Gay Erotic Stories

This was the "olden days", before the internet, DVD's, or even BETA/VHS tape. I was just a naive 18 year old, had moved from my small town home, had my first real job, and had finally found a small affordable place of my own. My girlfriend was away on an extended youth-development program, and without a car of my own, or much cash to spare, I didn't get out much. The only people I knew were from work, and they were all pretty much older than me, with wives and/kids, so I didn’t have much in common with them on which to build any kind of “outside of work” friendship. Watching TV or reading was how I spent the bulk of my free time, dragging my dirty clothes to the mall Laundromat was my "night out", and a very limited selection of dog-eared, over-read porn mags was the only poontang I was getting.

I wasn't exactly "livin' the dream", so when I got a call from my out-of-town cousin Mal (short for Malcolm), saying he was in the city for some training, and wanted to get together, I was pretty excited. Mal was about 5 years older than me; I'd always looked up to him growing up. He used to let me take a drag on his cigs when my folks weren’t looking, let me chug gratuitously from his beer under those same conditions, and was just always fun to be around. I was overdosing on “me time”, and was thrilled that he was going to rescue me from my "life in dead-lane", and take me out for some fun. It was Friday evening, I’d just gotten off work, and he'd just finished a two-day course. The six hour drive home was too much to tackle on a Friday night, especially when you're on the company dime, so he was staying over one more night, and heading home the next morning. I was off for the weekend, so the night was pregnant with possibilities. I finished my typical single guy supper, and imagined a good night of drinking and god-knows-what in my immediate future.

Mal did not disappoint, picked me up at 8 sharp, and told me we were going for a night of pool at the “Fort”, where he'd been staying for the last couple nights. The Fort Motel was on the outskirts of the city, right on the highway, and had a long-standing, well-deserved reputation as the epicenter of whatever murky underbelly the city had. This place was NOT for the faint of heart. Bootleg booze, biker brawls, prostitutes, drugs, illegal gambling, and of course, pool tables...this place had it all, always percolating just below a razor thin membrane of "legit" that kept it in business. It had been the target of many a police raid, and at first, I was quite nervous, though I didn't reveal my apprehension. This place was notorious for trouble and mayhem. After a moment or two of quiet reflection, I realized that this could be a night of infamy, and I decided right there, whatever happened, for one night only, come hell or high water, I was gonna scratch my name into the annals of anarchy that documented the history of this place… no matter what.

In my mind the build-up was huge. What will I see...a bar-fight? A shooting? What I actually saw when we walked in the bar was about thirty greasy guys, unschooled in the art of personal hygiene, all vying to play on just four pool tables. This meant me and cousin Mal spent most of our time sitting at the bar, catching up, and knocking back barley sandwiches while we waited for our turn to challenge a table. I was still 18; underage from a drinking establishment perspective, so downing cold ones amidst gritty bottom-of-the-barrel types was still registering pretty high on the "thrill-o-meter". It beat the hell out of staying home and watching "Dallas" on my 13 inch b & w.

As we drank, Mal brought me up to speed about the house-rules for the pool tables: twenty bills a game to play; winning team keeps the cash, and the table. By the time our turn came to challenge a table almost 3 hours later, the two guys we were to play had won about 6 games straight. I barely had enough cash left to pony up my $10 share for the game, not that it would matter. Although I was pacing myself, I had just started my 6th long-neck, and hadn't played pool in a couple years ...I would NOT be bringing my A-game tonight. We were predictably dispatched after less than 15 minutes.

Showing no sign of disappointment, Mal offered to buy me another beer, and we hung around chatting, and observing...separating the hustlers from the regulars and wannabe's. Mal bought me one more, and we realized we had finally gotten bored with pool. That's when matter-of-factly advised he'd drank too much, and wouldn't be able to drive me home. Being the responsible one, he informed me my options were to walk home alone, or crash with him in his motel room. He had two double-beds, and a color TV. There is a point you sometimes reach when you’re drinking, called the “FUCK YEAH, I CAN DO ANYTHING” zone. You know, when you had so much to drink that you’re positive you can run faster, spit farther, arm wrestle or kick the shit out of anyone in the room. Fortunately, I had not yet reached this false state of invincibility, so I did NOT feel up to tackling a five mile walk home in the dark on a cold drizzly November night, along a four lane highway, without even a sidewalk. I asked him "what's on TV?" instead.

