the same print tie, slacks, socks, and shoes I had worn in the photo Jay had remarked on. I was looking pretty much the gentleman from the library who had left his coat hanging on a chair. The bell rang about 3:00 and I asked Jay in.

"I was just going to pour myself a whisky and soda. Can I get you one?" I offered.

Jay apprised the bottle. "Can I have one neat?"

"Sure," I replied.

We sat in a pair of armchairs in the living room, sipping and talking about whisky for a few minutes. I was nervous despite the whisky. Jay seemed unperturbed and looked curiously about the room. My glass was still half-full when Jay drained his.

"So, buddy, are you ready for me to pop your cherry?" Jay asked.

As much as I had been craving the new experience, I was not sure I was ready. I put the brave face on.

"Yeah," I said in the most conversational tone I could muster, "Let's do this."

Jay stood up from his seat. I mirrored his action. He took a couple quick steps and closed the distance between us. As he had the week before, he stretched his right hand for my crotch. This time his hand took possession of my cock and balls through my slacks. He groped me firmly. He leaned into me. I felt the stubble on his face against my cheek. He kissed me fully on the mouth and stuck his tongue between my lips. I could taste the whisky on his kiss. It was stronger and more pungent than the mild whisky and soda I had been sipping. Everything about his embrace was more forceful than anything I had previously experienced in lovemaking.

I was a little taken aback. I realized that Jay was French kissing me and that, so far, I had not really had the presence of mind to reciprocate. Surely, I would have with a woman. The noise inside my head started again, "Have you ever gotten a blow-job without getting kissed first? No? Well, then?" I made an effort to kiss Jay back with the same aggressive, masculine style he was employing. It felt strange, but not bad.

Jay took half a step back and looked into my eyes. His hand did not leave my crotch. I realized that I had developed a mighty erection and a damp spot on the front of my slacks.

"How big did you say you are?" Jay queried.

"Six inches, stiff," I responded.

"Let me see."

I kicked off my shoes, took of my socks, unfastened my belt, undid my slacks, removed them and threw them over the back of my chair. I stood in the living room in shirt, tie and bikini briefs with a stain the size of a quarter, where my cock had been leaking in them. I removed the briefs and displayed my stiff manhood to Jay.

"Yes, six inches exactly," Jay said, leering at my arousal.

Jay's hands strayed to his belt buckle. He looked like he might be planning to take off his khakis.

"No," I said, "leave your pants on. I'm pretty new to all of this. I don't think I'm ready to confront your penis. I'm a little scared of cock."

"You're doing great," said Jay, "And it's not that big a cock, but alright, that wasn't part of the deal. I said I'd suck you off. Your orgasm will be my reward."

"You can take your shirt off, if you want," I offered in a spirit of compromise. And, Jay did.

Jay grabbed a throw pillow from a chair and tossed it on the floor at my feet. He knelt and again took possession of my genitals - now naked, erect, pink and hairless, except for the trimmed hair on my abdomen that framed the 'tools.' He pulled the head of my penis to his lips and gave it a kiss. Some of my fluid glistened on his lips.

"You taste good, bro" he said.

I felt myself blush at the strange compliment.

Jay must have felt the need to make some preparations, too, because he reached into a pants pocket and pulled out a small bottle of water-based lubricant. He covered the head and shaft of my cock with it; he rubbed some onto my scrotum and perineum; he even reached back and ran one slick finger between my ass cheeks and over my anus. I flinched.

"A little scared of that, too?" he asked, chuckling a little. "Don't worry."

I was pretty certain I was getting my buttons pushed. The apprehension was mild and rather exciting.

For a minute or two, Jay stroked my cock and massaged balls. It was a good hand-job and I put my hands on my ass cheeks and looked at the ceiling, enjoying the sensations. In short order, though, Jay got serious about sucking cock. He cupped my balls with his left hand, wrapped his right hand around the shaft of my cock, and sucked the head of my cock into his mouth, using his tongue expertly on the glans and frenulum. I closed my eyes.

Jay had some skills. The nearest thing that comes to mind is the way a drummer can work a bass drum, a high hat, a snare, cymbals and tom-toms all at once, keeping a basic beat with one or two limbs and playing two or three counter-rhythms with the other limbs. He sucked the head of my cock, swirling with his tongue periodically, his right hand tugged at the shaft of my cock, and his left hand tickled my balls like a ride cymbal and every few measures a finger would stray to my perineum and apply some pressure, like a jazz fill, where my urethra passes through the prostate.

Feeling his own rhythm, Jay started making little moaning noises to me. Mmmm, mmmm, mmmm, ahhh. And, before long, I was moaning along and gently fucking his face.

I opened my eyes and looked down, still a little strangely surprised to see a guy kneeling at my feet with my cock in his mouth. I hadn't really noticed Jay's musculature before. And the voice inside of my head started up: "Cocksucker works out..." A moment later: "Cocksucker really sucks cock!"

Then, I heard my other voice. "Ahhh... Oh, fuck!" And, I felt my cock erupting like a geyser.

Jay pulled my cock out of his mouth. I spurted a load of semen across his right cheek and two more on his bare chest.

"Was it good for you?" Jay asked, grinning. He needn't have bothered.

"I'm weak in the knees," I responded.

"Look at what a mess you made," Jay directed, pointing at the loads on his face and breast. "You know what that means? You are now an 'honorary bisexual.' If we could get you past your cock-phobia, we could promote you to a full-fledged, card-carrying bisexual. I could show you the secret handshake. ... Can I use your shower?"

After his shower, Jay and I had another whisky.

Afterwards, showing himself to the door, he said, "That was great. We should do something like that again some time?"

"Um, maybe, yeah, sure!" I told him.