Disclaimers
This story is a work of fiction. It contains descriptions of sexual contact between males. If you are not of legal age to read such material, or if you find this subject offensive, please leave and do not read on. Safer sex techniques (i.e., use of condoms, etc.) have not been included for the sake of storytelling technique. Real life, however, is not storytelling; and condoms should be used without fail during anal intercourse and other high-risk activities (even you boys on PrEP and you undetectable guys).
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Accepting the Petey within, part nine – fraternity life, brother Paul, 2 of 3
Paul's next few visits follow the same pattern. In through the bathroom, into my room, PJ bottoms only, drop his drawers, kick them off, sit on the edge of my bed and lay back. I throw him a pillow for his head.
Until I can get a better handle on this situation, I limit stimulation to one area at a time. Cock. Balls. Never both. Visits only last several minutes. Once, he shoots his load while I am only sucking on his nuts!
Each exit is punctuated by a sincere, "Wow! Thank you!"
Okay. Paul may be pleased with this, but I am certainly not. His journal page provides no clues on how to proceed, because everything gets him off. He is just too sensitive.
I want to ask him if this has always been his experience. I also want to know how it works with his girlfriend, if he even has a girlfriend. Our relationship is not that close, so I never ask.
I page randomly through my journal looking for inspiration. In the "blowjob technique" section, next to the "pile driver", I notice a note in the margin indicating I may have been able to prolong this session by stimulating his nipples more.
The pile driver is a technique of my own creation. I use it most successfully on `he who may not yet be named" (don't want to ruin the story).
A full-blown (get it?) skull fuck is actually "he who may not yet be named"'s favorite go-to technique, but he allows me plenty of time to experiment and I make the most of it.
The pile driver works like this. I take just the head of his cock in my mouth, apply suction and rock up and down on just the head – for two minutes. Then, go another inch deeper onto his dick. Still constant suction and now rocking up and down on his head and the first inch of his shaft – for another two minutes. I let another inch of shaft into my mouth and continue for yet another two minutes. He's about six inches total, so I'm done with the first round in 12 minutes. By that time, the head of his dick has been under constant stimulation for 12 minutes and has been bumping into the back of my throat for about 4-6 minutes. I open my mouth and try to get off his prick without making any further contact.
I allow him to relax a little.
Then, I repeat the sequence using one minutes intervals. Six minutes later, my nose is again deep in his pubes and his dick head is pounding my throat. Open mouth, get off dick.
A little less time to relax.
I start in again at 30 second intervals, then 15 seconds. My history with "he who may not yet be named" is that around this point (half-way through the 15 second sequence) he grabs the back of my head and shoots his load down my throat after several skull-fuck thrusts.
He never lets me finish.
So, one day we are out together playing miniature golf. Minimal skill required with lots of room for luck to intervene. "He who may not yet be named" jokingly suggests I give him a pile driver, if he wins. Less jokingly, I agree and counter that – if I win – I be permitted to give that pile driver while he sits on his hands, so I can take it to its conclusion. A win-win, if I've ever seen one. He agrees.
I play a better-than-average game, which is usually still not as good as his. His double-bogey on the 17th hole and his triple-bogey on the 18th hole lead me to believe the thought of his upcoming pile driver has caused his testosterone to overwhelm his athleticism. I win (and, as you will see, we both win).
We are back in his room. He is relaxed on his comfortable wingback chair, hands tucked under his butt. I begin. 2 minutes, 1 minute, 30 seconds, 15 seconds (I'm all the way to his pubes). "He who may not yet be named" is usually a fairly quiet recipient of my ministrations. Today, he is moaning and squirming. I am in control.
10 seconds, 5 seconds. Then, the final set – basically a stuttering blowjob. His dick swells. It is now beyond his control. I know he enjoys shooting deep in my throat, so I give him that. I shove my face into his crotch and feel his cum travel down the length of his shaft and into me. I lose count of the spurts, because he is squirming so much it takes all my concentration to keep his cock buried in my throat.
Then, my true reward. When it is all over and he has paid his gambling debt in full, he puts his hands on the side of my head and runs his fingers through my hair until they are in the back of my head and holds me on his dick. Fortunately, his cock has started to soften and I have a breathing passage. I kneel with my face in his lap for several minutes of heaven.
This is certainly not part of our routine. Usually, when his blowjob is over, it's over. Heaven.
I slowly wrap my arms around his waist, his dick still in my mouth. We briefly fall asleep.
"He who may not yet be named" never lets me take the pile driver to its completion again. Perhaps, the orgasm is too intense. More likely, the physical intimacy afterwards was too intimidating.
Anyway, in the margin of my pile driver notes is this remark that – when I stimulated "he who may not yet be named"'s nipples - I was able to get all the way to the end of the 15-second interval. Hence, my observation that more nipple stimulation may allow me to prolong the blowjob.
Perhaps, this will be good news for Paul. Fuck Paul, this may be good news for me. (I've never been a big fan of the blow-and-go.)
I anxiously await his next visit. I squelch the urge to visit his room – barely.
Author's note: I hope you enjoyed this snippet from my notebook. Perhaps, one day, I'll just publish the whole thing. Not to worry, I'll change the names to protect the guilty.