We got to his room, Mal switched on the TV, pointed out which bed I would take, and we each took our turn "squeezing the lemon". We finished our last beer, and tried to find something interesting to watch while we each lay on our separate beds. Finding nothing (remember, this was the “olden days”, before cable), Mal said "I gotta get outta these clothes...I'm pretty bushed". He stripped down to t-shirt and shorts, and then said I should do the same, since we'd have to be up fairly early for him to get me back to my pad, and then start his long drive home. The room was a little too warm for my liking, so I didn't hesitate to comply. As I undressed, he said "hey, I got something you need to see...Miss September."

I lay back on my bed, on the top of the covers, as he walked over to the desk and rummaged through his suitcase. As he walked back, I couldn't help notice that his speedo like shorts appeared to have seen way too many cycles in the washing machine. They weren't tattered or worn with holes, but the material was very thin. In the blue haze of light from the TV I could easily see all the “heat he was packin' ”...there was nothing left to the imagination. They were loose fitting enough, with a little pouch, so his package even bounced a bit as he walked back from the desk, and down the little aisle between the two beds to hand me the thick September issue of Penthouse.

He held the magazine out for me so it was just beside my eye-line with his package. I was quite shocked. I took the magazine, not realizing I was in a full-on, open mouthed stare at his junk. Nervously wanting to not appear to be staring, I looked right up at him. Without making a sound, my wide eyes and open mouth instantly announced "Mal, I was just staring at your cock just now, and did I mention that I can see your cock while I’m staring at your cock?” It's not that his tool was forearm sized or anything. It's just that I'd never found my face so close to another guys toolkit, being separated by nothing more than his "thinner than one-ply toilet tissue" skivvies. He seemed pretty expressionless, then, with a little smirk, he sat down on his bed facing me, switched on the table lamp between us, and said "go ahead...check her out". Now, in the lamp light, it was like his pecker was staring at me, and I was pathetically trying to avoid its glare. He snapped me out of it by saying "she starts on page seventy - something' or other. I fumbled through pages, finally getting myself together, and found the beginning page of a stunning pictorial. He wasn't kidding...a gorgeous brunette, long flowing hair, bright green eyes with long black lashes, thick eyeliner, ruby lips, a gorgeous rack, perfect dark nipples, burnished olive skin, and long legs clad in sheer black stockings with black heels to match. I kept turning pages, seeing every part of her exquisite body, lingering on the perfectly sculpted fleshy folds of her muff. I studied on in silence.

Mal must've been watching, and noticed when I'd finished the main pictorial, at which time he said "do me a favor...read the The Forum...it starts on page such-n-such". I glanced over at him, lying on his side, facing me now. The light showed gravity pulling his kit down onto the bed, then I quickly broke gaze and looked back at the mag in my hands. I said something raunchy...trying to sound cool...and not succeeding, but I laughed anyway, anything’s funny when you’ve drank enough. I found the page and started to read. After just a few seconds he said "no...out loud. Read it out loud so I can hear." I gave him a "WTF" look, and he said "I love this shit. These stories are so hot...go ahead, just read it out loud".

I started to read..."I always read your stories in The Forum, thinking none of them could be true...until this really happened to me"… I continued to read on about a guy...at a conference...in a bar...meets a flight attendant...she's with another flight attendant...yada yada etc., etc. As I got deeper into the tale, Mal would interject with "man that's hot!" or "can you imagine!?!?" In my peripheral view, I couldn't help noticing Mal intermittently rubbing or stroking his now fully erect rod. It was just an average size, but the fact that I could see it so plainly through the tinted saran wrap he called underwear was definitely adding some tension to what was now my own elongated throbbing mass of reproductive equipment. My underwear weren't made of the same near-invisible material that Mal's were made of, but my bone was well outlined just the same. Fortunately, the beers had done their job of removing all inhibition or awkwardness. After all, I'm reading stuff that would make a dead guy stiff...so the fact that me and Mal are both rock hard was normal. I kept reading.

Mal got up, turned down the TV volume, then came back and switched on the clock radio by the lamp. There were a few seconds of crackling and whining until he found a suitable station. I instantly recognized the tune as “Slow Poke” by April Wine. With the hand upraised to hold the mag, it concealed my eyes from his, so I thought he wouldn't notice me staring as he walked back from the TV. The lamp again illuminated his fully erect, upright staff...I could see the entire outline, see every vein, every ridge. Mal sat and looked at me and said "why did you stop reading" while his machine strained against the fabric. I was busted. He just said "man those stories get me so horny I'll do just about anything...keep reading".

