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This ended my very first naked man-to-man weekend. I knew then that my marriage to a woman, a lesbian at that, had to be ended. Also, if I wished to catch up and make up for lost time, I had to move to an area more friendly to cock suckers. For me this proved to be southern California, where baseball takes a back seat to unabashed man-to-man love. For the next three months, while waiting for a court date for my divorce, Harold and I managed to meet discretely in out-of-town motels at least twice, sometimes as many as four times a week for the mutual release of our balls, never leaving the room, having pizza with anchovies sent in. Even of you don't like anchovies on pizza, if you are a real cum lover, anchovies give it an exquisite flavor enhancement. Try it at least once, and write me if you don't agree. I then confessed my love for him and my wanting to be with him forever, but Harold warned me of making commitments too soon, and that our future in the radical, small mid-western area was extremely doubtful, if not dangerous. Although there was the hazard of possible discovery and getting fired, after hours in the office we often sucked each other off in the john.
After my long awaited divorce, swearing our lifelong love for each other, now nearly able to deep throat him, I tearfully sucked Harold off and kissed him goodbye and moved to the west coast with its gay pride and dikes on bikes, etc. It is comfortable to know that there you will not be ostracized if you admit to liking an even more than occasional cock sucking session. Occasionally is a word with different meanings to many people, but to me it meant, if possible, sucking off a cock before breakfast, one in the afternoon, and one before bed time. An opportunity missed can never be made up, or so it seemed at that time; and, having gotten a late start, I had many years to make up.
Following my years of conventional marriage and almost total abstinence, insofar as cock sucking was concerned, I had more than a little to do to make up for lost time. As far as my being sucked off is concerned, I found that it is impossible to make up fully for lost time, my own balls simply can't make up for the lost years of being straight in a loveless marriage. But on the sucking and swallowing end, the lost time can be made up in short order with willing contributors, which was my exact goal.
I later became familiarly known in the neighborhood as the vacuum cleaner who never wasted a drop! I made it up to the donors, not by always letting them blow me, but by tonguing their sweet bungs and French kissing them with cum in my mouth. Statistically, I was probably "blowing" cocks ten times for every time I was getting "blown." This was just fine with me, as my prime interest was in the cum, and there was little need for me to jack off as a source of my own cum.
Not yet approaching queenhood, but past 30, I found that I had serious competition in my area of delight. Being new to the gay scene, and -except for Harold's one-time exploration with two fingers up my bung -with a virginal asshole, I was hesitant to approach total strangers, some of whom might be plain clothed policemen. My first love, Harold, who had stayed back in the closet in my hometown, came to my rescue by telephone. He knew many of the right people in my new paradise and explained to them my newness in the homosexual scene. His first referral proved to be a tasty experience with the creamiest ball juice, about a seven and a half inch clipped cock, and a twitching fuzzy bung. Following my oral servicing of him and his most casual reciprocation -during which he actually seemed bored with it all -he got me admitted into a small circle of studs some not more than 18 and some about my age. Would you be surprised to know that they were nearly all "immigrants" from the Midwest, just like me. What a loss of manpower for the Midwest!
Harold's friend, Jim (not his real name) also got me invited to a small group that met once a week on Tuesdays for their version of "cordiality," if you get the drift. I was, of course, happy to see some late teeners in the group, as they are able to get it up and shoot with less rest time in between. With one of the members, who couldn't have been over 18, I kept his cock in my mouth after he shot and he didn't even go limp until he had shot again. But those who were even in their late 50's could still produce at least one or two good eruptions each session and they didn't have a hair trigger, which resulted in longer, more satisfying sucking times. Sometimes though while sucking an oldster, you had to wonder if he was ever going to climax before your tongue got worn out. But their long years experience of giving head turned their snake-like tongues into a magician's wand, resulting in more than the usual number of cums for me in an evening. However, as my main interest in their cock was their ball juice, I usually opted for the more vibrant youngsters, some of whom called me Pop or Dad because of the five to ten-year difference in our ages. It hurt my feelings when they sometimes preferred one of their own age and showed little interest in sucking me off or having me blow them and lick their tender, sometimes fuzzy, little pink assholes.
