Letter to the Editor

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Letter to the Editor

Hi, guys! I am one of the itinerant scribblers at Liteotica. My efforts were a small hobby that became a rewarding pastime, when my little favorites seemed to resonate with readers who liked what I did. What is that, you ask sweetly?

"I like to suck cock. It took me a while to figure out, there was that freaking plague, I was trying to live a normal life, and there was something missing. Sex with the wife was accessible but not enough and strangely not satisfying. Getting into something with another woman involved too much luggage and conflict with social and familiar issues. Sex with men didn't seem to carry the same weight, had little of the same species interconnection, and for a while was the easy answer to occasional need. Which grew.

It was cool. It didn't take much time in the act, even if the planning was a little awkward. I enjoyed exploring that world at that time. It was pre-internet and used mail and payphones to connect. It was a little edgy. But after getting together with a few guys and understanding what the options were, I discovered it wasn't quite as much the "having" sex as "giving" the act. I discovered the utter and complete delight of being penetrated by a hard cock, pinned down and completely subject to the will of a man stroking his life into me. And it got quite natural in a way that must be akin to women who enjoy that role naturally. But I thought one of the things I enjoyed the most was sucking a man's cock to completion. In a way it was the same submission as being fucked, but for me, anyway, it was the casual nature of it, sometimes still clothed and casual, sometimes a gesture of general submission to everything with my eyes wide open, looking up at his as he rolled them back about to ejaculate in my mouth. Those were the most fun, in brief encounters, sometimes done in unusual places with the smell of a men's room rich with cleaning odors, or in the front seat of a work truck. That is where I found my freedom and joy in what I could give at my discretion and to slake my need my need to give pleasure.

So, I found out being a cock-sucking slut was really who I was. And that went along with a desire to share that slow descent into whoredom, the delight in abasement. I imagine there are other guys who find they like the same thing. I had written a story about one of the first guys I wanted to have sex with, a gay young black guy I met in college and a sort of template for the ones I would sometimes get to worship later, sometimes anonymously in a warm sloppy ball of frantic submission, grateful for the chance to service a man of color. One guy had the single largest cock I have ever seen, and on parting, the warmth of him still coating my mouth, running my tongue up a softening but still impressive shaft to clean him up. I enjoyed letting them work out whatever phantasy they needed into my warm mouth and white face. Anyway, I think that was the one I got this note about. I don't know much about him except we obviously had a lot in common and he could write a pretty hot paragraph. Here it is, with what prompted my answer to his 'Letter to the Editor:"

I liked your story, especially because as you write, you sound so much like me. I love pleasing a man. That is my pleasure.

I love the feel of hard, yet soft on the outside cock in my mouth, and as you described, the acrid, chlorine taste of cum, swapping it with him. I love the feel of cum too, the smell of cum. You wrote about the smell of a man's crotch. The muskiness arouses me so; his urgency, using me to take his cum, make him feel good.

You covered it all, the chest, hairs, muscles, taking control, using me.

Thanks. I look forward to reading any more of your stories.

Will

+++++++++++++++++

Me too, Will.

The reward of the ejaculation is almost a sacred moment, when the bold thrusting against the tongue and palate turns suddenly supersensitive, and the man you have just pleased becomes as meek as a babe, and we change from a brisk suction to a tender suckle.

I much prefer my lovers to cum in my mouth than in my ass, but times being what they are, the condom catches it nicely, and I will sometimes slide the filled rubber off the softening cock, and raise it above my open mouth, turning it over so that the load cascades down onto my tongue, cooling as it drops.

But the best thing is a big cummy kiss when it is all over, tongues sliding over the cum still warm and shared between us.

I find that when the fever is on me I don't really care if I cum or not, so long as the man I am pleasing does. I had a long-term relationship with a wonderful man who lived on the way from my house to my job. He had a regular lover, as I when still married and eager for an occasional chance to be what I began to realize I really was. So there were issues on both sides regarding frequency, but I made a point of dropping things to satisfy him when he needed it and it was useful to get together a few times a month just for the sex of it. It became a nice little ritual. Speedy, not much fuss. I would simply pull in the driveway of his house, walk up to the door and give it a wrap and be doing something intimate for him a about ten minutes.

He was wiry in build, like a mid-weight wrestler, and we would wrestle a lot. It would start sort of aggressive- I wrestled in high school-Somehow it always wound up that he would be straddling my chest, his cock pointed right at my mouth. He had the most amazing dick I ever got to share regularly: it was bulbous at the tip, massive almost, and got more slender as it approached his firm stomach carpeted with wiry hair.

