As the months passed, I was summoned to Donnie's house two or three times a week. I was extremely pleased that he, apparently, liked the way I serviced him, but I took nothing for granted. He had my phone number and when he called, I'd better be ready to drop everything and come to him. Sometimes, I would be woken from sleep in the wee hours, have to dress in a hurry, and be there ASAP or he'd get moody. At those times, he would be pretty high, and, when in that state, he often had a short fuse. I took a dressing-down or two from him on such occasions if he thought I'd taken too long getting there. Not that that mattered to me. Though it shamed me somewhat, I enjoyed being put in my place by him.
One night in particular stands out in my memory. Donnie had called at about 4AM.
"Get your face over here, fagboy. I want to fuck it." he said into the phone, then hung up.
I called a cab, but it took some time arriving. It was a half hour before I got to Donnie's. He answered the door. His eyes were dilated, and I could smell alcohol.
"What did you do? Take a tour of the goddamn city on the way over?" he said. "Fucking bitch. Get your loser ass up to my room. I gotta take a piss." He mumbled.
I entered his room and waited. I wished I could be there beside him to watch him urinate, and to hear his stream pound into the toilet.
When he came into the room, I went down onto my knees. This was routine for me. It was one of Donnie's rules.
"So what took you so fucking long, cocksucker?"
"I'm sorry, Sir. The taxi..."
"Shut up." he said as he undid his belt.
"Man! I haven't been this horny in a long time." he said, as he let his pants drop to the floor. "Whew! Can't wait to blow this load off."
He stumbled some, his feet getting tangled in his pants.
"Come over here and take off my shoes, fag." he ordered.
"Yes, sir." I said.
I hurried over on my knees, very eager to do whatever it took to be holding Donnie's warm cock between my lips once again. I bent to the task of unlacing his shoes. He steadied himself by putting his hand on my head. Once his shoes were removed, he could easily step out of his pants. I folded them neatly, placing them on a chair.
When I turned to him, Donnie had already removed his underwear - in this case, blue and white striped boxers - and had hung them on the end of his erection. He began to walk around the room, his hard-on and his boxer shorts preceding him. Donnie enjoyed parading himself in front of me in this way. He liked watching my reaction to it.
Well, seeing the man of my dreams strutting around his room with a full-on erection and his shorts hanging from the tip of his cock had no small effect on me! I was practically drooling onto the floor. God, but he was beautiful!And he knew it.
He just left me kneeling there, acting as if i didn't exist. He stopped to light a cigarette, then picked up a magazine and began leafing through it. All the while, the boxer shorts swayed suspended in front of him. At one point, he arranged it so that the head of the cock emerged through the fly of his shorts.
"He's the lookout." Donnie said, pivoting so that the 'lookout' could scan the room.
"He's on the hunt for cocksuckers." Donnie said. "And... and..., I think... yes, yes, he sees one! There's a hungry cocksucking faggot in the room. Right... over... here." Donnie said as he slowly walked over to me.
My heart beat wildly as he drew nearer.
"How about a kiss, fella?" Donnie said, bringing the shrouded cock within inches of my face. My eyes were riveted to the swelled purple head that presented itself through the fabric of the shorts. It hung through the pee hole like a ripe plum.