After shedding our clothes and when we were all stripped naked, the group leader introduced each of us by first names only (probably fictitious), and we had a drawing for a number from one to eight. I drew number three, which in this game meant that I would be paired with number four for the first of that night's games. All activities were to take place on the carpeted floor of the room within the sight of all of the others. The leader said that this was a cock sucking only night, and there would be no asshole fucking that session. This was fine with me, as, aside from Harold's twofingering my butt, my hole was still virginal, and I had heard that the first few times of having your asshole drilled with a stiff cock could be more painful than enjoyable.
As the lower number (three) of my pair with number four, I could make any one of three elections: I could have four suck me off first, and I would then reciprocate; I could blow him first, and he would then perform on me; or I could choose to 69. By the rules of the game number four had no choice but to follow my choosing, sort of a temporary love-slave relationship. Being new to the group, I exercised my authority and ordered him to give me a blow job. After a short session of licking my asshole and mouthing my balls he easily deep throated my one-eyed worm. Before he made me cum, he asked if I'd like to taste my own cream, which we could accomplish by his not swallowing all of it and French kissing after my shooting. I had been about to ask him to let me have some of my cum, but it was nice of him to volunteer. I later learned that he expected me to return the favor with a generous quantity of his jism after I blew him, which I swirled around in my mouth before returning it to him.
After number four, it was deuces wild, and I put my arm around the only African American in the group. What they used to say in the service about the blacks being more generously hung than us whites sure proved to be the case with this ebony stud. I don't recall his name, but his ten and half incher will never be forgotten. He had drawn a number lower than mine, so he was my sex slave master and elected to 69. I previously had succeeded in deep throating a six and sometimes even a slender seven incher, but his gigantic Shetlandpony sized dong made me gag when I attempted to put it down my throat. There was not too much trouble in swallowing his load, as he had just cum a few minutes before, and his jism, while still ample, was eagerly consumed by me without any waste. I got my first African American jism, which we later mixed by French kissing for the longest time. Even when blindfolded I can still always tell if the cream comes from one of our dark brothers. Not only is the quantity somewhat greater, but the viscosity and taste are more nutty and fruit like, possibly a little saltier. With practice, I was also able to deep throat their somewhat longer and larger black dongs, permitting them to shoot directly into my stomach.
I learned that each meeting of the group always ended with a daisy chain in which all eight naked men laid on the carpet and sucked off the one in front of him, arranging, if possible, so that each got a different cock or bung from that which he may have had earlier in the evening. I may have lost count, but I think that I was rewarded with at least four deposits of ball juice that first meeting night. Fair is fair, and I must have given up the same number of batches. This new town was proving to be most interesting indeed.
My preference continued to be the sucking of cocks, more than getting sucked off myself. Both were good, of course, but it was turning out that I was more of a "suckor" than a "suckee." I had many friends who didn't object to just getting blown, sometimes daily, if I would share their juice with a follow-up kiss and some tongue twirling. Sometimes when I would call on a friend by appointment in my busy daily cock-sucking route, he would have invited some unscheduled friends who also wanted to be serviced with my cunt-like mouth. If my scheduling for the day permitted the additional time before my next appointment (for I never liked to hurry a blow job), I'd give them all a blow job that they would remember for quite a while. Sometimes I'd go from cock to cock in the room, keeping them all erect for a long time, like playing musical chairs, before I let them unload their jism in my mouth.
The thought of there being either too many cocks or too much cum in my belly never occurred to me. Although I've never seen a chemical analysis, even in the great quantities that I was consuming, cum must not be fattening, as I never gained any weight from my consumption of this fragrant nectar, and, gratefully, I've never had any upset stomach or digestive tract problems. Wouldn't it be funny if they someday discover that cum is nature's cure for ulcers and vitamin and mineral deficiency!
