He Came, Etc.
I
The doorknob turned and he pushed it open: I had expected him forty minutes ago.
Nineteen? Twenty years old? Thereabouts. Five foot nine perhaps, and about 140 pounds: ten stone, as the English would say. He had broad shoulders, slender hips, long legs. His smooth arms were muscular and his hands and feet big for his slim body.
He wore ragged jeans, a tee shirt once dark green, now faded, worn running shoes. No socks. He glanced around the room and then at me out of pale grey-green eyes. The eyes and cheekbones suggested Slavic but his nose was straight and his thin lips well shaped. His light brown hair, cropped short to the shape of his head, showed lighter glints, as if from the sun.
With feline grace he moved toward me. I sat on a low, padded ottoman. He now stood directly in front of me, his crotch level with my face. I began to incline my head toward him but he forestalled this by placing his left foot on my lap.
Understanding immediately, I unlaced the shoe and pried it off revealing a narrow foot. I bent forward and kissed his foot managing to capture his big toe in my mouth and felt it wiggle.
He yanked it free, withdrew his right foot and placed the left on my lap and waited for me to remove his other shoe.
When I looked up at him I was surprised to discover that he had removed his tee shirt which now lay on the floor next to his shoe. His pecs were powerfully etched, displayed dark pink aureoles flat as quarters, nipples protruding lewdly. His chest had no hair.
His flat belly drew my eyes down to the swirl of his navel sitting atop a thin trail of hair, brown, golden, that disappeared under the waistband of his jeans.
I looked to his face again and he nodded, signaling that I could unbutton his fly. I pulled the jeans down over his hips and they bunched at his ankles as he stepped out of them. Clad now only in a pair of generic white cotton briefs, the arc of his penis was visible beneath the thin cloth. Was there a spot or two on the bulge of his underwear? Wet? Yellow?
Too impatient to check, I lowered his briefs, not even waiting to get his permission, until they rested were he could kick them off. He was naked. At last.
The thatch of pubic hair was darker than that on his head and looked silky. An inch or so above his bush on the left side was the only mark on his body: a small blue tattoo. It was a crown. Plum-sized balls, the left hanging a little lower pushed his hanging penis into a slight outward curve.
It was, for me, the perfect cock. A smooth cylinder of hefty flesh showing a faint blue vein and ending in the flair of an ample, slightly pinker cone-shaped head, its tip punctured by a gaping urethra. I estimated its flaccid length at about four inches.
As I leaned forward to begin worshipping it with my mouth his hand moved to my forehead and he pushed me back. He swiveled around, bent forward at the waist and pulled his buttocks apart.
His first words: "Make out with my asshole, man."
The hairless cleft between his buns was in front of my face. From the small of his back to his perineum, two thirds of the way down, the pink puckered ring of his anus drew my attention. It was as perfect as his cock. It twitched as he worked his sphincter in anticipation.
Delaying my pleasure, I began licking at the top of his smooth, open crack working slowly downward, tasting the salt of his sweat, gliding over his asshole and licking fervently at his perineum. He spread his legs a little wider.
Unable to resist longer, my mouth went back to his anus. I licked around its crinkly, hairless perimeter, tentatively poked the tip of my tongue at the clenched entrance, pushed harder but penetrated only a half inch or so.
"Suck hard on my asshole, man. Get it open."
I did as he said, forming my mouth into an O and applying a steady pressure. Soon I felt his sphincter begin to yield and found I could now insert my tongue into him. Forcing it forward as he pushed back against my face I was at last inside his rectum. I wished my tongue was inches longer as I reverently explored the velvety sheath, the pathway to the inside of his body. The smooth hard flesh of his ass cheeks pressed against the sweaty cheeks of my face.
I could taste his dark essence intensely now. I was desperate to please him: his occasional murmur indicated that I was succeeding.
"Work your tongue way in. Farther. That's it. Oh yeah, clean my shit-pipe for me."
Minutes passed as I worshipped in this incredible tube of flesh, my mind blanking out the word he used: "shit". I was tasting only him, surely not * that. *
My hand crept to his front and clasped and stroked his erection...satiny flesh moving over a steel- hard shaft, two fistfulls in length now I gauged, the head of his dick damp with the beginnings of leaking precum.
His hands reached back and held my head in place.
"Get your tongue out now," he said. "Just suck on my hole."
His belly rumbled and suddenly a jet of hot gas erupted from his asshole and shot into my astonished mouth. My body convulsed at the enormity of what he had done to me. He had farted in my mouth. I think I came a little bit about then.
He moved a little forward and I watched his anus close, his buttocks move together to let me admire the superb set of small round buns, hairless globes of muscled flesh.
Then he turned to face me.
II
The head of his erect cock touched my lips. I began to nuzzle it but then he stepped back and a look of concentration filled his face. His eyes dropped down to his erection and, to my shock, he willed it away. The blood drained from his penis and the eight inches became four again. Now he stepped forward once more and grabbed my hand pulling it behind him.
"Stick your finger up my asshole."
My forefinger slid in easily to the hilt, lubricated by the saliva I had left in his chute.
"Find my p-spot. Rub it."
I hooked my finger and searched for his prostate. Finding the nubby gland deep inside him I began stroking it.
He took hold of his limber dick and we watched expectantly until a globule of clear, glistening precum oozed out of his piss-hole His thumb pulled down on my chin and I knew I was to stick out my tongue. Placing the head of his cock on my tongue he let the fluid drool out. I cupped it gratefully until he signaled me that I could close my mouth and swallow it.
