Friday, October 14, 2016

Strokes

"You know what would really get me going?" he asks. Almost sheepishly, reluctantly. I could almost hear the conflict in his voice, afraid to request, afraid to insist on his needs as he's used to subjecting himself to the will of others. The bottom that gives himself wholly to a top. And as the beneficiary of such attention I'm honored to give as much of it back.

We had started from the moment I walked into the door with a soft but frenzied kiss. And try as we might to practice a little restraint to actually introduce ourselves and slice a little civility into the barbaric lust between us, we only came up with half-finished phrases, a dull dinner knife trying to pry apart magnets that splinter into echoes of fragmented conceits.

One thing was clear though. He focused a lot of praise on the objects of his affection to the detriment of his own self, comparables that always left him deficient despite his stunning good looks. Beautiful eyes of various shades that danced and swirled over the iris, drawing you in. Ginger scruff that complemented those eyes. Broad shoulders. Capped with muscle. And triceps that naturally bulge into an inverted U. Dusting of soft fuzz across his muscular chest. Oh, and a magnificent cock that probably more than rivaled my own, bigger in both girth and length even in a semi-aroused state. Basically the quintessence of masculinity and he can't even see it in himself.

So as he sung his praises in me, I did my best not to deflect but to accept his strokes of my ego and I used that energy to send it right back, whispering his name to make him feel it reverberating to his core (yeah, I see you kiddo...), soft strokes along his back, lengthy flicks of the tongue down his back to the mounds of his ass, and using just the feast of hunger as lube - long, deep and insistent strokes of my cock as I fucked him until I shot my load deep inside.

And here I am, spent and panting, the recipient of such affections as he gave himself to me and I haven't given nearly as much back. So when he strikes up the courage to ask me to help him get off, I take it as a sign that I've finally gotten through to him that he deserves just as much attention as he doles out. So I reply, "Yes. I want to know more than anything right now."

"I... uh... would love to have your cock in my mouth right now..."

My cock is glistening with natural juices from our play and topped off with a pearl of cum still oozing from the tip. And I shoved it down his throat for him to nurse as his cock instantly hardened to a stiffness I haven't seen before. As my cock hardens again down his throat, he strokes with an urgency until he sprays us with his load.

And that totally gets me going.

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

I like this story. It speaks to me as someone who has always had trouble saying what would please me -- I've too often been content to let the other(s) set the pace. I've gotten better over the years but I can empathize with this fellow and it must have felt great to speak up, get what he wanted and get off. It reminds me of an experience described in my story, "Times Square Blowjob"

Paul, PS

Bruce Chang said...

I can't begin to describe how his cock shot up hard as hell and how violently he erupted when I stuck my cock back into his mouth. And to think he was gonna deprive me of seeing and feeling that! Hehe.

AJ said...

I'd love to show you some Southern hospitality, & by Southern hospitality I mean fun sexy time.

Bruce Chang said...

That's right, sugar. Y'all sit back and lemme take care of ya!