I cried out loud and came hard. He gagged, gulped and gagged again. I could feel his throat tighten around my rigid staff with each spasm. I clamped on to his head, forcing his face into my pubic hair. I drove my spurting cock deeper, draining the overheated juices from my sac. As the spasms lessened, I let him go and he fell back against the door, panting as I stood victoriously over him, bathed in sweat, still oozing cum, the mighty conqueror gloating over his vanquished foe. He smiled and I nearly broke into loud, triumphant laughter. He seemed so strange with my semen dripping from his lips. Leaning towards me, he licked away the last trickles of sperm from my cock slit. I shivered with the feel of his tongue on my ultra sensitive glans and could not hold back a moan as his spermy lips kissed my cock head. My cock was as stiff as ever and had not lost one iota of the rigidity that had brought us to that point.
I was suddenly conscious of being level with his sweaty groin and the thick ridge of his cock, which seemed to have grown in the last five minutes. He caught me looking lewdly at his crotch and instantly pulled down the zip of his fly. The thin, worn fabric parted sufficiently to let me catch a fleeting glimpse of wiry black pubic hair and a leather cock ring nestling at the root of his manhood. He wore no underpants, which I guessed explained the sweaty patch in the denim. He hauled his cock out; it was about six inches long, pleasantly formed, thick but not nearly as big as mine was. He dragged his balls out as well and they were much bigger, comfortably secure in a sac that appeared to be thicker than mine. I was not sure what I should do but I knew I had to reward him somehow for giving me such a brilliant blowjob. I ran my tongue along his cock until my nose pressed against his pubes. There was an incredible odour of unadulterated masculinity, reminding me of the locker room when guys were changing after a soccer or rugger match. It was mixed with that instantly recognisable smell of spunk you get when you've wanked into your pyjama bottoms and let it dry during the night. There was a trace of the reek that lingered in my step-dad's discarded underpants as they lay in the laundry basket, waiting for washday. Altogether it was an aroma of prime sleaze: a fusion of everything that turns me on, even today. The young lads I had usually made it with up to then smelt Lynx fresh and Adidas perfumed. This guy simply smelt of MAN.
I don't know what he must have thought when I pushed my nose into the crotch piece of his jeans and licked around his cock. The smell seemed to get stronger and stronger and it had my fucking toes curling in no time. I put my hands on his arse to steady myself and his buttocks felt hard and firm to the touch. The denim was smooth and worn as if it was silk. This experience was something new for me and I felt warm inside. It wasn't simply that my cock was hard again. I felt good deep inside my belly and I was becoming desperate for more and more of him. Having his cock slide along my tongue and fill my mouth was truly thrilling. I don't think I have ever enjoyed sucking another man's cock quite as much, before or since. Perhaps it was the smells and tastes from his jeans or maybe it was because he was the oldest man I had ever had any cock action with, apart from my step-dad that is. Whatever it was, it was certainly turning me on and I was enjoying sucking him, tasting his sweaty staff and making him groan with pleasure. I'd never made a guy do that before, never before heard a guy make those moans and groans that told me how much he was enjoying it. It has always gratified me and I find it both satisfying and rewarding when it happens.
The more he groaned, the more I worked with delight on his manpiece. All the time I could smell and taste the bittersweet masculinity of his groin. It was amazing! Eventually, I felt his cock expanding in my mouth and I knew he was about to erupt. I also knew I wasn't prepared to swallow, so I pulled off him and flicked and tickled his piss slit with the tip of my tongue. His jerking, throbbing cock shot six or seven heavy loads of spunk on to my face with an almost explosive force. It landed in my hair, on my forehead and on my cheeks, dribbling down to my chin, dripping on to the floor. As I moved back it seemed to follow me, spattering and dripping on to my naked thighs. It was an unbelievable experience. It was the first time I had ever sucked a guy off to a full climax and, looking up at him, I could see in his eyes that he was absolutely turned on by it. He stood there in his denim jeans and football shirt, his body shaking with pleasure, as horny as fuck and looking as sleazy as anything I had ever seen. My cock had stiffened again at the thought of what I had done to a total stranger in a casual one-off sexual encounter. Slowly, as his orgasm eased away, he squeezed the last drops of seminal fluid from the head of his softening cock on to a piece of toilet paper, which he tossed into the toilet bowl.