As I began again he said "you look like you're enjoying the story too. Are you?" "Ya" I said..."fucking hot".

"And what happens when you get so horny?"

"I don't know" I said. I wasn’t thinking clear enough to formulate an answer if I did know.

"Well, keep reading, and I'll make sure you get the most out of it, ok?”

"Ok"...and I started again without a thought more. Everything makes perfect sense after 5 or 6 beers.

I got through a couple more lines, and noticed him get off his bed and move toward mine. I read on, it was a new story about a guy having to work late at the office, when your not-so-typical cleaning lady comes in to vacuum, empty trash, dust the desk, etc., etc., etc. The “cleaning lady” had just knocked a mug of coffee onto the guy’s lap, and was trying to help “wipe up” the mess on his crotch. That’s when I noticed Mal had begun to rub his palm up my shaft. I stopped for a second, and he said "go ahead, keep going...I'm listening".

I started reading again...and he again rubbed up, then down my shaft with his palm. He took his time, adding some downward pressure after a few more strokes. What I read was total mind candy, and what Mal was doing was only making it sweeter...I kept reading. Then he said "hmmm...I love this part", as he began to close his fingers around my shaft, lightly stroking it now through my underwear. I made a quick glance down, and saw that pre-cum was already soaking through my underwear. Mal, who was actually standing in a stoop by my bedside, began to finger-climb my rod, and massaged the head a little, as my underwear waist-band began to work its way downward. As the head of my granite member came out from under the waistband, I was so hard, so buzzed, and so horny, I thought I was gonna shoot my load and blow my own head off right then and there. Mal knew what was going on, because my previously fluid reading was now a broken succession of sentence fragments…although my participle was definitely NOT dangling. The last coherent segment of the story I could recall at this point was that of our loyal, late-night office guy, after much rubbing and sopping up, was now standing, cock hard and throbbing, while the cleaning lady from heaven helped undo his trousers as she knelt in front of him. That’s when Mal stopped what he was doing, stood up, and said “sit up”.

I turned to put my feet on the floor, set the mag down on the bed, and looked straight ahead at his full package. He moved forward a little, so there was less than a foot separating his junk from my face. I looked dead ahead. Now brightly illuminated by the lamp on the right side, and the blue TV light from the left, for the first time ever I had an up-close-and-personal view of someone’s man meat, in 3D High Definition. In that moment, as I zoomed in on every detail, crease, vein, ripple, and ridge, it was as though everything was frozen in time. There was no sound…I don’t even remember hearing the radio anymore. What I did hear, although it was more feel than hear, was my heartbeat, like a fucking great timpani, booming in each of my ears. The frozen silence was broken when Mal said “Whaddya gonna do”?

There was no mental processing of his question…no thought or deliberation of any kind. Without any hesitation, my both hands reached up, my fingers pressed in and around his waistband, which I then clutched with a fist pressed each side of his waist. Then I began to slowly slide the band downward. As I did so, the front portion of the waistband stayed tucked against his stomach, causing his underwear to get snagged on the head of his cock. As I continued to pull his shorts down, it pulled his cock down, like a draw-bridge being lowered. I reached that critical point of tension where his cock would not bend down any further, and the band finally slipped off the top of his cock. It shot back upwards like a catapult, bounced a couple times, then settled into a state of rest, with its head, just inches from my face, pointing upwards at nearly a forty-five degree angle. I finished pulling his shorts down to just below his knees, at which time he adjusted his feet, and they fell the rest of the way to the floor. Once again, I find myself locked in a staring contest with Mal’s member, though now we’re practically nose to nose. I had never before considered any kind of a MM encounter before, nor did I have any known attraction to guys, it just wasn’t on the radar. Was this curiosity? Some deep-seeded desire perhaps? Or was this just one of many possible outcomes from the one-two punch of beers and porn? I can ask these questions now… but at that moment, my mind was completely and utterly empty, void of any thought, feeling or inclination whatsoever. Is that what people mean when they say something is “surreal”? Damned if I know. All I know is, once again I heard Mal, with a very subtle expectant tone, say “Whaddya gonna do”?