I now found that to be completely accepted in the gay world, I would have to become part of the anal action set. As a dedicated cock sucker and butt licker, I didn't believe that I would ever be interested in fucking an asshole or in having mine reamed. But my friends said that I'd nevertheless have to get used to the pecker plunging of my bung, i.e., anal intercourse they called it. Aside from Harold's tender twofingering years ago, no foreign object had ever been up butt hole. Imagining some nine incher up my butt was beyond my imagination; and, if you want to know the truth, it actually scared the hell out of me. So my first job was to find the smallest, shortest, thinnest available cock for the initiation and training of my still virginal love canal.
I don't think that the person of my choosing was complimented when I told him why I had chosen him, but he agreed to break me in to the anal arts. Even with a mammoth amount of lubrication in and out of my hole and generously spread on his little dick, with one-, two-, and even three-finger explorations into my bud, the slipping in of his little auger the first time, believe you me, was not my idea of fun. When I complained that it hurt, he just slapped my ass cheeks with both open palms until they were red as a beet, like a jockey on a nag, and said to keep quiet or he would rape me then and there and make me suck off his shitty dick. It turns out that he was being as gentle as possible and he didn't attempt to put it all the way in until the insertion of his cock head had fully relaxed my opening. After a few minutes he gently slid the rest of his rod in all the way to his balls and started gentle in-and-out fucking motions, stimulating my prostate gland.
Having relaxed after the complete insertion of his cock, with his balls resting between my cheeks, "This is fun," I told my ass fucker. "Why don't you start longer in and out motions until you cum up my innards in a blast." This was actually becoming joyful, and I wondered why I hadn't gotten into this butt fucking game years before. For a few more training days I got him to ride me as rough as possible with his tiny little pecker. The slapping sound of his nuts on my ass cheeks was a real turn on. I was now no longer cherry in any of my body cavities. Years after this initiation, if I had as many cocks sticking out of me as now have been stuck in me, I'd look like a porcupine!
I had always thought that butt fucking was done with the fuckee bent over with his ass in the air like a bitch dog in heat, but I learned through my initiator that it was far better with me to be on my back and my legs up and over the fucker's shoulders. That way he slips his dong in my bung under my balls until, when all the way in, our ball sacs can jostle each other's. Also this way we can even French kiss while he is deep within my bowels, and I can jack off or he can give me a hand job at the same time. Why didn't someone think of this before? While I don't get to slurp up his cum that way, he gets to lick my belly clean of my cream. Whenever any of my lovers wore a condom to fuck my asshole, I could slip it off after he pulled out and drink his cum from the rubber-a substantial bonus!
Needless to say, I have now graduated into taking even the nine and ten inchers up my shute, and am now the recipient of many invitations where my love hole is put to good use. I've even been up a few bungs myself, but truthfully I'd rather be fucked than to fuck, and cock sucking with the swallowing of the juice continues to rate, for me at least, far over either being fucked or sucked. Whenever possible I ask my date not to come in my ass, so that when he pulls out I can suck him off. This is, of course, on account of my love of the jism. If only I could manufacture and bottle this stuff, it would beat out that most popular soft drink hands down. However, I must say that ball juice has to be enjoyed more or less immediately fresh upon delivery, as even a short exposure to air seems to oxidize it, rapidly destroying its delicate flavor. Have you had your break today?
In the days of HIV, it now seemed to me necessary to settle down to a lifetime mate rather than playing around at various clubs and the notorious bathes. With only one partner for the rest of my life, we also could fuck each other's love holes and suck each other off without the need of using a condom. While I can certainly feel a cock with a condom on cumming inside me and have done so many, many times, there is no feeling like knowing that the cream is actually shooting up high and will soon be oozing out between the cheeks of my ass. Also, having sucked many condomcovered cocks, I can assure you all that cream shot directly into the throat and stomach is not only fresher but is tastier than that retrieved and slurped later, cold from a rubber with its latex-like flavor.