"Shit, that was fucking hot, lad. A big cock and a great mouth, you're going to be a star performer." He noticed my resurgent cock and threw me a filthy, lascivious grin. "You wanna go round again?" He chuckled but this time I simply smiled and blushed.
"Mmmm, not now," I said, dodging the question by pulling up my jeans, making ready to leave. "I ought to be going now. That was good, really good... and I just love those denims of yours. Where the fuck do you get jeans that good in this burg?"
"Try the charity shops. Here take this." He produced a card bearing his telephone number. "Any time you need some more action like that give me a call. Maybe I'll bring a friend along as well, if you feel you can handled more than one of us at a time."
I left that stall still shaking. Standing by the hand basins was another guy in his mid-twenties, in full skinhead gear, looking hornier than I remembered his mates would normally look. From the bulge in his bleached jeans and the hungry, rapacious look on his face, he seemed ready to take my place. I walked out of that toilet, right through the club and out into the cool night air. The whole experience had been good and had certainly quenched (for now at any rate) the raging inferno that had burned in my balls. I simply could not believe that I had done anything so sleazy in a public toilet. I couldn't imagine ever wanting to do anything that perverted again!
Day followed day with monotonous regularity but I seemed unable to shake off the after effects of that toilet sex incident. I still went to the club, but it had somehow lost the allure it had once had for me. I became increasingly withdrawn, taking to staying out very late and cruising the local park. I know, I know, it was dangerous and I risked being mugged or worse. I was setting myself up to catch some unmentionable dreadful disease but... It was anonymous, nobody cared much about anything other than being fucked silly or else jerking themselves off watching someone else being fucked silly. Rarely did anyone speak to anyone else. After a while I even stopped going to the park. I began spending too many lonely hours in my student lodgings gawping at late night 'Z' rated horror movies on the TV. Consequently, my work began to suffer, producing barbed comments from my tutor.
Then I began to hear arguments inside my head. My good side pleaded: "You're a fucking wanker, Arnie. Why are you doing this to yourself? You could be throwing away a golden chance of making a decent career for yourself just because you can't stop thinking about some shameful, dirty, sleazy, sex act you indulged in with a pervert quite a while ago. Please, please pull yourself together." My bad side interrupted, "Aw fuck off, you! It might have been all those things but it was not shameful nor was it perverted, it was fucking ENJOYABLE! And we want some more, don't we, Arnie?"
I made a strenuous effort to exorcise my ghosts, I really did. To start with, I developed a twice-daily wanking routine, spending a fortune on porn mags, fantasising about having good honest and clean old-fashioned sex with the models who took my fancy. I poured over horny stories, particularly ones featuring college or university students or guys in the military, making my bed sheets as stiff as cardboard with the quantities of spunk I let go from wanking so much. This lasted for several days until I was on the verge of becoming a wank junkie. I began to hope I'd seen the last of my bad side. This attempted reformation was also helped by the fact I had not been home since I started my studies and was out of reach of my step-dad and his wandering hands, cock sucking mouth and arse banging dick. Then, on the following Friday, when I was in my favourite sex shop, I found myself accidentally leafing through a magazine devoted to leather guys. There was a black-and-white picture sequence of two hunky guys having a ball. Problem was, they were doing it in a public toilet! To my horror and consternation, I found myself immediately thinking of Him standing before me, legs apart, in those faded dirty crotched jeans, being 'perverted' with me. I wanted Him!
Two hours after this relapse I tried to make out with a horny teenager I picked up in the local all-night supermarket and who I knew from the club. Gerry and I played around with each other back in my bedroom, but it was only play acting on my part, although I could see the lad wanted more, much more. I could only think of Him. My cock twitched and swelled as the memory of my experience with Him grew. Every thought of Him reminded me how He'd taken my cock in one engulfing movement; how His tongue had seemed to be alive as it swirled around my aching balls and caressed my shaft, tracing the big veins standing out along its length. I remembered how He had swallowed my load and come back for more. I groaned deep and loud, spunking so hard that Gerry gagged although he only had the head of my cock in his mouth. Nice, but it wasn't Him. Poor old Gerry left my place with his cock still as hard as rock and leaking goo into his snowy white briefs. I only hope he found a guy who took care of his needs and treated him better than I had done.
