Cock Sucker Sex Addiction

(1) THE SYMPATHY BLOW-JOB

A guy phones me, out of the blue. Says he's a colleague of my Boyfriend, and yes, I'd encountered him by chance once or twice when I was out with Glenn. He knows my Boyfriend is out of town, and suggests we meet. I'm pleased, flattered and more than a little intrigued. He picks me up in his car and drives us out to a Bar overlooking the harbor, where - over drinks, he starts into telling me that he knows all about the nature of my relationship with Glenn, that he's bragged and insinuated all the dirty little sex-things I do for him. My companion for the evening then goes into long involved details about the inadequacies of his marriage, about how his wife will never do oral sex, and only does boring straight missionary very infrequently.

I can see where this is leading to. But he's polite and respectful, he's treating me to a very pleasant evening, and he's more than a little sad. I think 'what the hell, what's a sympathy blow-job' cost? It's no big deal. I've always been the guy who ends up with the cock in my mouth anyway. It's always been that way. So once we get back in his car I reach down and unzip his fly. He's so breathless as soon as I fumble his cock out I think he's going to cum straight away. So I dip my head down, get it between my lips and began sucking him. He's holding the steering wheel tight, and going 'oh god, oh god, oh god' in a most amusing fashion as I take his erection deeper into my mouth and slurp more intensely.

He's not as sexually big as Glenn, and nowhere near as good at fucking my face. His hips go up and down, thrusting into my throat, but just as a reflex action, I do all the blow-job work, squirming round, folding his pants back so I can reach in and caress his balls. And far too soon for my liking, before I've really had chance to enjoy his cock, he's going 'stop, stop, stop' and trying to pull my head away, but I'm determined not to be cheated of my reward. I thought he was gonna have a heart-attack when he starts spurting into my mouth, groaning and squirming.

When I eventually lift my head he's close to sobbing, saying 'I'm sorry' and offers me his crumpled handkerchief. I tell him truthfully that I've swallowed it, and not to worry, I enjoyed it. He's scared stiff in case his wife finds out. He makes me promise I'll never tell Glenn about it. Which I haven't, so far, unless he reads this...

(2) THE SEX-ADDICTION CLINIC

So yes, I strive, in my own humble way, to make the world a better and happier place, one blow-job at a time... But I do wonder if it's possible to acquire spunk-addiction...?

This thought was prompted by cruising through these memories of past encounters... such a cornucopia of delicious cocks, yes, I admit, I contentedly suck each and every one of them, never fully satisfied until I've gratefully enjoyed the spermy fruits of that cock-sucking spurting and gushing down my greedy throat.

Yes, I've had good friends who allow me this pleasure on a regular basis. I'm happily reconciled to being a submissive cock-sucker. But is it possible to become addicted? That no matter how many cocks you orally worship, you still crave more? The thing about good sex is that the more you get, the more you crave. It's a drug. I'm certain spunk has narcotic properties, so that when I swallow a big greedy mouthful at the culmination of giving a deep satisfying blow-job, its effect enters my bloodstream like fire, courses down my spine to target my tight balls, tingles along the quivering length of my hot cock so that its urgency consumes all logical thought, and all I can think of is the raging need to get hard-fucked some more. This is the truth of it. It's no use fighting it, when you need cock you've just got to have cock...

But at the same time, I was getting worried, maybe things are getting out of control? So I make enquiries about an addiction clinic. It seems uncomplicated and anonymous. I turn up more than a little nervous and uncertain. But there's a room, and there's four guys, all around my own age. I sit and wait my turn. They get up and confess details of their various substance-abuse issues and anger-management problems, which puts me at my ease. First names, no compromising personal details. When they're done I stand up and in a faltering voice admit my addiction to submissive gay sex. The number of men I've had humiliating oral sex with, and my uncontrollable compulsion to give fellatio. They nod and make reassuring noises.

We break for coffee. In a small kitchen side-room I find 'Mark' standing beside the cafetiere, waiting for it to deliver. We stand awkwardly. Then he reaches out, hand on my shoulder. He says 'I respect what you did in there. It can't have been easy.' His hand moves down my arm, and gently he redirects me to his crotch, pressing it so I feel the outline of his hard-on through his pants. He says 'We're here to help each other, in any way we can,' as he unzips. I try to fight it, but the moment my fingers touch his warm cock I'm lost, squeezing it gently I begin wanking his foreskin up and down.

He smiles reassuringly, 'no pressure, but if it helps you with your problem, you can suck it.' I smile back, my legs seem to fold up beneath me, and almost without realizing it, I've surrendered, it's not the biggest cock I've ever had, but it's hot and reassuringly firm in my mouth. Midway there's a sound behind us - a second guy, 'John' is there. 'Oh sorry, I just came for sugar.' He reaches across as I'm sucking, my head bobbing up and down in Mark's groin, and leaves us before Mark gets into breathing heavy, his hips making little involuntary thrusting motions into my face, and he starts spunking-off into my mouth.

I'm quiet and a mite embarrassed for the rest of the session, conscious of Mark's complacent smirk, and the taste of his cock. As the meeting breaks up, John offers me a lift home. He seems pleasant enough so I accept. He pulls up outside my apartment. 'I couldn't help seeing you with Mark, I'm sorry' he says.

I invite him in for a coffee, sitting across from him in my room. 'You're not into gay sex?' I ask.

'No, not really, but I've often wondered what it'd be like.'

He looks so attractively bashful I can't help but respond. Soon we're both naked, he's got a slim body and a nice hard cock, bigger than Mark's, and cleanly cut, we sixty-nine on the bed deliciously. He's so enthusiastically good at sucking me I'm seriously doubting his claim to be a cock-virgin. Then we arch around and he fucks my bottom in long assured strokes that has me groaning with pleasure. Afterwards we lie together, I bend down, lick his cock and he cums in my mouth, then he tosses me off.

He stays the night and we wake up together. I kiss his cock. He says 'I guess you won't be going to the next meeting?'

I say 'sure I'm going.' Thinking, of course I'm going, there's two other guys there I've not had sex with yet...

By Tristan Trotsky