He Did it in My Mouth

Introduction:
… first time, on my knees, dim basement, older man.

I was quite young when I learned that the word “cocksucker” was more than just a word and that some males used the word to provoke others. And, I became excited when I learned that some males actually did suck on cocks. I became dizzy from the instant cravings that ignited within me. It was all I could think about for days even though I had fears of a being called a “queer” or “homo”, etc. I fantasized nightly to thoughts of hard cocks in my mouth but, being shy and lacking confidence, I wondered if I would ever actually do it.

In those youthful days, I spent a lot of time at a place called The Basement, a subterranean hangout beneath the local Elk’s club. Although they had moved to a newer location, they had not yet sold the building and that enabled parents and retired people to host k**s after school, especially those who were unsupervised, like me.

I wasn’t accustomed to supervision but I liked The Basement. It was climate-controlled and it had k**s that I liked, mostly girls because it was easy for me to relate to them unlike boys who were far too aggressive and confrontational.

I became good friends with a girl named Taylor who didn’t seem to mind that I was a bit scrawny and not very guy-like. Her grandfather Cal was an occasional overseer and he was also friendly. He talked to me a more than others which made me feel good.

A couple of weeks after meeting him, I left The Basement early and he stopped me and said he wanted to talk. I don’t remember much of what we talked about but I do remember him saying that I was a “very pretty boy” and I liked that because each time before when I had been mistaken for a girl, it had excited me. I thanked Cal and smiled and felt warmth and pride.

When I got home, I spent the night trying to sort the myriad of crazy notions that collided within me. I liked that he had approved of me and I liked the “pretty boy” comment but I was uncertain about what it all meant.

The next time we talked, he said a phrase that affected me so much that I can still see his face and hear the inflection in his voice. He said, “I like you Brynn. And, I like your very pretty little mouth.” My knees trembled. Those words . . . that phrase–&#034pretty little mouth&#034–it drove me crazy.

I don’t remember what I might have said in response but I’m sure I smiled because smiling came easy to me. I wondered if a smile would cause him to seek more and, if he did, what would I do? What if . . . What if he wanted me to, you know, suck . . . suck on his cock? But, my imaginations ceased when one word popped into my head like a brick shattering glass. What word?

Taylor!

Cal was Taylor’s grandfather! How could I possibly fantasize about sucking on her grandfather’s . . . &#034thing&#034 . . . his . . . penis? She was my friend! How would I ever face her and how much would she hate me if I ever did that and she found out?

I had always been susceptible to attention from older and heavier men like him because those traits made them seem more authoritative, powerful, wise, etc. It seemed to me that the greater the differences between a those dominant traits and my weak/submissive ones, the more likely we seem to be drawn to each other, and it was clear to me that I was very much attracted to Cal.

The following week, on a day when Taylor was not at The Basement, Cal was the person responsible for closing and locking the facility at the end of the day. Just before he did those things, he approached me and whispered, “Stay. Just for a while. I want to talk with you.”

I nodded. I didn’t sense alarm or danger. He locked the doors and turned off most of the lights. We were in a recreation room with two pool tables and before long, he ran his fingers through my longish hair and added that he very much liked “boys who are like girls.” The more he talked, the more it excited me and I liked his attention and I grew more compliant.

Not long after, he asked if I had ever seen “a grown man’s penis” (words that have stuck with me since). I was shocked and quickly shook my head. He asked if I wanted to but being shy and confused I could only manage to shrug. Anything more would have seemed like an admission that I was queer. I mean, I WAS queer but I didn’t want anyone else knowing.

Yet, besides a brain full of those spinning uncertainties, I had other problems.

I had grown to like Cal and I really wanted to please him so he would like me also. Even though he was a horny older man who was talking about sexual things, he was a nice older man and I wanted his attention. A second problem was that I had been having sexual fantasies of being on my knees and sucking on his cock and hearing him tell me how good I was and how much he liked me.

