Thursday, June 7, 2007

Meet Junior

Meet JR

I have a love/hate relationship with Craigslist. I love it because it gets me laid. I hate it because a lot of freaks use it. JR ain’t no freak—but his dick is something freaky.

I sent out a message stating I wanted to give some head. I get that urge now and again: serve rather than be served.

I wanted some dick. Just to go someplace, get on my knees and suck it until he nuts. Then I’d get up and leave, belly and balls full of cum.

My message was simple and straight forward. Most important: no pic, no reply. Guess how many shit-heads sent messages w/out pics? Ten. Ten fucking idiots. Three of them had the nerve to ask why I didn’t reply. Dumbshits. There were about seven with pics and potential. But the best was the one with a nice pic of a long, thick dick:

Yeah, that’s really it. That’s what he sent. That’s what I wanted.

His name is JR. He lives about 15 minutes away. We make the arrangements and I head to his place. Okay place. It’s dark, the shades are all drawn. But it’s clean and that’s important.

He’s small. A short guy, thin with a pony tail in his graying hair. I wanted to say “You’re too old for that shit,” but it didn’t really matter much. He’s wearing Speedo-type underwear. Not my thing, but he makes it work.

I’m glad he’s small. There’s always a thought in my mind that maybe it’s a set up, or the guy wants to try something. When they’re small like JR, I feel more comfortable.

We go to his room. It’s darker than the rest of the place. He tells me his roommate will be home soon, so we can’t be long. Whatever. Just let me get too it.

We don’t do the kissing shit, or rubbing, or any other crap. He drops his shorts and there it is. Damn. It’s big.

I get on my knees and begin to kiss it. It smells nice. He just took a shower. Cool.

I play with his balls a little. Their nice. Their heavy. Shaved, but still nice to suck on.

I’m kissing it a bit, playing with the head and it starts getting harder and growing. I’m wondering how much I’ll be able to take in my mouth. I start putting more in my mouth and rubbing him all over. He’s super thin, but it’s decent. I rub his hairy chest. I can’t tell if he likes it, he makes no sound.

I tell him it’s okay to talk dirty to me. He mumbles a few things and then stops. I can’t complain too much, I didn’t mention it in the ad that I like it when a guy talks dirty.

If I’m down there sucking crank and eating ass, I want a guy telling me what a fucking whore I am for doing it. In the real world I hate being humiliated. When eating a dude, I love nothing more. Make me your bitch. Fuck yeah, I’m a cocksucker. I know I’m a whore. You own me, Sir! Whatever. Make me work for my redemption by drinking down your load.

I move his hands to my head. I want to say, “Fuck my face!” but I’m realizing he’s just not that kind of a guy. He plays with my hair a bit.

He sat down on the bed and that gave me more access to his cock. I gotta say how much I loved sucking that huge thing. It has a nice curve to it and it bulges out in the middle. It’s also very fucking hard. For the 10 minutes I’m blowing him, his dick is like a rock.

JR lets out a little gasp. I notice a taste difference. The bastard came. I’m not opposed to drinking his load, but give a guy a warning. What if I didn’t want to drink it? It tastes okay—nothing too funky or too tasty.

As his dick starts softening and falls from my mouth, he starts to moan. Now he makes some noise.

I kiss around his dick and balls, paying homage to his bush, stomach and thighs.

We stand and I wait for him to put on his briefs. He walks me to the door and says he had a good time. He asks if he can call me again. I think for a moment, “sure.” That pleases him.

I’m not sure why I said yes. Maybe his seeming to ignore me is a turn-on. Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment. Maybe I really liked sucking that beautiful curved dick that was designed for swallowing.

I’ve gone back about eight times to JR. Always on a Sunday afternoon about 2:00pm. He talks a little more now. He also warns me when he’s going to blow. But we still don’t talk much otherwise. I know little about him and he knows nothing about me. Which I like.


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