Nifty Archivist, Can you please add this story to my series Cyril in the gay adult friendship section? Also, can you add this series and my other series "Adventures of Josh" from the gay college section to my authors page "chubbyboy" ? Thanks!
Cyril Part 3
This work is pure fiction. I welcome your comments. chubbyboyinbama@yahoo.com
We have fallen into a routine. This routine is like a dream for me. For some reason, it is almost always on a Thursday night. You get home late from work. Perhaps the work week has worn you down and you need release. Every once in a while, when your plans with a female fuck buddy fall through, I might get lucky enough for you to do it twice in one week.
I imagine that is what it is. I pretend to be asleep but I never am. Not on Thursdays. I hear you at the door. Your keys jingle. You shuffle around in the kitchen and then off to your room. I know what you are doing. You grab a beer or two or three and disappear. But then, after about an hour, I hear your footsteps on the stairs. You pause. Maybe listening. But then I hear you walk toward my room.
I can smell the beer on you from the doorway. You make no sound. You come and stand near the edge of my bed. You know I am awake, but I pretend to be asleep. I hear your belt buckle unfasten. I hear your zipper pull down. I hear the rustle of fabric. Then I feel your slender fingers on my scalp as you put your hand on my head and gently but firmly pull my face to your crotch. There is a smell there too. Your musk from a day's hard work. Combined with the detergent I use to wash your clothes. The smell intoxicates me the way the beer does for you.
You draw my face toward you as you effortlessly place the tip of your uncut dick at my lips. You push in. And while I maintain the pretense of sleep or resistance just one moment longer, you easily push my lips open and slide your dick into my mouth and down my throat. Once your cock is all the way in, and your musky nuts rest on my chin, only then do I fully "awaken" and begin to eagerly suck you. I bob up and down on your head. For the most part, you let me do all the work. Every few 8 or ten strokes, you pull my head hard into your hips, gagging me. You hold me there just long enough for me to almost wretch and gasp for breath before releasing me. I draw back, but not off, your cock. I take a couple quick deep breaths through my nose and keep going.
Again, these are quick. I dream that one day you will take your time and fuck my throat for hours the way you do with a woman. But usually it takes two minutes or three at the most before I hear your breath quicken. Sometimes, on nights when I am especially lucky, you give me the greatest gift I could hope for. Just as you are about to cum, rather than pulling my head down and shooting directly down my throat, you release my head and allow me to pull back just enough so that your hot jizz splashes the back of my throat, allowing me to taste your bitter spunk. On those nights, I am completely content.
Either way, once you have used me for your purpose and are spent, you allow me to lick your cock clean before you zip up and walk away, back to your room, shutting the door behind you. And I lay there, a wet spot on the front of my underwear, reliving the event, thinking about your sperm swimming around in my stomach, before I drift off to sleep.