Blowie in The Ditch
We got in Dave's car after lunch. It was some sort of SUV thing. I'd picked up that the make and model were important to him. Maybe it was a Mini-Cooper? I don't care about cars, so they long as they work. He said, "Michael's home. We can't fuck today, unless you, like, wanna fuck in the woods..."
"Sure. Sounds great." I was nonchalant. He paused.
What, did he think I wouldn't wanna fuck in the woods?
Annoying that Michael is this uptight. I mean, I met the guy and allegedly got the seal approval. I did my best poly boy good manners. Dinner with the two of them and my hubby. We're all gay, we're all over 21. Mark and I had been open for over a decade they've been open their whole marriage long--so what the fuck? Why was this complicated? I had no idea why the Michael was being such a candy ass.
But, on the other hand, who cares? I actually like fucking in the woods. I have an exhibitionistic streak that Dave's musclebear bod and uncut Cock compounded. Having Dave pound the daylight out of me bent over some log or big rock out in the open would definitely satisfy me. And I'd get another of his fucking loads, and that was what was really important.
The last time I took his load was a month ago and I was jonesing bad. Really bad. At that time, I thought of the taste of his cum in my mouth about seventeen times a day. I'm not even exaggerating. I was only beginning to truly understand that a man with his kind of body and energy shaped my consciousness like heroin or meth. We'd already fucked twice and the fantasies those memories fueled were getting intense. Next time, I dreamed, it might not just be him fucking me on my bench in my power rack. Maybe, he'd bring his buddies and they'd take turns fucking my mouth and ass raw. Maybe, he'd get off on blowing his load last into my sloppy cum-drenched asshole, while his spent buddies watched, approving.
Taking his Cock made me wanton. I probably should have been scared, but I wasn't. I wanted more. And I kept getting Cock blocked by his bullshit.
"Nah," he said. "We could get caught by cops."
What? I thought. Then why bring it up? You can't possibly think I'm bourgeois enough to shy away. In retrospect, perhaps he didn't read me that well. "You've never seen my neighborhood," he continued. "Michael's working and I promised him quiet this afternoon, but we could drive around."
"Sure," I said. I honestly could have cared less about the sights. I'm not all that interested in real estate, either. But the point was to hang out. You know, together time. Time to shoot the shit. Talk nerdy. I didn't just dig the guy for his body. We actually had a lot in common. Dungeons and Dragons. Sci-fi. Fantasy. Nerdy stuff. He wasn't a football fan, but he did try to find a Packers bar to take me to, not that he ever took me to it. He was an expert love bomber and we never got much time to hang out. He was the busiest house husband I'd ever met.
So, we drove out to his neighborhood. The house was nice, well beyond anything Mark and I will ever afford. Then he drove me out to where the housing development planned on expanding. It was a series of paved cul-de-sacs, laid out in advance of any actual houses. Just empty cul-de-sacs laid out in a loose, unwalled maze. We drove around and he talked about what the developers planned for a while. I don't remember the details.
Then, suddenly, he pulled over.
He gripped the steering wheel with both hands and said, with a strange finality, "I gotta piss." He then open the car door and got out. My bladder was just fine, but if Dave was gonna take his dick out, I wanted in on it, so I got out, too. He led me down into a ditch. Well, it wasn't exactly a ditch. The cul-de sac was on a sort of elevated plateau. Down the slope, the lower ground was hemmed in by thick forestland ten feet away, so it felt like a ditch. It wasn't visible from the road level unless you parked next to his car and got out. It was semi-private.
He whipped it out. Naturally, he had my undivided attention. He was semi-erect. He pissed an awesome stream that arced about five feet off the ground and landed about five feet in front of him. I pissed softly next to him, mesmerized by his stream. He playfully manipulated the flow, disrupting the arc. You're probably not wired to be as purely phallocentric as me, but this was the most rewarding moment of the date so far. Cock is deeply meaningful to me. I'm not even capable of acting as if I could be ashamed by my fascination. I loved his Cock. The first time we fucked, we did it in a private hottub and sauna room that had its own shower. While we were washing up after, he needed to take a piss, so he did it in the shower. I offered to hold his dick for him while he pissed. I was disappointed that he didn't take me up on it.