Without a pause he now forced the head of his penis through my lips. It rested briefly in my mouth and I could feel it grow, harden. Then, relentlessly, he began to push his pelvis forward forcing inch after inch of stiff shaft over my tongue, against my palate and, finally into my throat. He didn't stop until his pubes were on my lips, his phallus buried in my throat, my finger still all the way up inside his spasming anus.
We stayed locked while I breathed through my nose, overcame my instinct to gag. He soon began a remorseless pumping, withdrawing until only his glans filled my mouth, then forcing his entire organ through my inn-drawn lips until buried once more deep in my gullet.
Out...in...slowing...speeding... seeking,...finding his pleasure.
A final deep thrust and I felt the explosion of his semen flush my throat. My own orgasm came, fouling my underwear, as he drew the head of his cock back not my mouth and ejaculated again and again and again.
"Don't swallow yet. Open your mouth and show me," he ordered.
I must have held a quarter cup of his creamy, soapy semen in my mouth. I swirled it around and he watched as I swallowed it. When I thought he wasn't looking I moved into my mouth the finger that until then had been probing his rectum and I sucked on it avidly. He did notice. A wry smile played on his lips.
He flopped on the floor, his back against the ottoman, his elbows resting on its padded surface. With a foot he dragged over his jeans and extracted a pack of cigarettes and put one in his mouth. I fetched a match and ashtray and squatted down beside him, lit his cigarette. He dragged in a few grateful lungsful and then stubbed it out.
He sprawled relaxed, eyes closed, legs spread, thick soft cock slung on his slim muscular thigh. It was still wet from my mouth and a thin strand of his cum extended from his urethra and across the flesh of his leg. I wanted to lick it off.
After a bit he opened his eyes. He lifted his dick to show me his big balls resting on the floor and glanced at me and then down to his crotch. An invitation. I crept forward and lay prone between his legs, my chin on the floor and my face against his genitals.
I began to lick first one testicle and then the other. They were hairless, slightly wrinkled, but somehow smooth to my tongue. Opening wide I took one in my mouth and felt its fragile strength, Then I released it and mouthed the other one. Impatient, he reached down and pulled my jaw further open so that he could stuff both of his balls inside my hungry mouth. I was barely able to accommodate so much flesh; but I was grateful that he trusted me to cherish the sources of his manhood. I wished my finger was still up inside his asshole.
Eventually he pulled his balls out of my mouth and sprang lithely to his feet. His dick was fully hard again. The powerful fullness of it swooped upward from his groin in a wide arc so that his large, open piss-hole pointed at the ceiling.
He looked sideways down at the ottoman. "Lay down on that thing. On your back."
Then, " Not like that. With your head hanging over the side. That's it."
He approached me, facing down my body toward my feet. As he fit his dick once more into my mouth, I realized what he was after. The curve of my throat in this position would fit the curve of his cock. He would be able to fuck my throat with no resistance.
He began to pump and my finger re-entered his shit-hole. (Yes, I could call it that now.) He fucked my face like a machine, his balls banging against my nose with each thrust. He reached down my body, located my cock through my pants and with thumb and two fingers pinched it roughly, making sure it was hard.
I was sure he would come again hugely but I knew that my manipulation of his prostate would make his climax even bigger. Of course, when he did orgasm I could not feel it; he was too deep in my now numb throat for me to sense his ejaculation. But as he shot over and over he pinched my penis hard again and I too came, adding more sticky goo to my the mess in my underwear.
III
He pulled his flaccid penis out of my mouth with a plop.
He said, "Sit up now, facing me."
His cock was once again in my mouth. Did he plan to fuck it a third time?
But he remained still and then said, "Don't suck my dick. Just wait."
I did. Soon I felt a quiver pass through his slender, naked body. Suddenly a thick spurt of urine struck the back of my mouth. I closed my lips tighter and he filled my mouth with his piss. As he let flow the gushing stream of hot, salty fluid.
He said, "Swallow it, man, Drink it all down."
With fingers on my throat to feel me swallowing, he proceeded to empty his bladder down my gullet and into my stomach. There would be too much, I worried. His urine would back up and pour out my nose. But just as my belly reached capacity his flow ebbed.
He kept his dick in my mouth as we peered into each others eyes. We both knew a new truth: As his fierce dick had conquered my throat, as his slimy shit-chute had captured my tongue, so now his hot piss found its home in my stomach. Soon it would pass into my own bladder. The next time I urinated it would be his piss flowing through my penis, a puny echo of the gusher he had delivered into me.
He shook the last few drops of his piss to splatter on my face and then slipped on his tee shirt. He stepped into his jeans, ignoring his briefs, and pulled them over his hips. He fastened the top button, his big floppy dick still hanging free.
As he began to tuck it inside he saw the look of dismay, of longing on my face. Did he take pity? Perhaps. In any case he turned his back to me once again, loosened his jeans and pulled them down enough to show me his magnificent little butt.
He reached back to spread his cheeks once again, revealing his slightly dilated shit-hole and said,
"Go ahead, you can kiss me goodbye now."
My lips on his anus, my tongue probing inside his rectum I grew dizzy at the deep, dark taste that suffused my mouth. I had grown to love it.
Soon his jeans were back up and buttoned. He pushed his bare feet into his tennies. He leaned toward me and took my face in his two hands, tipping it up to face him.
"Smile," he said.
Then he scooped up his shorts and dropped them in my lap.
As he turned to leave I turned the briefs inside out, brought them up to my face, found the yellow spots in the pouch and the faint brown track in the seat. I buried my face in the soiled fabric, inhaling him, retaining him.
He reached the door and opened it. He started through it but then he looked at me over his shoulder and said, "Say thank you."
The door closed behind him. He was gone.
[Note: If you would like to discuss any aspect of my story please email me at kaychas@gmail.com kaychas@gmail.com. Thank you.]