When I had my first summons from Jeremy, I made a point not to be late getting there. He once told me that missing a call or text from him could spell the end of our association.
What was our association exactly? Well, Jeremy was my thirty-six-year-old co-worker at the parts factory. When I found myself aroused by the sight of him and entranced by the scent of him (feelings that confused even me), Jeremy noticed me noticing. He took me aside and asked me if I was what he called a chubby chaser, a man who is attracted to large men. Suddenly, I knew what I was: a chubby chaser. While Jeremy was quick to point out that he was not gay, he has let me blow him several times. He has even indicated he might fuck me at some point. I always thought I was straight but one look at Jeremy's naked body in the locker room showers at work proved to me that I'm gay, or at least bi, with a fetish for bigger men.
I met Jeremy to give him blowjobs in his delivery truck, in the showers at work, in his car, in the alley behind a bar and in an underground parking garage.
Now that Jeremy had finally summoned me to his own home, I made it to his door on time, with minutes to spare. He told me I was early and ordered me to stand outside and wait. I wondered what people would think of me standing in front of a man's apartment door with puppy dog eyes asking to be let in for several minutes.
Eventually, he opened the door and invited me in.
"Eight o'clock means eight o'clock, not five to."
I nodded agreeably and looked around the interior of his apartment.
The place was a pig-sty and all I saw was the living room and the kitchen. The ancient wallpaper was peeling and yellowed. The shelves and tables were covered either in dust or beer cans. The couch was buried in a mountain of laundry. The windows were so dirty they barely allowed light. The floors were filthy and the rugs were in sorry need of vacuuming. The kitchen backsplash was disgusting. The sink was full of dishes and the counters were covered with take-out bags and boxes. The garbage and recycling bins were overflowing. I thought it spoke volumes about how Jeremy prized me in our relationship that he didn't lift a finger to clean up before I arrived.
Jeremy went and sat in a large wingback chair and gestured for me to get on my knees in front of him. I obeyed, even though I didn't care to put my knees on that dirty carpet. He unbuckled and opened up, letting his cock spring up. It didn't go far; he wasn't terrifically endowed.
I didn't need to be told what to do next. I put my hands on his thighs and leaned in to take the swollen dick into my mouth. I was pretty new to cocksucking, but I knew what I liked and used that as a starting point. I gave the glans of the penis plenty of attention with my swirling tongue. I bobbed my head over his cock.
Jeremy never waited for my jaw to get sore. He usually came in three minutes or under. What he lacked in stamina he made up for in potency. I gave him head three of four times in a day sometimes. I found myself excited as I wondered if this would be one of those days. Giving to Jeremy was a one-sided affair—he did not reciprocate—but I was satisfied. I would often come in my pants from blowing him. This was not one of those times however.
Jeremy blasted my tonsils with his semen, filling my mouth with the hot, tasty jizz I had come to love so much. I swallowed the whole load and continued licking and sucking at Jeremy's cock until it was clean and dry. Then, at his command, I tucked his penis back into his pants and zipped him up.
"Good," he said. Not thanks, just good. "What do you think of my place?"
