It Maes Me Happy

It was perfectly obvious our secret was safe and the next thing to do was to finally be naked. It still felt too good to be true, dangerous, impossible. I could tell he thought something the same.

We had masterfully arranged it all. Our desperate need for this didn't go down one bit when I had first made him cum. Our hunger made us think, conspire, agree, pledge, and plan.

And now here we were, in a dry lab, me allegedly his intern, and the boringness of the subject to most people meant that the annex of a mobile with a lounge, kitchenette, bathroom, and shower (for cyclists I guess) was utterly unpopulated.

I had arrived with a bag of extra toiletries, soap, shampoo, everything, so that I would leave smelling like I always smelled, not smelling like this older man and not smelling like I had been 'exercising'. The paperwork was in, the paperwork of my flawless excuse to be very alone with this man once a week. It helped to be smart enough to accomplish everything faster than people know you can: I wasn't interning AT ALL, I just happened to be smart enough to know the subject anyways.

Despite our isolation and everyone's disinterest in the building, we had locked the door and put a chair against its handle just to treat our justified paranoia with gentle care.

And so, in this boring and hateful little world, I now could easily earn myself hours every week of filthy joy. Theoretically.

Here we were, fast-blinking, heavy-breathing, blushing, and obvious in our need. Neither of ours pants allowed us any subtlety with each other. We had made it to a big old sofa, dusty and broken in but so comfy and broad.

He sat near the corner, and I was sitting beside him now, feet under my bum in a polite little kneel facing him. We let ourselves watch each other's badly hidden erections and I was now slow-blinking at him, smiling at him.

"This just feels too good to be true, y'know? Like, you come here, for... what we talked about? What do you get out of this?"

I gaped at him, surprised. Trying not to be a little offended, and gradually accepting it as flattery.

Offended because he apparently didn't notice the extent of what doing this did to me, for me. Flattered because this was obviously more than worth it to him.

Flashback:

We had traps in common. I was trapped in what's called an education desert, only able to live and get the degree I wanted from one of a few institutions that demanded absolute Christian purity. Mr. Rudolph was trapped in a comphet marriage, where they both accepted the ritual of marrying the opposite sex and buying a home, until she resolved without the language to describe it she was strongly asexual.

We were trapped in identical obligations to enjoy our unhappiness. For ten years I knew, with desperate fervour, how much I would enjoy giving a blowjob to a man. Just specifically that. Just theoretically, as a fantastical little possibility in the distance. Because of the beauty of penises, and the fun it seemed to play with them. He knew he was turned on specifically by men, and his whole erotic landscape was about naked men and touching them.

Trapped.

It was a terrible and dangerous accident that had first made us see catch each other. We didn't notice the pool's hottub had changed settings and the frothing bubbles were suddenly far less shielding. We didn't notice it suddenly wasn't safe that we each were very stealthily giving ourselves precious moments of teasing masturbation to relieve ourselves of the moment of seeing men go by, the precious fractions of a second when someone's more revealing trunks showed a flash of ballsack or an outline of something large and delightfully challenging.

We saw each other in the same moment. Dashing our hands away made it worse, because what we could have pretended was a scratch was replaced with two very very obvious erections in our bathing suits. We looked at each other's flushing faces before looking away. We couldn't safely leave the awkward situation until we were bored enough to put each of our penises to sleep, so we were beside each other until I knew his natural scent and he knew mine.

It didn't help that a bit of time later we saw each other in the changing room just in the wrong moment when our erections were back. I was even trying to will myself back to sleep with a few mollifying strokes when no one was there. We walked away again, pretending everything was normal.

I didn't even change, I left in my now-drying swimsuit, and so I was damp and heaving in the shade of a hot day hiding where the back of the building met trees. And fuck it, once again he was there. And we froze again long enough for us to actually earn erections.

The mutual humiliation was healing. There was no possible way I wasn't in front of someone who associated me with desire. He was older than me, with a soft tummy, balding just a bit, friendly face, and his scandal-erection, now hiding badly, looked just astonishing.

