I was sitting, where we'd agreed. It was an old shoe-shine chair, so it was up on kind of a plinth, with individual foot rests. It was easy to sit comfortable with legs spread a bit, which mine were. I had on pinstripe suit pants with my shiny black leather dress shoes, black leather belt, and a black button-down shirt. The material of the pants was slick and cool on my skin, sliding against my legs as I shifted, waiting.
He walked over. His head was down but he kept looking up. He was shy, which honestly turned me on a bit. He was young, 19, and I knew he hadn't done much playing at the club, so I was excited to be one of his "scenes." I could tell he was excited too, despite the shyness, because he had a little smile he kept trying to hide.
"Are you ready?" I asked him, leaning forward in the chair, as he walked up to stand directly in front of me, between my spread legs.
He just bit his lip and nodded.
"You like sucking cock, don't you?"
"Mmhm" he mumbled.
I ran my hand over his buzzed head, the short-cropped hair prickly under my palm. He almost nuzzled into it. My cock was starting to stir, growing in preparation for what was to come. I asked again, this time loud enough for others to hear.
"I said you like sucking cock, don't you?"
"Yes!" he replied, nodding. His response was still meek, but certainly more enthusiastic than before. He was kind of shuffling back and forth, and his cheeks had flushed red. He kept darting his eyes back and forth without turning his head, like he wanted to know if people had heard, were watching, but was afraid to find out. They had, and they were.
"And you like licking big balls, don't you?" I continued it my slightly-too-loud voice.
"Oh yes," he replied, as his arousal began to masquerade as confidence. His hands were shoved into his pockets like a kid who has been told to look but don't touch one too many times, but he really wanted to do more than look. Do more than touch, too. Well, he was going to get his chance.
I leaned back in the chair, slowly scooting my butt forward on the seat until it was half off, legs still wider. I was hard at this point, my cock an obvious rod down my pant leg. I'd gone commando, I didn't feel like worrying about any little inconveniences like pesky underwear. I put my elbows on the armrests of the chair, arms casually draped off of them.
He just kind of looked up at me for a moment, shoulders hunched up a bit, hands still in his pockets. He wanted it, he knew he wanted it, but he couldn't ask for it. It was cute really.
"Well, go on then. I assume you know how to work a zipper?" I said, gesturing at my crotch with my right hand. He didn't say another word, but stepped forward and put his arms on the top of my thighs, excitedly unbuckling my belt, undoing my button, and then pulling down my zipper. He reached in and wrapped his hand around my cock, his hands warm and soft on my throbbing shaft. He pulled it out and smiled. His entire demeanor shifted, body language much more relaxed. He was obviously in his element now; he knew what to do here.
I lowered my voice to a more intimate murmur. "You like feeling a man's cock, don't you?" He nodded, eyes focused on only one thing. He stroked me slowly, squeezing and rubbing my cock, occasionally letting go to gently tease it with his fingertips. "Smell it. See what a man smells like." He nodded and obliged, pushing his nose against my rod and sniffing in a long, slow inhale. I was freshly showered, but no matter how recent the cleaning, those regions always take on a bit of musk.
"Go on. Lick it. You want to. Suck my cock, boy." I was a bit gruff on the word "boy," gave it some emphasis. Again he did as I asked, giving my entire length a slow lick. His tongue was so warm. I groaned, especially as he got to my head, pushing his tongue up against the little spot just at the base of it.
His hands were rubbing up and down my legs as he continued to use his mouth to pleasure me, licking up and down, popping the head in his mouth, sucking on it and squeezing it with his soft lips. Then he'd pull off and nuzzle it, his own spit now glistening on his cheeks. He licked back up to the tip, taking it in and flicking it with his tongue. Despite his earlier trepidation he'd clearly done this before, and love to do it.
"Aren't you forgetting something?" I asked. He stopped and looked up, concern and confusion on his face. And his spit, but mostly concern and confusion. "My balls, boy. Stroke them. Lick them."
Glad to be told explicitly what his task was, he eagerly addressed my admonition and caressed my sack, lightly stroking his fingers along the sensitive skin. He bent forward and licked, using his tongue to pull one of my balls into his mouth. Face full of testicle he glanced up for reassurance as a finger meandered backwards, first at the base of my sack, then further along the ridge of my perineum until he just barely stroked my back door. I grinned and nodded to show my approval of his explorations.
He fervently returned his attention to my manhood, his hands now gripping my cock while he sucked and licked my balls, then pulling them up so his tongue could probe where his finger had already blazed a trail. I rolled my head back with pleasure. Any man who tells you he doesn't like having that bit where the taint becomes the ball sack licked is a liar.