“I’m glad you stayed, Brynn,” he said. &#034Nothing is going to happen that you don’t like because if you don’t like something, then we’ll stop.” He said that he suspected I might have a desire to suck but he wouldn’t expect me to do that, but he did want me to see his cock.

With him softly suggesting and his hand nudging my shoulder, I followed his urging until I was on my knees. He told me to hold still and to watch and he would go slow. He moved in front of me and pressed his fingers against an area of his pants that revealed that tube-like appendage. He told me to look at it so I would have some idea of its size. I didn’t tell my eyes to stare at his crotch, but they did and they couldn’t move away.

His fingers went to his zipper and slowly tugged. He reached through the opening and told me to relax and to keep watching and to not be nervous. I trembled and hoped it wasn’t noticed. He asked if I was ready. I don’t think I responded.

He asked again, “Are you ready, Brynn? If you want to see it, then you have to let me know. Do you want to see it?” When I didn’t move, I felt his hand on my head moving it to nod. My head might have begun nodding on its own, maybe because, truth be known, there was a cocksucker in me that was desperate to see that man’s cock.

And then . . .

He pulled it out. It popped up! It was one foot away and pointing at my face. I was . . . I was . . . stunned!

His cock was . . . right in my face! The first grown man’s cock I had ever seen. Just one foot away! I couldn’t believe it! I was on my knees and a grown man was exposing himself to me and I was . . . I was staring,–not just looking but–staring . . . at his erect cock, the fully matured cock of a grown man! It was used for sex, an adult thing. I wanted to run but the queer in me wouldn’t move and refused to miss an opportunity that had been a long time coming and might never come again.

“You like that, Brynn?”

I remember my eyes being wide and blinking in awe. I remember my lips being dry from breath that huffed and hissed more than it should. His words were calm and kind and endearing. He liked to me. He was an adult who noticed me and talked to me. I wanted to make him happy. I wanted so much to make him happy!

But his cock . . . It was scary although it was sexy; it was dangerous but it turned me on; it was adult yet it liked me. In one instance, I wanted to run because I was afraid of it and in the next, I wanted to push my mouth forward suck until I could not suck any longer.

“Just look, Brynn. You don’t have to do anything.” Fingers of his right hand moved slowly on his rock hard cock. He stepped a half-foot forward. “That is, unless you want to.”

I gasped with those last four words. I wanted to feel its hardness with my fingers and with my lips and especially with the inside my overly-sensitive mouth. I wanted to . . . to suck . . . I wanted to suck on it. But, another place in my head began screaming, “No! No! No! You don’t want to suck on it. You are not a faggot! You are not a cocksucker!”

Cal stepped forward again and his cock was four inches from the tip of my nose. I could see every outline, every ridge, every change in coloration and I could smell it. Smell it. A man smell. A sex smell. It seemed so beautiful but so forbidden. It was hard and I sensed its need but . . . but I wasn’t a cocksucker! I had never done it and I didn’t know how and I was too young and my mouth too virgin.

And – And – this was Taylor’s grandfather!

Then I realized that he hadn’t told me to suck. The battle of sucking or not sucking was all within me!

He turned sideways and I was very much in awe with how long it looked. It was straight like a pole because of its great hardness and it looked like a baton sticking straight out. In reality, I suspect it was seven inches with normal thickness, but to me, it looked mammoth.

His fingers slowly stroked it near the base. I caught a glimpse of his balls for the first time and I trembled. They looked so nasty and dirty and disgusting and yet, for some reason, I couldn’t stop looking at them and I wanted to please them and I wanted to kiss them and taste them.

Then, he did one thing that changed everything. At that time, I didn’t understand why I went along with it but now that I have more knowledge, I realize that my compliance came from being a sexual submissive.

He was facing me and very close. He put one hand on the back of my head. As soon as I felt it, a balloon within me popped and the air of resistance escaped my being. It was as if his hand had punctured my willpower. It was as if I had wilted and the ability to decide things for myself had vanished.

