Hey guys, it's been quite a while since I've written for Nifty, or written erotica period. I'm mulling over an e-book of shorts but trying to see if I've still got it. Would love comments, good and bad, especially the bad.
Would be cool to know who thinks this is real and who thinks it is fake.
Married? There was no way, he was a child! A child with one of the largest pieces I've ever seen and an aggression that I thankfully wasn't fully privy to, but a child.
Those were the thoughts rushing through my mind as I hopped down the four stories of his walk-up. It had taken four hours - which was decidedly a long time for me - but it happened. To be quite honest, I'm not sure why I continued to message him for all that time. Maybe it was his boldness: Sometimes I like dom'ing and getting rough; Wanna come blow me and eat me?; I want you to swallow me. Or maybe it was a game: he seemed put off at first by the fact that I wouldn't trade face pictures but pushed through the conversation anyway.
No matter what it was, a full four hours after he chatted me with my then recently updated "Not vers but have something for bottoms and the right tops" description I found myself staring down into the face of what looked like a prepubescent boy. And it took mere seconds for me to decide that somewhere along the line I'd made a mistake that I had to rectify.
Hey buddy, you're not what I expected. I don't know if this is going to work out.
It caught in my throat as he rubbed against his low-calf grazing gym shorts and what I thought was a heavy wrinkle was revealed for what it actually was... I couldn't leave.
Another rub; jump. Take off your shirt. I'm normally pretty skittish about losing my own wardrobe but even with my necklace, hair and glasses, the shirt was gone in seconds and I found myself sinking: to my knees, down his shaft, with my hands lightly on his waist until I heard an unexpected sigh from the smallest person possibly carrying the largest penis I'd ever seen in my life.
Recounting it makes it sound like it was all a blur, which is accurate. The Grindr back and forth was lazy and drawn out like a heavyweight wrestling match, reaching a frenzied speed only at the very end when he decided he had to have it and couldn't wait any longer. And now here he was, a scant two minutes after seeing my face, his thick shaft buried, and still burying down my throat.
You've got to be a champ about it though, learning when it's ok to breathe through the nose, massaging with your throat, backing off to the head slowly and teasing with the tongue for a prolonged period just until you see his boredom start to creep in and then diving back onto him for a quick fifteen reps of your lips racing across the length of his piece, your tongue darting back and forth; darting, poking and swirling. You've got to be a champ.
And when you feel his hand that's been resting on your shoulder go from a light coaxing flutter to a steady, urging anchor on your head and then closing into a fist full of your hair, now pulling the two of you ever closer, you have to know your attention should change from the rhythm and method of bobbing to opening up your throat and finding your breath as his hips rear back and forth pushing his tip from your lips back into the caverns of your throat and beyond. Attention must be paid.
He was surprisingly open. Those small, slightly yellow cupcakes of his were meaty and perky, and spread as he bent at the waist in his hallway - did I forget to mention we'd never left there - and I dove in to find a surprisingly open hole for the "TOTAL TOP" persona that the pint-sized boy's profile claimed. The checks were perfect really, requiring no assistance in separating, and just large enough to cup each one in a palm in the theoretical event that I would up atop him, spreading him wide as I drilled - lazily no doubt - into him.
And though open holes, moaners and lithe bodies eager to be rimmed so much that they push back onto me, only beckon for a condom shielded load, I kept my composure and only rimmed him, his face pressed hard against the wall for a few seconds before he was pushing back on to me and then was atop me, riding my tongue in an eager yet slowly savoring pace while he stroked himself.
Finally, he raised and I flipped over, with anticipation of another drawn out session of suckling hut his frenzied thrusts, shortening on each bout quickly rewarded me with a sort of prize of my own.
A glass of water and small chat later, I saw the ring. Nevermind though, hopefully I'll be back for a closer look.