I reach up with my left hand, and as my fingers touched the lower part of his stick, just above his balls, I was surprised at how soft it felt. I slowly brought my fingers upwards, and noticed his slightly protruding head was being completely swallowed up by the surrounding skin. I’m circumcised, so I had not seen this before. I drew my fingers downward, and although they stayed stationary with the skin I was touching, my hand descended his shaft, and a glistening, shiny head of the highest magnitude of purple emerged. I did this a couple more times, closely observing how his foreskin would just completely envelope the head of his cock, then lay it bare when I pulled downward. When pulled all the way back, there was a well-defined neck on his shaft, just below where his mushroom head broadened out, with a rough-looking ridge on the back edge of his glans. It was like I had his cock under a microscope. My fingers were now fully wrapped around Mal’s cock, and I had been slowly stroking it, up and down, covering his head, then fully retracting his foreskin to completely uncover his head… over and over and over again. Then, I heard him exhale deeply through his nose, and with an inviting, almost whispered tone, Mal said “Whaddya gonna do”?

Like the “Manchurian Candidate” (some of you may have to watch the movie to know what I’m talking about), I responded to what was now like a verbal trigger. I didn’t know what the fuck I was gonna do…but I was gonna mindlessly do it all the same. I was already on a downstroke with my hand when Mal spoke, so I continued the downward motion, taking a grip of Mal’s ball sack with my thumb wrapped around the right-side, and my fingers taking the left-side. I took a firm grasp, then continued to pull downward. This fully retracted his foreskin to completely expose his shiny head, and also pulled his cock down from its 45 degree angle, so that it was pointing straight ahead and squarely at my mouth. I then opened my mouth, and with eyes wide open I leaned forward, and as I inhaled a deep breath, I took the full length of his shaft into my mouth without touching it. Then, I closed my moist mouth around his cock, and applied a gentle suction as I slowly drew my head away, causing his cock to slowly slide out of my mouth as I heard him deeply exhale again through his nostrils, with a hushed “hmmmmmmmmm”. I opened my mouth, and repeated. I closed my eyes, and in my mind’s eye saw the detail of his cock as my tongue must have been passing over it. As the back of his glans came up against my top teeth, I would use my tongue to press upwards on that small indent just below the pee-hole, where the shaft ends, and the smaller front portion of the head begins. After completing this pattern of strokes a few more times, the “hmmmmmmm” had changed to an “aaawwwwwwww”. I was stroking his shaft a little with my hand as well, but I didn’t seem to know where to go from there. That’s when he said “I gotta sit down”. As he sat on the edge of the bed, I quickly took his ankle with my right hand, and swung it to my left. He immediately rolled with it, swinging both his legs up on the bed, so now he was lying down at the edge, perpendicular to me. I stood, stooped over him, again grabbed and pulled his balls downward, and sunk my mouth down over his entire cock from a slightly inverted position, so now my tongue would rub over the top side of his fuck-stick. This time, as I applied suction, and pulled my mouth slowly off of his cock, the length of my tongue slid over the back edge of the head of his cock. He arched his back, and pressed his head back and into the pillow and gave out a loud “oooooohhhhhh ffffffuuuuuuuucccckkk”. I was completely unconcerned and uninterested in what he was experiencing. I was taking a 3D mental photo of the head of his cock, using my mouth. As my tongue swirled and stroked the top of his cock in the warm, wet and vacuous confines of my mouth, I could see it behind my closed eyes. My mind had become a giant IMAX screen. I could feel his head swell as he made ever so slight upward flexes of his cock. Here I was, with his most personal possession in my left hand, while I continuously stroked it in and out of my mouth. He might’ve been thinking “he’s blowing me, he’s blowing me”, but I felt like I was taking his lunch money, eating his sandwich, and gulping down his twinkie. I wasn’t “giving” nothing…I was “taking”!