“Smell it, Brynn,” he commanded. “Just smell it. Know what a real man smells like.”

I had already done that and I already knew that the scent was intoxicating and everlasting. Right now–today–I can still smell that man’s dick in that basement, in the dim of night.

After a short time, he said, “You can suck on it, Brynn. Don’t be afraid. We’re alone. No one will know. See what it’s like. Now is your chance. Who knows if we’ll ever be here again?”

That last part tugged on me. What if he was right? What if I would never get another chance to taste cock or feel its hardness or actually suck or another chance to make Cal like me, to really like me?

But, of all things, it was his hand still resting on my head that influenced me the most. He wasn’t gripping my head although I could feel the strength of his manly fingers. I surrendered to the suggestion of their control and when they stroked my hair and he called me a good boy and a pretty boy, I fell into compliance.

“Go ahead, Brynn. Just try it. Just a couple of minutes. See if you like it.”

My eyes were glued to it. Then . . . Then . . . I felt it! He put his hard cock against my soft lips! That “thing” . . . It was . . . It was against my lips! He told me to just let it happen. It felt like velvety rubber. I knew there was no turning back, no getting away. I doubted very much that I had any amount of willpower remaining.

He pushed and my lips relented. My mouth began to open and his cock began to push in. In that moment, I had a sudden and significant revelation: HE was pushing it into me. He was pushing it into my mouth and that meant that I was NOT responsible for what was happening, he was! I wasn’t really a cocksucker but rather, he was pushing his penis into my mouth. Therefore, I could take his cock into my mouth and be completely innocent!

I remember his groan and then I felt … I felt Cal’s fully mature erection spreading my mouth and I felt it crawling into me. “Yeah k** . . . ahhhhh . . . Yeah, suck.&#034 I didn’t give my mouth permission to suck on Cal’s hard-on but it was doing it anyway. &#034Yeah, just like that. Oh yeah, you know how to suck. Suck Brynn!”

I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to see what I was doing, but more than that, the feel of his hardness in my very sensitive mouth was driving me crazy and I wanted to feel it all! I was in a dreamy state and just sucking and sucking. I began permitting myself to be a cocksucker and to love an experience I might not ever have again.

It felt like I was nursing — nursing on it — nursing on Cal’s penis. Nursing on it like a nipple. Like some kind of sex nipple. Suckle. Yes, that was it. Suckling, like a little lamb. Soft suckling on Cal’s sex nipple.

And then, he began telling me I was a good cocksucker and that word–&#034cocksucker&#034–spurred a burst of sexual stimulation through me. The very word I didn’t want anyone else to call me was the very word I wanted to hear most from Cal. He told me how good it felt and how much he liked me. I was flattered. I had earned the word “cocksucker” from him. I wanted to do it even better and make him happy and please him and I wanted to be the best cocksucker that ever lived, just for him!

Then, he moved two feet forward without ever taking his cock from my mouth. I felt the wood-paneled wall against my back and the back of my head as he stepped closer and held my head with his hands. He pinned my head to the wall and his hips –they began – they began moving. He was – he – he was fucking me! He was fucking my mouth! I was a scrawny school-aged boy and he was a gray-haired man with a belly and . . . he was . . . fucking me . . . my mouth . . . in the late of night . . . in a darkened room . . . in the basement of an after-school recreation center.

And . . . And, I was letting him! I stayed still and wanted him to keep fucking me. It was as if my mouth was a pussy and like I was his girl. He was having sex in my mouth like other men did it in girl’s pussies.

It felt good. His hardness. Feeling the sexual need that throbbed in his shaft. It was adult sex and it made me feel adult. An adult was having sex with me and I was giving him pleasure like other men found in girls and it all excited me so much..

He went slow. He groaned. He called me a cocksucker many times—not to be derisive (I don’t think)—but it seemed more that he loved the word or maybe he thought that I was good at it, especially for my first time doing it.