Then he tucked up and started climbing back up the hill. I followed and, when we got to the top, he turned to me, smiled and started macking on me. I was a little confused. I mean, why did we just climb back up here? This thought certainly didn't prevent me from losing myself completely in his kiss. He was a good kisser with an exploring, active tongue that I loved to suck on. Until I fucked men with bodies like his, I never understood that I could be this utterly submissive, that I could yearn to abandon myself completely to a man's power. I didn't realize that very little in this life is as rewarding. Sex with Dave changed my self-perception markedly.
Eventually, we came up for air. I looked into his eyes and knew the tide had turned. Whatever dumbfuck game he was playing, I knew that this time, I wasn't getting Cock blocked. I was getting his load. I chuckled and said, "Ya know, we shoulda just stayed down in the ditch." We climbed about halfway down again. He unbuckled his jeans and I fell to my knees. I was where I belonged again. I was grateful.
He wasn't overly long when erect, maybe six-and-a-half inches, but he was nice and thick. His Cock was uncut and he had a Prince Albert piercing in his frenulum with a thick ring. He took the PA out and put it on the same finger as his wedding ring. The wedding ring was also thick and expensive-looking. And his Cockhead always glistened with pre-cum. Always, every time I got into his trousers. The Cockhead was hypnotic and welcoming and rewarding. I was so grateful. I loved his glistening Cockhead.
I took it into my mouth. I automatically slipped my tongue beneath his foreskin and licked the precum clean. I had already coded to its flavor. Whenever I blew him, his Cock would release more precum at irregular intervals and I always savored the flavor. It was utterly rewarding and I always craved my next taste. Small guys with foreskin, the foreskin doesn't matter much. But with meaty guys, foreskin gives a cocksucker so much to play with. Joyfully, I played. I used my teeth to pull on his foreskin, gently stretching it as far as it would give. He tilted his head back and groaned with pleasure. These moments of a top's ecstasy are critical moments in a cocksucker's life, moments that tie him to meaning and purpose.
I then dove down, taking him completely down my throat. I reached my hand around his firm, meaty ass and pushed him into my face, using my posterior neck muscles to keep my head in place. I needed him to feel the power and exaltation in his Cock that he would have felt had he just stabbed deep into my ass. I needed him to feel as if he were in control. Then, releasing none of that pressure, with his Cock gloriously all the way down my throat, I darted my tongue out and lapped his heavy balls, those hefty, glorious nuts that manufactured his sweet cum --- cum that I had craved all month. Feeling the weight and thickness of his testicles on my tongue reassured me that my life had meaning and purpose.
Cockworship starts with the awareness of needing to give yourself completely to Cock, to hold nothing back. I hated holding back. I tried to never hold back.
I took his Cock out of my mouth and rubbed it across my face, feverishly kissing it all over. I then started sucking his nuts. Most guys need you to be delicate with their nuts. Dave actually liked me to chow down hard on them, which was so completely rewarding. I'd suck and lick each one, letting it out of my mouth with a satisfying pop. Dave's groaning made this even more worthwhile.
He lost patience and took my head and started skullfuck me, out there, in the open air, in that ditch by the woods. I'd gag a little here and there, but I lived for moments like this. Moreover, he'd moved quickly. Usually I'd have to work him for 45 minutes or so to get his load. Flouting whatever stupid restriction Michael forced on him about outdoor sex had really aroused him. This blowjob wasn't going to last more than eight minutes. Finally, he pulled out and said, "Open your mouth."
I complied and he rewarded me with his thick, heavy load. It was his turn to be mesmerized and he grunted out his rich semen onto my waiting tongue. It was a good mouthful. "Now, swallow!" he commanded, as if there were some chance I wasn't going to. Despite the bravado, his tone gave away his desperation for me to swallow. And swallow I did. I've never seen his load. I gratefully swallowed every single time.
Every time I tried to share his load with him and he refused, freaking out, even though he'd inevitably taste it when we kissed. Powerful and intoxicating as his body was, I was always more uninhibited than him. Disinhibition is also a core value for me.