Without any concept of time, we continued to play our respective roles until he began to flex with a regular rhythm. Some of my drool had run down the underside of his cock, and was now trying to navigate a path through the sparse hair of his balls. “I’m about to cum” he said. “Oh fuck you’re gonna make me cum. MMMMmmmmmm mm mm mmmmm I’m about to cum”. Still trying to keep something of a hushed tone, He was saying it almost with reluctance, as if he was a bee about to sting, knowing he would die right after doing so. Me…I don’t know where the fuck I was. I was floating…on a huge cock… with a cock in my mouth… watching a bunch of other cocks on a huge movie screen…while cock-shaped violins, stroked by long thin bow cocks furiously played Palladio: Allegretto (Google it!), as giant dick-shaped horns trumpeted, and little dicks with wings floated and flitted about. I was in a zone, all by myself…and I sucked on. I didn’t skip a beat, I didn’t break my rhythm, which was still slow, but relentless. “JESUS”! Mal blurted, almost like he was hurt. “This is it…oh fuck I’m cumming”!! And with that, just as I happen to be at the top of my stroke, with just the head of his cock in my mouth, and my tongue working the back edge of his glans, I felt that familiar swell in the head of his cock, but now it was a rapid pulsing, as I felt spurts of hot viscous fluid fill up the void behind my top-front teeth with each lurch of his cock. I stayed right there through a short, but continuous barrage of lurching and pulsing in his cock, while he continued with a string of grunts, amongst a chorus of “oh fuck ya!! Oh my fuck”!! Then he let out a final, albeit subdued “hhmmmmmmmmm ooohhh fuck ya”, with a long exhale. I then re-applied that familiar suction, creating some negative air pressure in my oral cavity. Whatever juice I had just extracted from his nuts and into my mouth was instantly drawn to the back of my throat, and with all the sentiment of a dentist’s suction tube, I swallowed it. Although I did mentally note a slight bitter after-taste, I went right back into my mechanical rhythm of sucking his member in, and pulling my mouth away while still strongly engaging suction and friction. I had barely restarted my when I noticed he was softening. Then he put his hand on my forehead pushing me back, raised his knees up and said “oh fuck stop… stop…I can’t take anymore”.

I stood up and looked at his now shrinking dick. Then, for the first time since I gave him my “I’m staring at your cock” look earlier, I looked him in the eye…and that’s when I finally regained consciousness. He grinned, and said “fuck me…you just drained every fucking molecule of jiz outta my balls, It’s gonna take fuckin’ WEEKS before I’ll be able to cum again. I’m so fucking’ drained I’m THIRSTY”!!! There were a few seconds of silence, then I said “whaddya gonna do”?

He immediately sat up, grabbed my waistband just like I had done, but ripped them down past my knees. My own gadget was limp, but full…on high alert. He didn’t hesitate, he didn’t tease or take it slow. Mal reached around, grabbed my ass with both hands, pulled me close, scooped up my cock with his tongue, and sucked my slug all the way into his face. I had never experienced that before, let alone like a fucking blitzkrieg. It took about a millionth of a second for me to get as hard as a Louiseville Slugger. I put my hands on his shoulders to steady myself while he double-timed my dick. The sensations were coming faster than I could process them. It was good, real good. He was letting out little “mmmmm’s”, and he kept a vigorous pace, like he really was thirsty, and this was the only thing to drink for miles. I was beginning to wonder if I’d told him I cum beer or something. Amidst what I realized were a series of “oooohhh’s” and “oh fuck ya’s” coming out of my mouth, my knees were getting rubbery, and it was getting harder to stand. Mal must’ve sensed this, as he broke off and gave my belly a shove. I fell back sitting on the edge of my bed, then collapsed backward as Mal re-engaged his mouth-to-member resuscitation. I closed my eyes, taking it in. It was like having my dick inserted into a hot, firm loaf of wet bread…warm, wet and soft, but lots of friction, stroking and tugging. Mal kept moaning his approval of the whole arrangement, and I listened to him heavily exhale through his nose over and over to the raunchy tones of AC/DC growling out of the radio.

I have no idea how long this went on, but given that horniness at this point could only be measured on the richter scale, I’ll guess is wasn’t long at all. I soon began to feel that pressure build. I began to give Mal the same verbal warnings…”oh fuck it’s coming Mal”. He gave me a muted “mmhmm” in agreement, and plowed on unabated…full fucking speed ahead…like he was in an Olympic race or something. I said “oh fuck ya”…and he just quickened the pace. “Oh fuck are you ready for this? Oh fuck this is IT!!!” and whoooosh…my nuts, dick and stomach went into spasms so hard I could’ve shelled a walnut in my belly-button and crushed ice in my crack. It felt like my cock was spewing cum like a firehose. I half expected to see the pictures on the walls rattle and fall. Oh FUUUUUUUUUUCK!!! It felt so intense, yet Mal just chugged on, easily capturing every sperm-cell that erupted from my bang-stick. In my mind trains were being derailed, damns were breaking, and whole segments of the coastline were collapsing into the sea. In reality, Mal had easily taken my two-teaspoons of dick sauce without getting the top of his head blown off, and my dick was already turning to jelly. I was ab-so-fucking-lutely spent just the same…and had flung my hands above my head as I gasped for air and tried to get my heart rate back down. I hadn’t even noticed Mal had gotten off his knees until I felt something icey cold hit my stomach. I jumped, looking down and grabbing a can of beer off of my gut. I looked up at Mal, who gave me a wink, pulled the tab on his can, and started chugging back the suds. I ripped off my pull tab with that familiar hiss, and did the same. I was thoroughly wasted, spent & tired. Without any more words, the TV and radio were silenced, the light was off, I had stuffed myself under the sheets with just my t-shirt on, and then went floating into the blackness while “Magic Carpet Ride” heralded my way onward. I turned to Spock, he turned to me, and together we voiced our conclusion of the day’s events as… “Fascinating”.