He began going faster and his fingers pressed my head and held it in place while I cooperated so he could fuck me just like he wanted. I was surrendered to it and excited and I wanted it to last for hours. I mean, if I was only going to do it that one time, then why not be the very best and give him the best “mouth” I possibly could? I would have done anything with my mouth that day to get his approval.

His words were broken by his lust and the fucking of my mouth but he manged to ask if I knew about semen. I tried to nod. He asked if I had ever seen it and I shook my head, or tried to. He fucked me very slowly while he explained that it was a safe, that it shot out in spurts, that he would be extremely pleased if I would let him “ejaculate” (his word) in my mouth and when he was ready to cum that I should push my tongue to the back of my mouth so it would close off my throat and keep the spurts from gagging me.

I felt practically insane with the idea of it. So nasty. So wicked. Letting a grown man ejaculate in my mouth. The thought was overpowering yet I was determined I would let him do it in me—fully!—and I would take it all and, if I did that, he would tell me I was the best cocksucker ever and I wanted that so much.

He began fucking my mouth a little faster, then a little faster. His hands gave increasing pressure on my head and I held still. I whimpered at times but otherwise I was silent and just wanted to let him fuck me without distracting him in any way. He went faster, the slowed down and then repeated that pattern until I suppose 15 minutes had passed. Then, he maintained a fast pace until he cried out, “Now! Now! Get Ready. Your tongue—all the way back. Ahhhhhhhh!”

Then — then it happened.

His cock quaked and his body shook and he groaned and he moaned and then ———- I felt it! He began cumming—in me; in my mouth. He was jizzing – yes, that was the word. He was jizzing in my mouth! And, I was letting him! That seemed terribly queer to just hold still and let a grown man ejaculate in my mouth, but I wanted him to. The stuff was gooey-awful but it felt sexy and I received it with gladness. It was thick and disgusting and hard to deal with but I held in place and let him do it because I knew how much he was getting out of doing it in my mouth.

I have no idea how long his orgasm lasted nor how many times he spurted into me. I do know that when he was done, it was hard for me to hold that nasty stuff in my mouth. When he pulled his cock out of me, I spat it to the floor. He might have laughed but when I finally looked up at him, he was gentile. He asked if I was okay and he told me I did good. I smiled without realizing there were streamers of his semen stretched between my lips.

“You sure you never done that before?&#034 he asked. I shook my head and wiped my mouth. “Well you got some mouth on you. Damn. I’ve had cocksuckers but that is one helluva smooth, soft mouth. Yeah k**. For a first time, yeah.”

He drove me home. I didn’t say much. My head was spinning and confused. I lay in bed remembering what had happened and how wonderful it was and how I could still taste that man’s semen in my mouth but I still struggled with being known as a cocksucker.
I found mental refuge in the notion that he had caused it to happen and he had used my mouth and that meant I was not responsible. But, I knew that somewhere in me, I was the craving to be a cocksucker.

That conflict of those arguments was hard for me resolve but they evaporated the next morning when I saw Taylor. She greeted me with a smile. I wanted to walk away. I faked being a friend with integrity. I felt awkward and dishonest and traitorous around her the entire day. Could she tell? Could she see it in my eyes? My body quivered at times from fears that she might somehow find out that I had seen her grandfather’s cock and I had sucked on it and that her grandfather had fucked my mouth and he had cum in my mouth. Her grandfather! What was wrong with me anyway?

There is more to tell of this story but space is limited here so if there is reader interest, I can tell those things in a sequel.

For now, it’s enough to say that I was glad for that first time in that basement. It was a time of dynamic internal conflicts, but the years of dreaming had come true when I got down on my knees before Cal in that darkened room in a time of crazy pleasure that I will never forget. Yes, I wanted his cock and I craved sucking on it, but even more, I wanted the approval and attention of a daddy-type and Cal proved to me that it was all that I had ever hoped it would be.