Whichever way you are doing it now, try the other way and see if I'm not right. Doesn't it just make good sense? I'm certainly not advocating risky sex, but when you know that you have a clean partner, why not enjoy his love hole as nature surely intended? Why not consider mating with him for a long-term or lifetime loving relationship? Don't let a good one get away, for they are scarce.
It was now five years in my new-found liberal area, where you didn't have to be straight to survive. My first gay love mate, from my Midwestern hometown, Harold, who had sworn to be faithful to me, had finally either come out of the closet back there or, perhaps, had been "outed." In any event, he found it uncomfortable to remain in such a small-minded homeopathic town and showed up at my apartment door for an unannounced visit to southern California. I answered the door fresh from my shower and stark naked underneath my wrap around terry cloth robe. I couldn't have been more happily surprised. Harold brought back memories of our first-time coupling by grabbing me and giving me the wettest of wet kisses. I playfully dragged him into my apartment out of the sight of my nosey neighbors. I dropped my robe, and proceeded to strip him naked. He dropped to his knees to renew acquaintances with my now erect cock and cream-filled balls.
I reminded him of our tent weekend and its relative discomforts and suggested that we adjourn to my king-size bed. My apartment is on the second floor, and I just hope that the energetic romping on my bed didn't cause the neighbors below any disturbing ceiling noises. But, to hell with them, nothing was going to tone down my greeting of my first-love, Harold, and the greeting I received from him. I even volunteered my newly found ability to take a fucking from him up my ass. But for the initial night of our reunion we contented ourselves with mutual cock and ball sucking, asshole lapping, and 69ing. He was amazed at my ability to easily deep throat his giant cock and the hyper activity of my tongue, all skills learned in the past few years.
You will recall that I had decided to find a lifetime soul mate that we could both be faithful to. Harold was my perfect choice, and I could now teach him some of the tricks that I had not only learned, but perfected in my stint in my fruit-filled area. He had not given it much thought while back home, because a gay marriage would not have been accepted in that staid community. The very next morning after his surprise arrival, while both of us were naked, following my morning blow job on Harold's cock, I was seated on the floor in front of Harold in the easy chair. His cock was now relaxed but always inviting me to suck it again. I teased it with my hands and gentle blowing of air in its direction. His pubic hairs wafted in the breeze. Heaven on earth. No two people could be happier. This was time to demonstrate to him that I had become a very accomplished cock sucker in the past five years. But first I just had to ask him the most important question of our lives: "Harold, I love you more than life. Will you marry me?" A very emotional person, he immediately began to weep alligator tears of joy and said that I had just made him the happiest person in the world. We then stood up, our cocks rubbing together, and kissed, with our active tongues in each other's mouths.
Harold then suggested that we seal our engagement by going back to bed and 69ing. I told him that I wasn't too much for being the top guy for ass fucking, but that I'd simply love having him fuck my love hole while he jacked me off. This became a rather common routine, that is, after we first blew each other, Harold would put me on my back, lift my legs over his broad shoulders and fuck me, always the gentle giant up to the point of shooting off, when he became a veritable tiger in his cock plunges while depositing his load. Although he always enjoyed having me lap his hole and probe it with my tongue, I actually only fucked his asshole no more than once or twice. This was not because of unavailability of his love hole or his lack of desire to please me to the very utmost, but simply my preference for being the suckor rather than the suckee and being his fuckee rather than being his fuckor. Harold never made fun of me, but always respected my sexual preferences. Life together with my lover could not get any better than this. Actually, I'd always been in love with Harold since I first sucked off his cock for its juice on our long ago weekend camping trip.
After our marriage -actually only a blessing by a local liberal pastor attended by a few close friends -there were the domestic duties to be divvied up between us. As husbands fuck and wives get fucked, in my case both in the mouth and in the asshole, and this was our mutual preference, we decided that Harold was to be the husband in our new loving relationship, and I was to be the wife. I had even chosen to take his surname, and with our close friends I was proudly known as "Mrs. Harold Black" (again a fictitious name). "Jack" became "Jackie."