Content advisory
:
This story contains references to enema play. While I've tried to tone down the details for readers for whom the topic may be squicky, I had to include it, since this was the actual setting of my defloration. I've tried to avoid the gory details as much as possible and focus on the main event and the profound insight it gave me into who I am. That's why it's in Gay Male instead of Fetish. If you choose to bypass this story, I'll understand. However, I urge you to give it a read: you'll learn more about my own background and, I hope, enjoy the story.
Reader's Note
: Note that the Soma's Journey series isn't chronological. The events of this story took place before several of the others.
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I was browsing Craigslist, looking for a man to tie me up and feed me his cock, when I ran across something completely different. A man in town was looking for someone for enema play with light bondage included. To this point, my entire experience with enema play had been given myself a Fleet prior to inserting a butt plug. I had never cared for bathroom sports, so my initial thought was a hard no. However, I was in a kinky mood and thought it might be an interesting experience (and would clean me out inside), so I replied to his post.
I told him I was new to this, but that I enjoyed bondage play. At the time, I was relatively inexperienced with playing with men. I told him that, and that I had yet to be taken by a man. That seemed to pique his interest and he invited me to a play party he and his friend, both dominant types, were hosting at his apartment in two days. There would be two other men, both submissive, to join in the fun.
I told him I would love to experience enema play, as long as it was safe. He assured me they played safe and that there would be nothing in my enemas except warm water and some salt. He sent me a photo, showing a nice looking man of about 45. Given he was an investment broker living in a newly gentrified area of town, I felt reassured and told him I'd be happy to be part of the party. I had enough time off accrued that I could take the afternoon off with no problem.
He lived in an old mill building, located near the downtown area, that had been converted into loft apartments. I took the elevator to his apartment and was greeted by his friend, who also appeared to be in his forties. He was stocky, but with the look of someone who hit the gym, as his leather chest harness emphasized. He had the look of a business professional, that is, if business professionals wore jock straps, a chest harness and nothing else.
"I'm glad you could come. You're the first; the others will be here soon. Take off your clothes and put them on the sofa. We'll be playing upstairs."
"Yes, Sir," I said, a bit nervously.
I took off my clothes slowly, embarrassed by my own middle age spread and lack of muscular development. When I was naked, I stood in front of him while he walked around me. He tweaked my nipples and gave my cock a rub, which caused it to begin to rise.
He escorted me up the stairs to the loft area, where I saw my host hanging classic red enema bags from IV poles. The next thing I saw was a large king bed. It was covered with plastic sheets and had a headboard and footboard made up of a set of wooden slats. My host was wearing the same chest harness and jock strap as his friend and had the look of someone used to wearing leather. I felt out of place, but his smile disarmed me.
"Since you're here early, you can suck on my cock. Lay down on the bed with your face at this end," he ordered, pointing to a spot to the right of the footboard.
There were two leather cuffs attached to the slats. I lay on my stomach and he attached the cuffs to my wrists. He put a pillow on the top rail.
"Hang you head over this and suck on this," he told me, pulling down his jock strap and showing me a medium size cock nestled in a smooth crotch. I was surprised to find he shaved his crotch, but I didn't mind in the least.
I licked my lips and opened my mouth. He inserted his half erect cock and I started licking on it, feeling it fill my mouth. It grew longer, but wasn't overly thick. I settled into a steady sucking motion while running my tongue over it. Being restrained as I was, I couldn't bob my head much and had to rely on him to supply the motion. He moved in and out carefully, not choking me and letting me taste his precum.
At one point, he turned to his friend. "He's got a good mouth. Want to try it?"
"No, thanks," he replied, in a bored voice.
I was a bit miffed at that, as I was hoping to taste his cock. Besides, it sounded almost insulting that he didn't want me to suck on him. After all, everyone wants to be sucked, right? As I said, I was still inexperienced with men and had a lot to learn about tops.
He took his cock out of my mouth. "That's enough for now. I don't want to blow my load too soon."
He moved behind me and I felt his hand exploring my ass. He ran his finger over my ass crack and watched me shiver when he rubbed my bud.
"Your ass is cherry, you said?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Why is that?"
"To tell you the truth, I'm very tight and I've been afraid someone would tear me and make me bleed. That would be difficult to explain to my doctor."
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We interrupt this story for a bit of history.
The full truth was a bit more complicated. From early on, I had a strong dislike for my own bodily fluids. While, like most boys, I had learned to write my name in the snow with yellow ink, I had an aversion to getting any urine on my body. And while I had, at long last learned to enjoy the taste of a man's precum and cum, I could only eat it if he ejaculated directly into my mouth.
The thought of a man's cum on my face or chest filled me with disgust. And, to this day, I can't eat my own cum, no matter how much I try. Perhaps if I had the flexibility to suck my own cock, I'd be able to manage it. But, alas, I didn't have the body shape for that. Even my favorite Domme was unable to get me to lick it off my hand.
The few times I had put something in my ass, from the first pencil to my first butt plug, it had come out with that distinct smell and telltale brown streaks. I had managed to avoid throwing up, but I was mortified at the prospect of a play partner encountering the same foulness.