The First

"Suck me."

"What?" I wasn't sure I'd heard him correctly.

"Suck me. Suck my cock."

My head buzzed for a brief moment until I realized what he was asking of me.

"I...I don't know. I mean, I've never...geez. I don't know."

He gripped his stiffening dick, outlining it in the faded to nearly white Levis. From where I stood, I could see the triangular shape of the head framed in his fingertips. He squeezed himself gently, fingers pulsing regularly as a heartbeat, waiting for my decision.

My own pecker twitched in anticipation, yet still I hesitated. I spoke the truth in telling him I'd never done this. Countless chat room sessions engaged me in the act any number of times before, including with him, but so far only as fantasy. Now the moment lay before me.

We'd met only an hour before in the sports bar at the hotel. Online he'd said he'd never done this either, but in the bar he admitted to a few trysts like this one. He'd said he knew I wouldn't have met him if I'd known how many guys had sucked his cock. He was probably right.

My cold feet had nearly won the day. I almost didn't go in to bar at all. Once I had, and after we talked a while, he suggested that the public atmosphere in the bar wasn't a good place for continuing this discussion. He purchased two beers to go which we figured to share in the room he'd already booked while we talked a bit more.

Hindsight knows I sealed the decision when I agreed to go up to the room with him.

As he looked at me looking at the bulge in his pants, he began unbuckling his belt. Slowly. Almost too slowly. I watched and anticipated, part of me wanting to run to the door, part of me realizing it was now or likely never. The belt buckle slid away. The top of his boxer briefs appeared in the gap.

"Take off your clothes," he said almost without emotion. His hand stayed on his own cock, hiding it from my view, but obviously growing under his fingers.

"How far?" I asked.

"Everything."

I grinned sheepishly, knowing I looked stupid when I did. But my hands responded unthinkingly to his request. First my fleece vest, then my t-shirt. I stood bare-chested, slightly self-conscious of my not-so-perfectly-firm chest and thick patch of hair that stretches from my collarbone down to my pubes.

"Are you getting naked too?" I asked.

"No. Not yet."

A deep breath and my hands started taking down my own pants. I wasn't thinking clearly. What am I doing here? Why was I doing this? Why couldn't I stop myself?

My jeans fell to my ankles. I stepped out of them. Only my boxers stood between my cock and full exposure.

"Everything," he said, again without emotion, though sounding a bit impatient.

Slowly, nervously, almost shyly, I pulled my boxers down. My cock hung there, raging with sensitivity but hanging just a tad thicker than fully flaccid. I was hesitant to touch it for fear of ejaculating right then and there.

"I'm nervous," I shrugged, flipping my limp dick around in my hand, hoping he wasn't disappointed.

"It happens. Almost every first timer is like you."

I stood there naked and exposed before this near stranger. His hand continued to squeeze his dick in a slow, steady rhythm. He took a step toward me and reached out for my cock. He grabbed it, a tad roughly I thought. He squeezed me in one hand. I felt his middle finger search under my balls for the crack of my ass. Instinctively I squatted slightly, letting him reach farther up there. He rubbed me for just a moment before slowly tracing his way back up my shaft. I felt myself harden with his hand pressing my cock against my stomach.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"OK," I whispered.

My stomach fluttered on the verge of illness and exhilaration. My head buzzed. My peripheral vision closed in until all I saw was his clothed body in front of me. He pulled on my hips, pressing his body into mine. I felt my naked cock pressing against the hidden bulge of his hard-on. I leaned into him knowing what I was going to do when we released the space between us. His hands rubbed my hips and ass and I found myself grinding my cock into him rather than the other way 'round.

"You are ready, aren't you?"

"I think so," I whispered.

"Then do it."

"OK."

We separated by only a couple inches. My hand slid inside the waistband of his shorts and found his cock. Velvety smooth. Rigid and bone-like. The heat emanating from the smooth, firm skin contained inside his shorts surprised me. He pulled in a long breath. My fingers wrapped around his cock, barely fitting all the way around.

I leaned my head against his shoulder and looked down. In the shadows of his shorts I saw his pale cock inside my fist. A dark cluster of wiry hair pressed into my knuckles. I leaned against him and pulled his cock up and out.

"It's so hot," I muttered. "And so hard."

"Your hand feels good. Take your time."

I did. While he encouraged his jeans and boxers to the floor, I explored the long hard cylinder of skin and muscle: Gripping the shaft and squeezing it slowly as he'd done moments before; Sliding my fist up and down, sensing the muscled ridges underneath the smooth, fleshy covering; Running my thumb across the spongy cock head, pressing gently on the pee-hole and noticing the dampness emanating from within.

My own cock swelled to full as I explored his. The urge to release was overwhelming, but I didn't. I couldn't. It took near all of my internal mental concentration to hold back. I pulled the ripe sensitive head of my own dick away from his body to prevent an incidental touch that would force the eruption.

"You want it now, don't you?" he stated more than asked.