Images came and went, the smell of the bar, the klack of pool balls, the soft touch of Mal’s cock, that glistening purple helmet, and that warm wet sensation washing over my own tool. I lingered on that, and it came again in another wave, and another. I guess I had been paying attention, as now the full suite of sensation was coming back to me, and I felt myself getting hard again, as that soft, tight, warm wet feeling continued like tropical waves breaking over and around my cock. Unconsciously I flexed to press in and maximize the sensation, and suddenly found myself obstructed. The fluid sensations were still there, but now I sensed limits, some constraint…like I was pinned. And then, in a quick, yet governed or graduated span of time or space, I became aware…like the volume of the world had been muted, and now it was being turned back up for you to hear again. There was light trying to penetrate my eyelids, and though that hot sensation still enveloped me, I realized I really was pinned.

Suddenly I opened my eyes and raised myself up onto my elbows. Looking downward toward the source of my total gratification and whatever was confining me, through the blur and haze of morning light and freshly woken eyes, I deciphered the image of Mal, shoulder and arm pressing down on my left thigh, and his mouth plowing up and down on my swollen morning hard-on. The sheets were all pulled back, and I was lying at an angle across the bed. I dropped my head back and exhaled heavily with a low ”ooooohhhh fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck”. I stared at the ceiling for a few seconds as all my other mental faculties came back online. As the boot sequence completed and all the sensory data started to come in, I quickly turned to my left, and saw Mal’s half-hard kit hanging there a foot from my head. I rolled over and snatched it into my mouth like a Schauzer on a sausage. Mal grunted his approval as his dick snapped to attention in my mouth, and dance of the bobbing heads began.

It was unruly and uncoordinated at first…both of us on a separate pace, and different angles. Then the memories of the night before began to flash before me, and I actually started to put some thought into what I was doing. I drew my head back again, and began to repeatedly rub my tongue on the sensitive back edge of the head of his tool, like a lapping motion, then plunge my mouth down on the length of his dick with a strong sucking motion. He let out some high pitched moans, then shocked the hell out of my by doing the same thing to me. And so we played dueling tongues for a few minutes before things got quiet again. For a while I was quite engrossed with Mal’s stiff cock in my mouth, as I mentally flipped through the photo album of cock shots I had snapped the night before with my 3D cock-imaging tongue, and the new snaps I was adding to it…but now it getting harder to stay focused on what was in my mouth. I was getting overwhelmed with what was going on in Mal’s mouth. We both must have been at the same place, as I noticed his cock flexing in my mouth in answer to me flexing mine in his. We each started to moan more frequently, and with raised pitch we were beginning to answer each other. I had leaned over more, and now had one hand around Mal’s waist and on his ass, pushing and pulling him into my mouth. At the same time, I was trying to trying to maintain some restraint, but I was thrusting my hips a bit like I was fucking his face. Mal was doing much the same…I wasn’t no longer moving my head on and off his cock so much as I was just holding my head steady as his cock thrust in and out of it. The pace of our cocks and our moans was hitting fever pitch when I could hold it no longer. I let out one long groaning exhale through my nose as I again began to spew hot nut cream into Mal’s mouth. Barely a second later, Mal made a similar long grunt over top of mine, and I felt hot jets shoot from his cock into my mouth. He stopped bucking his hips, and I settled my mouth on the head of his cock and just kept the suction on to vacuum in every short gush of cum. I don’t know what he was doing, I just kept pumping my juice and savoring the moment.

Between the two us, there was plenty of wet smacking slurping sounds that finally gave way and subsided as the cum tanks emptied, and pulsating jets of dick sauce gave way to an ooze of goo. I had swallowed a couple times, and was now just sucking the dregs from Mal’s cock, knowing that what I had been just been immensely enjoying was about to end. It wasn’t so much that I savored his cum…I had barely tasted it. I had just gulped it down for want of knowing what else to do with it. Mal seemed to be pretty much on the same page, as I could still feel my cock being firmly held in his mouth with a strong vacuum that held the full length of my cock in his mouth. Whatever fluid was left in the line was being completely drained.