For an hour, we had proceeded with the most dangerous moment of our lives. Unable to deny it, unable to walk awkwardly away anymore, unable to secure a safe plan. Something absolutely desperate and pleading about our erections made us move towards each other; and then, almost touching, our desire moved us to a new location, but only to the space between three nearby pine trees, trees so bushy at the base we were almost in a tent. But in no way truly invisible.

It was there that we began our first desperate fondles of each other, seeing our need in each other's eyes, understanding wordlessly, starting only for a moment with our own erections before it felt impossible not to switch and find each other. It was there that, him not knowing how to proceed, I did a double-take and conspiratorially slid down his underwear.

In that unfathomably stupid moment that could have ruined either of our livelihoods, I knelt and gasped. I gaped and fawned at the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, before I brought myself to actually dare to truly hold it. Its skin was so smooth, and in the sunlight something at the top of its crown of its foreskin sparkled, it bowed gently along its towering height, and I didn't even know testicles could be pretty but they were so pretty.

And then, while he gaped down at me, unbelieving, I impatiently but giddily taught myself what it was to bring a penis into a mouth.

It was far bigger than my jaw could have guessed, but I adjusted, and beyond the taste of pool chlorine (which now and forevermore is my most arousing association, inconveniently) was the taste of something absolutely wonderful that for the moment I was too impatient to calm down and truly investigate.

My suspicions and hopes and wishes were all fulfilled beyond what I thought could be real. In that moment my shivering horny eager curiosity transitioned into a kind of patient trance.

The only thing that convinced me to take this penis head back out of me was my sense of adventure and need for those pretty balls beneath. I lasted for long moments down there, shocked at the salt down below and equally unable to end the moment. But I stared up at the lovely penis above me, in view of the shocked and delirious face beyond, and finally I needed to return. And there I stayed.

It wasn't my most graceful work, though what we found in each other saved my life. Sheer joy and need got me through the moment, though I watched so closely for signs about how to do this right. And whatever he must have been feeling doomed him not to last long in this moment, and all his whispered warnings about what was approaching made me look up just long enough to confirm he wasn't warning me that a stranger was approaching.

Once I figured out what he was really warning me, my eyes widened, and a smiling mouth opened for him and took him as deeply in as possible, out and in and out and in.

Soon enough the taste and the feel changed, starkly. It took me a moment to realise that's actually what had happened. All I could think to do was the obvious, and as his pumps were replaced with a thrust deep inside I gulped and gulped and gulped and hoped my tongue and lips were still doing something nice, never knowing whether I would make it.

And the liquid stopped being replaced. And, still deep inside my mouth, we looked at each other, shocked.

I could swallow?

More to the point................ I just swallowed? I just gave a blowjob? I'm tasting a penis right now? Without the anticipation of what I wanted, I realised the full seriousness and ridiculousness and the stupidity of what I was daring.

Making us have secrets makes joy a terrible risk. And yet? I had just drank an orgasm. Life was for the moment beautiful.

I could make a man cum. I was pretty good at swallowing, and I had found a new favourite hobby.

Afterwards, there was no walking away for us. Even though eventually we were completely spent and unable to give each other anything more, we already knew there was no life without that act happening again, and again, and again, and again. I had whispered, in alarmed pleasure, how much I enjoyed doing that. And he whispered, barely able to stand, that he did too.

I didn't know whether my joy was for this penis or every penis, and I got the impression I wouldn't need to know for a long time.

So we needed a true conspiracy. Within a few minutes, we had worked out together that he occasionally hired clerical interns in biblical manuscript research. Something I already (unfortunately) knew a lot about, and which he didn't actually need help with right now.

And suddenly, with a tiny bit of paperwork, two trapped men had a couple of hours, regularly, to be very alone together in unsuspicious and praiseworthy circumstances.

So here we were, a week later, alone, and though I could again feel the delicious tension in the air, and I was slowly beginning to feel in my bones that (despite the company) it was truly safe to be aroused, Mr. Rudolph (it was somehow fun to keep calling him that) had asked me a stunning question: why I wanted this.