He would scoot forward so that I could take both of his balls in my mouth and suckle them gently, caressing each one in turn with a firm but gentle tongue. I liked the way his cock would ride back and forth across my nose and he would smile down at me in his dominance of my being, his cock right before my eyes, a warm gaudy presence. It was hypnotic enough that when I could welcome him into my mouth that smooth urgent surface of his hard need within me, soon to shoot his seed into me. The smell of him was absolutely the most entrancing part of serving him. Warm, freshly showered but with a distinct musk. And the taste of his seed, rich on my lips and coating my tongue and throat in acrid warm man.

He was definitely the dominant one on our relationship, but he still liked to suck cock, even if I insisted his pleasure always came first. One afternoon we had wrestled on his large bed, and the sun cast brilliant light on our naked bodies, fair on olive skin.

"I want to suck you," he said. "I want to suck you good."

I nodded in anticipation. Then I said "But if you are going to do it, you need to put your soft cock back in my mouth where it belongs."

He obliged by turning around and I suckled on him gently until I erupted in his mouth, and he was considerate enough to save most of the load on his tongue. When he pulled off me and turned around, our lips met and our tongues snaked out to taste the man-slime that had so recently been in my balls, and now was in both our stomachs, mine mixing with his in our mouths, tongues gently probing each other to taste our shared essence.

And gawd, the smell of the sex...the pheromes, the sweat of love and fresh aroma of distant soap and the wiry sense of his manly hair shared so intimately with the scent of cum.

If you couldn't tell, I am a cum-slut, too. There is a satisfaction from it that came on me over years. My favorite time was as a freshly single male able to simply go out and see who I could make as happy as I get them in their ways, all sharing that moment when they possess me with their seed. Once I found the object of my desire was giving them the fruit of theirs, a world opened. In that burst of freedom and energy I could be whatever I chose.

I wasn't a complete slut, but in that new period of energy and libido I found giving pleasure to be the essence of mine. I was at the only gay bar in town one afternoon, and wound up talking with a burly working guy who had his hard hat on the stool between us.

I was horny or I wouldn't have been there. We got to talking about shit at the bar and after a little back and forth, offered him a blow job. He had a company vehicle just down the block, and I offered to walk down to it with him if he had any interest in a soft but eager mouth to get him on his way. We paid up and walked down the block together. He unlocked the passenger door and opened it, gesturing me in. I obeyed and climbed in as he went around to the driver's side and slipped in, unzipping himself as he closed the door with a slam. No kissing in this one. I leaned forward to his open fly and gently fished around the boxers crumpled under his jeans to produce a rapidly hardening cock, average sized but plump and assertive. I unbuttoned his jeans so I could have some time to work and got to my job.

This was plain and unvarnished sex. Me giving it and him squirming beneath my rapid up and down movement, steadying my work with a hand on each of his muscular thighs. It was a delicious feeling of abasement. He had a ripe odor, not a freshly showered one. It was pungent enough to make me harden inside my slacks. Seeing a man in need, offering my services and having his manhood deep in my throat in a matter of minutes. My efforts seemed to please him, though he did not speak a word. Them his hands came together, holding my ears and beginning to drive into me with an urgency that was his alone, driving to his completion without a care for the flesh vessel serving his need. He grunted after a deep thrust all the way to the back of my throat and shot three nice warm ropes of cum before he began to trickle. I obediently softly licked him clean, but when he was satisfied he pushed me aside and I rose to a sitting posture, his seed slippery and warm on my lips. I looked at him with that look I get after making a man ejaculate. He didn't say anything. He gestured toward the door. I was dismissed without thanks. A whore. I got out and clear of the door as he began to back up. I barely got my door closed as he turned his wheels to get out, and safely pulled out into the traffic lane. I stood there in my business clothes and smoothed the wrinkles as he accelerated away. Him sperm was still in around my lips and puddled on my tongue.

I have to say it was a moment in life that approached some of the most memorable. Meet a guy in a bar and suck him off in his truck without a simple thank-you for the work of my tongue on his hardness and being the deposit of his need. And left on a sidewalk in town. Looking at a short-time lover driving away without a fucking care for my intimacy. I felt great. There was no way to express my thanks for letting me express my need to be nothing more than a receptacle for a momentary but assertive need. And dismissed when his use for me was done.

I walked slowly back up to the bar, thinking another drink would be good, and the possibility that there might be another man I could get hard and wash the taste down. Still tasting the man I had just served.

That was a great fucking decade. I would not have changed becoming what I was meant to be for anything! There is something really fun about pleasing men, and there are all sorts of ways to do it! Write me a litter and maybe I can go into more detail....

Thanks for writing!

Vicky Malacca