Mouth Meet Coc

This is the true recounting of the first time a man's cock ever touched the inside of my mouth, with as much detail and in-the-moment sexual chronology as I can remember twelve years later. I have made no embellishments to make it a more exciting read. This is as it happened.

It was in the summer of 2004, a few months after my separation and bifurcation of assets from my cheating ex-wife of thirteen years. The divorce actually came four years later, not because of any attempts at reconciliation, but because we were both getting on with our lives and were lax about it.

Ours was an all too familiar story: I was the sole breadwinner, working long hours in sales to support the fixer-upper home we bought, and to provide a good standard of living for us. I don't know when she started cheating, but eventually she started fucking the contractor who put in our new bathroom.

Once confronted, she gave an age-old excuse: "You're never home, and I get lonely."

She was a free lance consultant who took only one job after we were married, then stopped working completely. We made no agreement that this would happen, and it became a sore point for me, but I just went about my work. More and more, she withheld sex for the smallest reasons, basically as a method of trying to assume control in the relationship.

After a while, I stopped asking. One factor which helped me do this, and I'm not saying this to be mean, but as a fact: she was not very good in bed. She had a sexual adventurousness quotient of zero. Funny how when the ring goes on the finger it must squeeze really hard on the nerve that controls the desire to give blowjobs. In return for her oral disinterest, I stopped trying to forge my way into that overgrown Amazon Rain Forest she had down there.

I NEVER cheated. I masturbated to online porn a lot, which included more and more of those forbidden practices, in which I'd always fostered a secret interest: bisexual, transgender and gay subject matter (she never caught me watching it). Eventually, she started fucking the guy we hired to put in a new bathroom for us. To tell the truth, it was the lying rather than the sex that upset me. By then, I really didn't want her anymore (she had always been an extremely manipulative bitch-on-wheels), and as mercenary as this sounds, I was waiting for property values to rise, as we were underwater throughout the nineties, so I could leave with a profit.

I know what you're thinking: When does the gay blowjob story start?

Now.

After I moved into my new digs, I joined two sexual hookup sites, both of which featured a substantial bisexual and gay population. After a few months of just hanging out and window-shopping, I decided to jump in, thinking that I was forty-nine, and if I didn't do this now, I never would. It was time to live the lifestyle and see if it really does suit me.

I found a man that lived not too far from me, and we traded emails a few times (I just don't like to chat), then we did phone sex. At first, the nasty tele-talk was hot, new and exciting. I was very into it.

I loved moaning into his ear through the phone, "You stroking that big hard cock for me, baby? What are you gonna do with it? You fucking my mouth? Hold my head, and fuck me down my throat, baby! Pull out when you come, I want you to shoot your cum all over my face."

I didn't take long before that wasn't enough, but just talking to another man that way bolstered my resolve to do it for real. We made a plan to meet one weekday morning. Being in mortgage sales at the time, I could come and go as I pleased, so we set it for eleven in the morning at his apartment. I've since learned to get together somewhere neutral the first meeting, but at the time, I was new at it. Fortunately, he wasn't weird, and definitely not an ax-murderer (not that murder by another means would be better).

Through our communiques, we had established that he had no desire to be on either side of man to man anal sex, so I accepted the fact that I would lose my various gay virginities in increments, not all in one sitting. I drove to his apartment on Burbank Boulevard, right across from Balboa Park, flushed and eager to give my first blowjob. What made me think to write this is that I just found myself driving past there a couple of days ago. I'm sure he's gone, and it's not a route I usually take, but I glanced up at the window that used to be his, and started reliving the events that took place there.

On the day, I buzzed his apartment, and heard his familiar voice.

"Hello?"

I answered, "Hi Steve, it's Todd."

The names have been changed to protect the cocksuckers.

He directed me take the second walkway to the left and go to the first door on the left, and the gate clicked open. My breath was coming in short, nervous gasps, so I took three deep ones to calm myself down. I knocked and the door opened immediately. I was relieved to see him in the flesh. I'd only seen cock and body pics, but he was good looking, and although he wore a tank top and gym shorts, his body was as slim as his naked photos (WHEW!! I've since learned that for some people, the camera seems to subtract many pounds from their actual present day physicality).