I blinked. And I started a speech I didn't know I had in me.

"What's in it for me? What am I getting out of this? Hold on. I think you've misunderstood. I think you've seriously misunderstood, and I'm surprised you haven't noticed."

Mr. Rudolph looked nervous, and I needed to catch him from withdrawing fast.

"Okay, listen really carefully, okay? I'm not here doing some favour for you. Your penis makes me so, so happy."

As I watched his transforming surprised face I smiled, stood up again, and put my jacket, shoes, and socks somewhere away. I was about to sit down again, but then made a decision, and took off my shirt, pants, and underwear in the same little pile.

I knelt again beside him, my erection now on display and pointed right at what I wanted. I let my instinct to be scared of this exposure fuel me.

"It's beautiful. Like seriously, it's the loveliest thing. And it tastes amazing. And seeing it makes me an even hornier version of myself. And taking something half that beautiful into my mouth is what I've wanted for years and years."

"And when I kneel between your legs and do my new favourite hobby, it starts tasting even better. And I get to know that what I do to you is making you happy enough to make candy for me to drink. And that's just the taste at the beginning. When I taste you enough, and play with you enough, you suddenly give me this amazing, perfect gift, and I get to drink it and I get to watch you watch me drink it."

I transferred from the couch and got on my knees in front of him, between his knees. As he gaped. The knees on either side of my head trembled a little.

"And that's why I'm surprised: last week, when I was surprised by how much I liked it, when I realised that I'm not just fulfilling a horny need but getting a reward I love, you didn't see how happy I was? The happy moans when I realised how salty your whole penis is? The sound I made when I realised your balls taste even better? The fun I had when I made you slippery and jacked off the tiny bit I couldn't reach?"

Together, him with a little more trepidation than me, we took off his pants and underwear. And I continued my little speech. I could feel my pupils were huge.

"The proud grin on my face when I realised that what just happened was cum and that it was nowhere? That it was gone? The fact that when you had an aftershock I claimed it? That I'm good at swallowing and that I found that out with the most gorgeous penis that probably exists? Fred. Listen. We found each other! We turned accidentally finding out each other's secret into the smartest thing we've ever done. You came up with the perfect excuse to keep our secret, the perfect lie to bring us here, again and again, in this place alone, without anyone expecting it, where I can get naked and then give a beautiful penis a blowjob. I can't believe how lucky I am that I get to do that!"

I watched his penis become truly steeled for me, proud and tall and lovely, with pretty curves and what I knew to be truly silky foreskin and an even silkier scrotum.

"We get to have sex! And I am so, so happy that I'm where you want your cum to go. Into my happy mouth. I've never done anything like this before. Just dreamt. I've dreamt so much about this. So did you think I was just really talented? Because I think the reason you feel so good when I lick you is because I'm so happy."

I softly, softly pet the shaft, and the balls, and watched it dance a little for me. And he said,

"You really feel like all that? I've wanted this my whole life. And when I - god I can't believe I'm admitting this out loud - when I jack off, I think about someone doing exactly what you did, and it feels selfish, it feels unrealistic, because in real life they want something in return, right? Like you left happy even though I didn't finish you. That made you happy?"

"Your penis is so lovely. I love it. And it has to mean something that earning your cum and drinking it makes so happy. There's something there. And it has to mean something that just wanting me makes you produce candy for me to lick. My mouth is exactly where you're meant to be. So stop thinking about transactions. Accept that you deserve this touch, accept that your cum is your gift to me, accept that earning it is my favourite thing in the world to do. Accept that we're in a beautiful room, with no one else here, and whenever we're here you get to give your penis to someone who will thank you for cumming. So, Mr. Rudolph, neighbour? Do you have a treat for me?"

I knew he had one, I saw the little pool of slick gleam in the little sunlight that reached the couch, and (with far more nervousness than I was showing, even after everything) I moved forward and watched the silent Yes in his eyes carefully as my lips approached the shaft.