Any time I wanted He had said. Trouble was, I'd accidentally thrown away the card with His telephone number on it. The bin men had long since taken it to the council dump. I came back to the one thought that almost made me impotent: I would have to start over and look for Him. But first I had to find clothing that would catch His eye and then hope He would recognise me. I found the jeans in the local Oxfam outlet. They were going for three quid. I was so pleased at having found what I was looking for I added a couple of quid. Twenty-eight inch waist? OK, so I'm really a thirty, but I was hoping the previous owner had stretched them a bit. I had an anxious moment in the fitting room when the zip started to strain when I tried them on, although I was 'going Commando' that day. Serves me right, I told myself, for having the insolence to possess such a big cock!
Once the jeans were safely on, I stood in front of the full-length mirror. The effect was brilliant. Tight to the waist and scandalously taut in the crotch, where the potency of my heavy testicles was on full display. Underneath, close to where my balls rested, I found a couple of small rips that allowed some skin to show through. The jeans were stretched close to breaking point over my butt and the back seam pressed lewdly into my crack, stroking my ringpiece every time I took a step. Best of all, though, the bulging crotch showed off my big cock to perfection: the full nine-and-a-half by three inches and not a millimetre less! It was hardly surprising, as I had become as hard as fuck just squeezing my legs into the jeans and grappling with the zip, as if I was trying to slip into a second skin - and not forgetting the pressure from the back seam! My cock simply got as stiff as I could remember and I could not believe the image in that changing room mirror, gazing at my own erection straining from my balls to the top of my left thigh. Fuck, any guy - gay or straight - would give a year's salary to look as fucking hot as I did that afternoon! There was even a small damp patch of you-know-what forming close to my cock head. I hoped the old crone operating the till wouldn't notice. From the crabby expression on her face as I approached the counter, she had but she had the good sense to enjoy the view and say nothing. To make her feel better I bought a studded belt as well and rounded up the total to ten quid. No, it was still a bargain to me! She did have the grace to thank me for "the extra". I have sometimes wondered since what she really meant by "the extra"!
Wearing my new purchases and clutching the Oxfam bag with my former apparel stuffed into it, I made my way further down the High Street, past the war memorial and up Horseia Passage, until I came to the Age Concern shop. I was looking for a casual shirt to complement His blue Chelsea shirt and my bum-and-scrotum squeezing jeans. This was the most likely place to find what I was looking for and sure enough, I quickly found an M size burgundy Fred Perry. It was perfect for my purposes and fitted me like a glove. I had seen a number of wash days and the colour had faded to a medium rose from its original full-on deep red wine colour, but the collar and sleeves had retained their shape. I was going to look for Him and this time I would be prepared. To make doubly sure, I had my hair done in the style of the latest craze. When I looked in the barber's mirror, I almost embarrassed myself by cumming in my 'new' jeans. I looked at least three years younger than my nineteen years and ten months - and decidedly rampantly horny, sexy, ready to shag to save the nation! I wore those jeans all that week, from one Saturday to the next, not bothering to take them off, not bothering to shower. I slept in them. I leaked precum in them. I sweated in them. I went to lectures in them. I also got a lot of attention all week from the other students, both male and female, but there was only one person's attention I wanted. I wanted Him so badly and hoped he would be impressed with my 'new look'. In the solitude of my bedroom, I gazed at my reflection in the mirror. You look fucking great kid, just like He had. These jeans smell and feel so good after a week of wearing. I'm so fucking horny in them. Fucking Hell, I'm dressing to look sexy! Mean, dirty, filthy, perverted sexy! HALLELUJA!!
TO BE CONTINUED. . . Part 3 - Fulfilment