He stood aside, smiled, and motioned me in with a sweep of his arm. I don't remember what small talk we made for a few minutes, but we sat side by side on his couch with him on my left. He told me he was in Real Estate and worked a lot from home, and asked if I minded that he had one quick call to make. Not a problem.

It was brief, something about an open house, and while he was talking, my mind was whipping through a frenzied stream of consciousness.

"Oh God! I'm here now, what do I do? can't back out oh my god what's going to happen now is it cold in here I'm trembling shit what the fuck have I gotten myself into I don't wanna back out but what do I do????... fuck it just do it."

I slid my hand over and placed it on the top of his thigh, still too timid to actually caress or rub him. He was definitely more experienced and forthright in his desires, and he slithered his own hand into my lap, smoothing over the surface of my clad penis. Almost as a knee-jerk reaction, my legs parted, and he was assertively fondling my cock through my shorts, gently exploring me, his hand sensuously roaming over my slowly stiffening dick.

"Whew!" I thought.

I wasn't sure if turning my fantasy into reality would embarrass me by not being able to get it up due to nervousness. Porn is one thing, real life is another, but I was excited and my own Mr. Happy was standing up to meet my new friend. I inched my hand to his package and stroked with the flat of my palm. It felt wonderful, but it was limp.

My nerves were talking to me: "Oh no! what if I can't get him hard, what if I don't turn him on enough to get an erection? Oh my God, I'm going to be humiliated!"

But he quickly ended his call and removed his hand from my lap. I was by then incapable of forming a coherent sentence, so I said nothing and waited to see what he would do next. He lifted his ass up off the sofa, hooked his thumbs into his shorts. I removed my hand from his crotch as the shorts traversed under it to fall past his bent knees to his ankles, and there it was.

His dick was about four to five inches soft, completely unshaven: an old-fashioned bushy-bush-bush. I looked down and all the chatter in my head evaporated. I went into auto-mode, snaked my palm around it, and if I could articulate my thoughts in that moment, it would have been something about damning the torpedoes and proceeding full speed ahead.

In reality, my thoughts were more much more caveman basic, "Me here, cock here, cock good, me suck now."

I scooted my butt back a little, leaned down and twisted into position. I brought his cock head up as my face glided down and in one smooth motion I opened my mouth wide and sucked the whole thing in.

BAM! Here we are - my plane has just landed in Cocksuckerville!

I'd like to retell how I was already an expert fellator, as I had practiced on a dildo, but all those rehearsed moves went out the window once I actually had a real live dick in my mouth. This was my first blowjob and I really only had one move: I sucked very very hard and moved my mouth up and down very, very fast. I was at the genesis of developing my skills. My training wheels were off, and I was wobbling along, trying not to fall off the bike.

It DID work, however, and on this afternoon of firsts, I heard my first moan of appreciation, and even more memorable, I felt the first stroke of a man's hand on my head, just inches above and outside the first penis to displace any part of my anatomy. As much as i could think anything, I reveled in my first feeling of power as his soft cock began to engorge. That first amazing sensation of a dick growing, hardening inside my mouth, due only to my enthusiastic, albeit sophomoric, clumsy oral ministrations.

As I made mouth love to his now extremely rigid fuckstick, which had grown to about six or seven inches within the private confines of my naughty oral cavity, I began to come around to cognitive thought about my actions. I became more aware of covering my teeth with my lips, and even started to do that porn style twisty-neck thing a little, imitating porn actors and actresses I had seen doing exactly what I myself was now doing.

As my situational awareness improved, I felt awkward leaning over and contorting from my position sitting next to him. Somehow I kept my lip-lock and slithered down onto my knees, facing him and his widely splayed legs, a classic position I would come to love. I knelt at the altar of his cock, resting my ass on my ankles, and got down to it, fellating him with gusto.

The chattering in my head resumed: "Oh my God! This is it! This is a real cock in my mouth, I'm a cocksucker, I'm sucking cock, this is so fucking awesome, I'm licking around under the head, I taste something, flesh, precum, I'm so nasty, I'm sucking this guy's cock, is he moaning, he's moaning, what am I doing, how do I do this, just suck harder, I'm sucking cock..."