Nothing I could say now would alter this course. I dropped to my knees, hands sliding down his hips. His rigid shaft danced in front of my face. I smelled the musk, the sweat, the masculine aroma I recognized from myself. So different from a woman, yet not unpleasant. Maybe even more sexual. Animal-esque.

He gripped the base of his shaft and pointed his dick at my mouth. I opened my mouth and he pressed his way into me. No subtle licking and foreplay as I'd anticipated in my fantasies. His cock filled me suddenly and swiftly, driving deep to the back of my mouth. I gagged and pulled him out, immediately apologizing for doing such.

"I'm sorry. It's so big. Give me a moment," I asked of him.

"Take your time," he said. "We've got time."

With that, I fisted his cock and pulled him back into my mouth. I had to open wide to get his thickness in. I was conscious of my teeth, trying hard to spread wide enough so that that his soft flesh wouldn't catch on the edges of my teeth.

Slowly, I rocked forward, then back. Rocking on my knees, my whole body swaying, in and out, feeling the boney rod slide easily in my mouth.

"Yes," he muttered softly. "Just like that."

I was pleased. Pleased that so far he enjoyed it, that I was doing it correctly. As the rocking rhythm settled in, I began using my hand to squeeze the base of his shaft. He too began to move, following the retreat of my mouth, never letting me separate fully from his cock. His cock head alone seemed to fill the space inside of my cheeks. I wanted to think I could feel it swell gently each time I held it on my tongue. It would sit there only briefly before he would push himself into the back of my mouth.

It felt natural. Organic almost. A comforting sense that there was absolutely nothing wrong with what we were doing because it felt so right. Emotionally, the sense of taboo or fear of discovery faded. It would not re-appear until much later.

I moved my hands to his hips, then wrapped them around his waist until I held his taut ass cheeks in my hands. From this position, I was able to guide his motions, to control his movements a bit more. In and out of me he went, not all the way to his balls; He was too long to fit everything into me.

He watched from above, his eyes following the face engulfing his cock. I looked up now and then knowing guys love it when they see a woman enjoying this moment as much as they are. He never took his eyes off of me. A bit self-conscious - or was it shame, or was I teasing - I couldn't maintain the eye contact.

I caught myself moaning with each deep stroke of his cock. How long had I grunted these low, guttural sounds. It seemed my brain was only now returning from somewhere else. It was only now that I became again aware of the room, of my abject nakedness, of the pressure of my knees in the carpet, of the sensations in my own dick which pointed skyward between my thighs. I noticed too that his pants were still clustered around his ankles, that one of his hands held his shirt just above his navel preventing it from falling in my face.

I dared to touch my own cock just below the pink head. It jumped and I shuddered. A slow ooze of sticky fluid poured from the head. I wasn't cumming, but flowing. Silky juices dripped from the buzzing tip of my pecker. Never, never before had I elicited juices as I was now. I didn't dare dream of stroking myself, knowing that if I did, I'd be jerking and bucking with my own orgasm long before my friend was ready.

"Am I doing ok?" I asked. "Does it feel good?" I wanted to know. I wanted more feedback than the slow rocking of his hips.

"So good, yes. You learn quickly."

His hand found the back of my head. Gentle pressure on my scalp moved him even deeper into my mouth. He would hold me there, his cock barely touching the curve at the back of my throat. My nose was close now to his dark curls. With each deep stroke I squeezed his ass cheeks and wriggled my mouth around his cock.

"Cum for me," I heard myself say on the next upstroke. "Cum for me," I requested.

"Oh, I will," he assured me. "You're going to get it all. You're fast becoming a very good cocksucker, aren't you?"

"I want you to feel good." I found myself using the line my wife uses when I sometimes take too long to cum: "What can I do?"

"Lay down on the bed." He didn't so much as ask as tell me. Ready for a change of position, I complied. Standing, giving his cock a quick stroke, and him a quick, teasing grin, I laid across the garishly-colored nylon quilt. It was cold on my back. My cock, slick with oozing pre-cum slapped down across my belly.

He moved on to the bed on his knees, crawling up beside me. Lifting a leg up and over my chest, he straddled my shoulders. His balls hung down on my lips. I answered his unspoken request and smeared my tongue across the wrinkled bag. I sucked hungrily on the loose skin until I located one of the hidden nuggets and pulled it between my lips.

The smell of his genitals was powerful from this angle. The dark sweetness of his anus, the sweat of his nuts, the anticipatory trickle of fluid on the tip of his shaft. I licked up underneath him, my tongue crossing the line between his testicles and ass briefly. He shivered, then rocked forward again pointing the swelling head to my face.

This time, he took control of his cock and pressed it between my lips. I opened my mouth and let him fuck my face, transforming myself into an open, willing vessel for his rigid cock. He began pumping himself into me. He balanced his hands on the pillows behind my head and pushed himself in and out. My lips surrounded his cock trying to provide a soft, wet, deep, warm hole for his cock.

He grunted and moaned with each stroke. I felt him become more insistent on the down thrusts, pushing deeper. My hands found their way inside the t-shirt he still wore, pressing into the bare chest and thumbing the taut nipples. Many of his strokes found their way to the hilt. From this angle, I was truly able to deep throat his entire manhood, though if he'd lingered long in those depths I would've gagged. His pubic hairs nestled on my lips as he fell against me.

