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I Like Head/Chapter I
Call me Ishmael. Ok, don't. You can call me JJ, which is what everyone else calls me, and short for Gianni.
Right now, I'm doing my favorite thing in the world, which is getting head. Let me be more clear: by favorite thing, I mean laying on my own bed, in my own apartment, stoned, buds in my ear, listening to music, and getting a world-class blowjob. My arms are folded behind my head. My eyes are closed. This little Korean fag has been tooling on my cock for at least a half hour, and neither of us is going anywhere soon. Albert's his name, the Korean boy. At this exact moment, he's got all eight-and-a-half of my inches inside his mouth and throat, and softly fucking his face against my pubes.
Albert is Albert Ahn, American, a chemistry major here. Kind of a nerd, doesn't do 420, 5'5", weighs maybe 135, hairless (we'll get to that), and one of the truly great cocksuckers of the world. (I've collected a few.) No kidding. He lives for my cock. Well, that's what he says. Mad skills on Albert. Loves to throat me to the base and just stay there. I think his record is a minute-and-a-half. He's gonna take at least two loads this afternoon, without a break. When he gets tired, I'll text Steven to come over, for nut number three and four. Oh fuck, Albert just got both of my nuts in his mouth at the same time.
Everybody says my nuts are huge. (Well, they are huge.) And Albert's a little guy, so this is a first for him.
Duly noted.
I took the apartment on Cornell for the side alley. 128 Cornell. See, no street light. And a separate stairway on the alley to my place on the second floor. Away from all the frat and sorority houses. Which means my fags can come and go, and "nobody has to know nuthin'," as my uncle Gino likes to say. Gotta have my cocksuckers, and too many eyes when I live at Kappa last year. It comes down this way: gay guys give better head, and fags give the best head. I ain't gay (we'll get to that, too), but who turns away good head? Oh man, Albert's doing this thing he does with his lips and tongue, right under the head of my dick. He musta nursed on cock as a baby. 128 Cornell, Number 2B, just off campus: my piece of paradise. And speaking of pieces...Albert has me so fuckin' close...
Where'd I find Albert? At the gym, of course, just like I found Steven and all the others. (Not 'Steve.' You notice how fags are so prissy about their names? It's a wonder he didn't spell it "ph.") I have this trick, which I learned by accident back in Philly. It never fails. I stand near the entrance to the locker room, like I'm waiting for someone, with just a towel on my shoulders, nothing else. Total fag magnet. You can't miss me. I wrestle varsity at 197, and my Italian side comes out in black hair all over. And I'm what you call a show-er, cause my dick hangs a fat six inches even soft. I lift all the time, so yeah, I'm pretty stacked. It's fag kryptonite. Sometimes, fags trip and fall because they stare and lose their balance. Once I got a live one, I go up to their locker, put a leg up on the bench, touch my meat just enough to paralyze my prey, and get a phone number. Then I reel 'em in. Right now, Albert's doin' this thing with his tongue when he's got me to the root... This is when I sometimes lock my legs around his head to hold him in place while I unload...Oh, fuuuuuck...fuuuuuuuuck...
"How long you been into fags, JJ?" Okay, maybe you're not asking that. But I'll tell you anyway. Since I was 14 (I'm a junior at State now, 20 years old). That is a lot of primo head. I was working in Uncle Gino's liquor store in Rehobeth, and this college-looking dude comes for wine, and starts lookin' at me, like a lot. Ok, I was just back from wrestling camp, and tanned, and wearing a wife-beater T and shorts. I was one of those teenagers who matured fast, shaving at 12 and all the rest. (Uncle Gino flat out told me, "Your job is to bring in the gays.") So this first time, I was a little wierded out, but got a tingle down there too, kinda hooked on the way this dude was hovering around me. He left me his card, and kept coming back to the store on the days I worked, and I went for a ride in his truck after I got off, and he blew me, and I never felt anything like it and the rest is history. Albert's in the bathroom now, taking a piss...that was a huge load he swallowed, maybe eight spurts....
Steven, my number two cocksucker today, lives in the apartment below. I put him there, to take of me and take care of my apartment. When you work in the liquor business, you get to understand certain things, like about moving substances around, and customers, and cash. So I handle a fair amount weed on campus. Enough to keep the cash flowing in. When they made it legal here, it didn't change things much for me. Which means I can afford the rent on two places, and put a fag like Steven downstairs.
Steven cleans my place, with that hot gymnast ass in my face. Light brown hair on his head, and hairless from the neck down. Really. I told him to get rid of the body hair, pubes too, and he went to some Brazilian wax joint and they removed it, like, permanently. All of it. Yeah, I fuck fags too but I like I said, head's my favorite...
Steven uses his key to come in. For a sub - yeah, I know what a "sub" is! - he's got just the right touch of guts. If I send him out to get me some food, and somebody's blowing me when he gets back, he knows not to bother me. Just puts the food and change on the counter, and lets himself back out. This time, I had to check on something, so I hollered and he came to the bedroom door. Albert was still in the shower. The sheets were a mess. Stephen checked me out, riveting right aways as always to my half- hard, spent cock first, then travelling up to my face. Fags. So predictable! "When he splits, you gotta clean this up," I told him, sprawled out, pulling on my cock. He nodded.
"Don't worry, there's plenty left for you," as I shot a look at my swollen dick and then his eyes.
"Did you make sure they didn't make it too spicy?" He nodded again. Stephen is about 5,6" 130 pounds.
(When you wrestle, you pay attention to weight. Like, a lot of attention.) Lean up top, 26" waist, creamy smooth skin, and a big bubble ass that I've had him working on since we hooked up last year.
"Should I come back in a few minutes?"
"Nah, you can straighten up the living room. Gonna have some pals over later."
"...you mean customers."
That was a bit smart-assed. "You mean customers, SIR. Little bitch."
"Yes, I mean customers, Sir," and he turned and left. Stephen is a slave for my cock, and the rest of me.
And I've trained him well - some withholding of the meat here, some firm spanking there, the fact that I'm his landlord, and his source of employment to round it all out. I just had to take the raw material - a fag desperate to serve and please any real man - and mold him to serve and please me.
I sound like a regular pasha, don't I? Well, like I said, I don't have much to worry about. I got loads of cash. I got a job waiting for me when I get outta here. Gino or some other relative is gonna find me a girl to marry when I get back to Philly. And in the meantime, I got Stephen and all the pussyboys I need.
(to be continued)