I really felt like I was swept around in a swirling eddy of emotions, and the only thing I could do in all this self-imposed confusion was to suck, to blow my new friend, surrendering to the Zen of the situation:

"It is only me, my mouth, and this cock. My world is merely this and nothing else. Right here, right now, only this blowjob matters. I must do well. I need to please him. It is imperative that I perform well. It is imperative that this man is happy with me. He is!! This dick in my mouth is hard as a rock. I did it! He's hard! I'm sucking cock and doing it well. Suck the cock suck the cock suck the cock..."

While my neck powered my fellatio, and the tightly concave configuration of my cheeks around his stiffy elicited more and deeper moans, I became more cognizant of my actions. His hardness allowed me to suck it without holding it up. It occurred to me that the reward for giving good head is that you don't have to hold the base of the penis in order to keep it in your mouth, and that whole 'idle hands are the devil's workshop' philosophy, led me first to tug down the waistband of my shorts and underwear together, wiggle them down, while using the toes of one foot to ease the strap of the opposing sandal down, kicking first one off, then the other.

That done, I slithered my shorts all the way off, while not missing a stroke of my first given blowjob. I was a little prideful of my actions: I was becoming a true faggot multi-tasker! Once my lower body was completely bare, I widened my kneeling stance, so that, had there been another man behind me, he would have seen an undeniably open invitation to fuck my ass. My dick pointed straight out, and I just felt so nasty.

I sucked hard, in and out, as I crossed my hands across the front of my waist, gripping the bottom hem of my shirt on both sides. I steeled myself for the move, determined to be as smooth a lover as I could be, and popped my face off his cock, looked him in the eye, and whisked my shirt up and off, flinging it across the room.

I was now completely nude, kneeling between this man's legs, and quickly reacquired that rigid object of my affections. As I fellated him with renewed vigor, I allowed my hands to roam up his body, under the hem of his tank top, which he quickly removed and tossed aside.

It seemed nastier to slide my hands up his hairy chest and caress his pecs than actually swallowing his dick, the intimate familiarity somehow more forbidden than the hardcore. I think a lot of bisexual men feel this at first: we fantasize about a disembodied cock in our mouths, but not about sensuously interacting with the man himself. I tweaked his erect nipples, pinched them, and I remembered a move that had always drawn intense reactions from women. I flattened all of my fingers straight out, and fanned them back and forth over each nipple, causing four strokes, four fleeting moments of contact in quick succession for each pass. He seemed to like that.

I love men's hairy chests and finding that little island of naked nipple within that sea of soft curls, which is certainly not to say I don't feel the same excitement visiting my touch upon a smooth body: they're all good, just different (viva la difference!).

This was another clear signpost that I had arrived at the junction of my new life. I was kneeling naked between his legs, perform enthusiastic fellatio, feeling both the soft epidermis and hard center of the first penis to breach any part of my body, coupled with my arms stretched up, caressing his nipples, exploring his masculine body. I was loving every second of it.

I had not slowed down in my piston-like sucking, and I was learning to slaver my tongue around his cock as it traversed the inside of my mouth. After about five minutes (although I really had no clear sense of time at the moment), he cupped his hands on each side of my head and gently lifted me off. I looked up at his face, which was slightly flushed, and felt disappointed, as if he had taken the candy from the baby, and the baby was me.

He smiled in that uniquely lascivious way men do when they're receiving a blow job, and said, "I want to suck your cock now."

This was almost like a surprise, and strangely, for the first time in my life, I really didn't give a shit about getting my cock sucked. But, of course, a selfish lover is ultimately a lonely lover, so I gave his helmet a last kiss, butterflied my tongue across his meatus as a parting shot, and rose. I straddled him, my knees on the outsider of his thighs as he stayed seated, leaning back on the couch, and knee-walked my stiff cock to his face, Oh how I love to see both men and women as a penis nears their face, the way the lips part, the mouth opening in anticipation.