I resisted licking this time. For the next while, I did everything I did asking myself what I would do knowing in my heart there was no hurry and no secret. When each separated lip made first contact with the slick foreskin, my gentle nuzzling back and forth coated my lips in him like lipstick. I let my lips slide softly around him, gathering all this fluid up, and I could feel it web my lips together and web my lips to his beautiful head as I slathered with my little fairy-kisses.

Finally, finally, softly, gradually, I let my tongue rediscover him, and the added element of taste to my horny worship (it could only be called that) almost defeated my patience and strategy in one moment. I continued my soft little kisses, but that first taste led further onto him in one initial indulgent open-mouth drinking kiss.

Mr. Rudolph seemed to also let his instincts take him. His sighs became happier every moment until he took grip of the couch arm and lifted himself. I don't think he even knew exactly why he stood, he just seemed to know that something even more fulsome would happen with this angle of access.

I reveled in how much of a cliche I must look, as my naked kneeling form corrected its height to align with an erection and my face fawned in impatient happiness upwards. I was simultaneously so grateful and for the instant so confident as I knew in my bones what I represented was the foremost dream of many millions of needy penises.

I fulfilled my stereotype as I broke my smile to shape my mouth into something that could receive a large amount of cock and give it the softest slipperiest landing it could. I paid close attention to only his first surprised moan of upgraded fulfilment before I paid attention to what I truly adored. I softly wrapped both sets of fingers completely around the base, and I followed his silent but obvious needs about when to gently stroke, when to massage the testicles with fairy touches, and when to simply point the shaft towards me for a more perfect gulp.

The shaft slowly pumping deep in and out of me relayed so much information to me, with its twitches, relubrications, shape-changes, and moments without movement. I was so new to all of this, porn and fantasy doing nothing to prepare me for what truly makes a penis happy, much less a particular penis, and now it was teaching me, mentoring me, requesting of me, and I worked rapidly to apprentice in this man's orgasm, to make it the loveliest thing I could when it next came.

Every few moments, something I had done had done something so lovely to this shaft, that it froze the moment and stayed there, and the world halted except for a pulsing twitch of curved meat inside my mouth.

The third time he froze the world, his kick-back out of my mouth was followed by an instinctual sitting back down. This time he remained at the edge of the couch and leaning a little back, which bared to me and the room whatever part of him I could possibly want.

My mouth needily followed him, never more than a couple inches away, and once he had settled, I hoarsely whispered, "I'm so happy," before bringing a wide-open mouth and soaked tongue to accept the perfect curve at the bottom of his ballsack inside. I hummed enjoyment as I tasted sharp salt and my minutes-old drool. As its shape transformed (in pleasure I'm sure) in my mouth I enjoyed its new form all over again, aroused by each of the shapes the beautiful thing formed.

I could hear the need in his voice, a desire I was only making worse with my happy tease, and I was happy his hunger for me was foremost in his mind. For the moment, his body acted like it deserved my mouth.

Finally, I let myself crawl rapidly back onto the couch, beside him, and was now looking down at the penis from the other end.

Rotating my body to reach him, I whispered once again, "I'm so happy" before resting my chest on his tummy and engulfing his shaft once more. As usual, first slow to taste what I had earned so far, and then deep and strong in what probably felt like humps to a cock.

I could feel that I was probably doing something impressively acrobatic to my legs to prop myself at just the right angle, and so his wandering hands found me. He didn't quite masturbate me as much as study the shape of me, experimenting with pumps and squeezes, until he found a certain twisting little pump that made me hum in needy delight, filled me more with drool, and pump him more sweetly.

He was actually using my penis as a power button, and he had turned me up.

I had barely been registering how adamant Mr. Rudolph's panting had gotten, just that the sugar from inside him was coming more swiftly now and his testicles were shoring up tightly, but all of a sudden, just at the moment I had hoped I would get my reward, he gently took hold of me under the jaw and gently placed me beside him instead of below him.

In his excitement he found and held me, my shaft and balls held completely in large hands, pointing me up and out, and replacing his hand with his mouth as he siphoned my own desperate arousal from me.