My upper body pinned to the bed by his humping hips, I dared now to touch myself. My cock had softened slightly though my excitement was surely full. I was slippery with my own juices that now covered my half-stiff dick. I stroked myself, the upper half of my cock flopping in my fist.

"I need to cum," he moaned. I couldn't reply, full as my throat was with his dick. "God, I need to cum."

He pumped more insistently, seemingly on the edge of something. I anticipated, waited for the eruption that wasn't quite ready to come. I knew this feeling all too well, of a blow job performed oh so well but unable to crest the wave to orgasm.

"What can I do?" I managed to spit out between strokes.

"I don't know," he replied. "It feels so good. You're so good. I'm so close."

"What do you want? I'll do it. Anything."

"Anything?"

Did I just say that? Did I understand what that one word implied? I sucked his cock deeper into my mouth, and closed my eyes. Once again the room closed in around me, leaving my circle of awareness centered just his cock in my mouth. And then his cock was gone.

I barely felt the pressure of his body shift from my shoulders to my thighs. His hand rubbed my cock. At first, I thought he was trying to stroke me, but he would rub his palm on my wet dick, then rub it over his own cock. He was lubricating his long shaft with my own slippery fluids.

I began to cum. In his palms, over his fingers, on to my chest and belly. Though my cock lay flaccid in his hands, semen poured from me in thick heavy spurts. He squeezed me, milking my cum into his hands, then slathering the creamy white juices on his cock. He even took some on his finger tips and spread it across my asshole.

I didn't stop him. I felt the hard point of his cock press against my virgin hole. I felt his cock bend as his first attempt to enter me met stiff resistance. I felt him lift my legs up off the bed and then his fingertips as they led the tip of his cock to my asshole. And then he was inside me.

A pop and a burning flash. I think I cried out, but not really from pain. It was the sensation of something being where it never should have been. Heat. Deep heat, tunneling it's way into me. I felt the cum-covered shaft glide in, touching my guts, my intestines, my stomach, and whatever other places that never experienced the outside world.

"You're so fucking tight," I heard him say as if we were in a hollow tunnel.

My hands gripped the base of the headboard as he pressed ever deeper. He fucked me. He fucked my ass like it was a pussy, holding my legs up against his shoulders. My eyes were closed. My cock flopped back and forth across my cum-sticky stomach. His long, steel hard shaft slid effortlessly in my dark tunnel.

So this is what being fucked feels like, I heard a voice somewhere in my head remark. I concentrated on feeling the muscled rings of his cock gliding past the muscled rings of my sphincter. Each push pressed the tip of his cock against a wall, not painfully though. The smell of sweat, of cum, of men, was strong.

With a grunt, he pushed all the way in. His pubic bone was pressed hard between my cheeks and lifted my lower back off the bed. His body pulsed. A tectonic wave rolled from his stomach to his hips then transferred the wave inside me. I felt the swell of his cock around the ring of my asshole. Then a warmth spread deep within me. The first shot came almost without sensation other than the oozing warm syrup in my depths.

I certainly felt the next ones throughout me though as his body jerked and pulsed as he pulled back almost to the hilt before slamming his cock back to its ultimate depths and exploding inside me. I felt cum hit my inner walls. I felt it coating the dark tunnel making it even easier for him to fuck me. Though I know it was the fluids mostly, my ass felt as if it opened up, finally, to let him slide in and out with ease.

The involuntary thrusting inside me slowed and eased, and with a pop, he was out, rolling down next to me on the bed, my arm resting under his head. He breathed heavily, the satisfied, heavy breathing that I've known after sex with the wife.

Moments later, his cum began flowing through the stretched pucker of my ass, painting I'm sure, a river of white in the crack. My butthole felt like it was breathing, opening and closing as it worked its way back to its original diameter, pushing before it droplets of his cream.

"Jesus," he muttered. "I wasn't planning on going all the way. At least not this quickly."

"It's ok," I answered. "I was too turned on to stop you. I don't think I could've stopped you. I'm glad you came."

"You did too," he grinned.

"Yeah, I guess I did."

With that, he stood up and recovered his shorts and jeans from the floor. He closed the bathroom door and I heard the water run in the sink, and then a long, slowly trickling pee. He emerged from the bathroom fully dressed, with me still lying naked on the bed, my ass now beginning to feel a bit sore and abused.

"You have my email if you ever want to meet again," he said.

"You're going." It was more an acknowledgement than a question.

"I gotta get home. Christmas concert at the kids' school tonight."

He reached into his jacket pocket as he slipped it on and tossed a plastic key card on the desk.

"Here's the key if you're going to stay longer. It's all paid for so don't worry about checking out.

"See you next time, I hope. I think you're going to be good at this."

And he was gone. I fell asleep, still naked atop the wet bedspread, waking a couple hours later with an incredible need to shit. The shit didn't come, but I had enough energy to shower, and even stroke myself off one more time before I headed home for the night.