I widened my knees, planting them on either side of him, straddling him, as his tongue darted out to lick the underside of my cock head. My dick was as hard as it had ever been in my life as he engulfed the helmet with his lips, He was much more experienced than me, and performed a mind-blowing nibbling, sucking motion on just the head, simultaneously licking that spot on the underside of my cock where the head meets the shaft. Technically called the frenulum, I prefer to think of it as my 'friendulum', because it is, if nothing else, especially open to friendship, and is the most sensitive spot on my penis.

This lips-tongue soft chewing motion threw wicked sensations into every part of me, from my penis to my brain, spreading pre-orgasmic bliss throughout my body. These pleasure spikes even made my nipples tingle. Although my thoughts were fairly incoherent, I do recall specifically tagging that motion as a technique I must master, and in fact I would begin my practice of it within just a very few minutes.

Steve knew just when to back off of these particular ministrations as much more of this nibble-licking could have easily brought me to orgasm. He inhaled hard, sliding his clenching mouth quickly down to the base and held it there, his tight, vise-like lips massaging both my cock and the soft, shaved flesh covering my pubic bone. He was amazingly expert at this as he expanded his previous nibble-sucking action to include my entire penis. My head intruded into his throat as he used the inside of his mouth like an undulating snake performing a wave around my shaft.

I had never known a woman who could give a blowjob as good as this man (and I have received some pretty good blowjobs - with the exception of my ex-wife). I brought both my hands to the sides of his head, stroking his lightly graying hair, smoothing across his skull, tilting my own head back, freely letting my moans of pleasure fill the room.

" Oh, fuck, man... that's so fucking good."

He melded his actions seamlessly from lips clenched at the base into the classic template of up and down cock sucking. This guy LOVED sucking dick, and it showed! I looked down, at first marveling at his techniques, thinking to examine what he was doing and learn from it.

He made my cock feel things I had never felt before, and soon my mind reverted to a primordial mush of pleasure - now is NOT the time to take notes. Now was the time to embrace the nasty. I settled into his rhythm, his head bobbing and weaving on, his hands slithering around my waist, descending down to cup my ass cheeks, pulling me in and out of his mouth. He was now bringing me to him, making me face fuck him.

His nastiness fed my nastiness, and I cupped his head in my hands, widened my legs and skull fucked him hard. I wanted it to be as lewd as I could get it, and I fucked his mouth like a melon, moaning:

"Oh, yeah... suck my dick! Take my fucking dick, baby!"

He took it like a champ, this was not uncharted waters he was sailing in, he was well versed in face fucking. I felt no teeth, and to be honest, It felt better than a pussy, and I fucking pounded him. He performed like a whirling dervish, his tongue slavering atround my cock at what must have been a hundred miles per hour, considering how rapidly I was jack-hammering his mouth.

It didn't take long before those warm, tingling feelings took hold at the base of my penis, and seeped upward. I knew that if they reached to top of my dick, I would come, and I didn't want to yet. I pulled out, with an audible POP, and sat down on his lap, his rigid tool poking at my hole. He looked at me with concern. I knew he didn't want any fucking, so I rolled off of him in a controlled tumble to the carpet, where I came to rest on my back.

I lay there panting, my legs spread wide, my rod pointing straight up. I guess I looked pretty inviting, because he slid down and straddled my face, rubbing his hardon across my cheeks. I tracked it with my mouth, acquired the target and inhaled it all the way down to my throat, sucked it deeply a few moments, then let it fall away.

Looking up his body, I urged him on, "Come on baby, fuck my face."

Like he needed an invitation. He assumed a push-up position and I barely had enough time to tuck my teeth behind my lips when he started fucking my throat fast and hard. About the top two inches of him continuously blocked and unblocked my windpipe, allowing me only tiny gasps of air, but it was enough, and as he savagely fucked my mouth, I could hear myself making almost absurd sounds as I grabbed those breaths.

It probably sounded ridiculous in retrospect, but at the time it was very very sexy. Everything was sexy. I tried to mimic the throaty undulations that he had done for my pleasure just scant moments before. I hate to admit it, but it was clumsy, it fucked up my breathing and I choked, coughing all over his cock. He quickly pulled out, stroked my hair and asked if I was okay.