Not too long ago (last year) I had an evening with a guy named Bobbie. We had connected via the Adultfriendfinder web site. He liked to be called Susan, though he was not particularly femme. He dressed in tights and skirt, till he took them off for me. He had volunteered to teach me the fine art of sucking his dick because I had deceptively allowed him to believe I was a straight guy with a temptation to try it, with his kind instruction. He was turned on by the prospect of introducing my virgin mouth to a new skill set. I drove down the coast to his neighborhood, thirty miles or so, early evening about dusk. He met me at my knock, opening a peep hole first, then showing me into his living room with ceramic tile floor. I noted the surface because I expected to be on my knees before long. I was uncertain whether we would be going to a bedroom or would remain in the living room, the latter was the case. He sat me down and poured us small glasses of wine. He outlined for me his lesson plan for my "on the dick training." He produced a stick of red lipstick as I had mentioned my desire to wear it during my lesson.
I could smell the acrid odor of marijuana smoke and surmised that he was a habitual user and his house smelled of it. That idea was reinforced by two things: Firstly, his occupation was a musician, notorious users of pot, and, secondly, his testicles were relatively small. That, I've been told is a side effect of heavy pot usage. Of course, we hadn't gotten to his testicles yet.
After a verbal orientation and initial instruction, he turned down the lights somewhat and did a little dance for me as he stripped down to his black nylon panties. I could see from the expression on his face that he was feeling sexy and wished to arouse me with his movements and state of undress. I just smiled at what I thought must be going through his mind. I was sitting on the couch. His stripper routine complete, he approached me head on and offered me a taste of his cock, pulling it out of his panties. It had a big mushroom head, no real flavor or smell. I did as I was told and he withdrew it and put it back inside his panties. He had my face in his crotch, clean smelling freshly showered, and had me squeeze and massage his buttocks with my hands while pulling him onto my face. His ass was fit and muscular in my hands and it was a pleasant sensation for me to rub my face on his cock and balls which were still inside the nylon panties. He had me pull his panties down to the floor and he kicked them away with his bare foot. I was instructed to stroke his cock and kiss it, and to lick the shaft. As I was doing so, I rubbed the head all around my mouth and chin, causing him to admonish me that my slight beard stubble was painful on his sensitive glans, so I should use only my tongue and mouth. I appreciated the lesson there. I do like to be good at my task. After a few minutes of preliminary cocksucking, we changed positions to him sitting, laying back actually, on the couch, me on my knees finally on that tile floor. The floor was clean and smooth, there was no discomfort for me. He applied the red lipstick to my mouth and I began in earnest to take his prick as deep as it would go. It was a fat headed deal, not that long, but nicely stiff and smooth. At first he controlled with both his hands on my head setting the pace and depth, telling me "tongue it hard" and I would swirl my tongue all around the head and crest,then "go deep" and I would take it all into my tonsils and upper throat. Soon he stopped instructing and took his hands away, letting me bob my head and suck away as I pleased. When I looked up into his eyes, he was ecstatic and smiled sweetly at my efforts which continued for a long time, with smacking and slurping sounds, it was all just great. Suddenly, he stopped me.
"Too fast," he said. "Lets make it last a little longer." He sat up and applied more red lipstick to my mouth. "Look's good," he commented. He had me sit next to him on the couch. He pour more wine and we sipped for a few minutes. He took the glass from my hand and put it back on the end table. He put his hand on my neck and caressed me, pulling me toward him. I thought it was time to go back down, I was eager to do it, but he wanted instead to kiss me. And kiss me he did. Never so open and so much tongue, have I ever been kisses like that before. It was like he was going to eat my face, but wow! It really turned me on. My hands were automatically on his cock and it was hard as could be. Kiss, kiss, done, he stood up and I slid down, seated on the floor, back to the couch. How we moved in concert like that, I know not. But in an instant, he was standing over me, fucking my face, his ass twitching with the rapidity of his hip thrusts as he pumped his cock into my mouth as I struggled to keep my teeth from abraiding his dick. I was amazed at how long he lasted, the fucking of my mouth at that fast pace would have ejaculated most men in seconds. On and on, until finally and deliciously, he filled my mouth with a flavorful and nutritous souplike load of cum. Like the tidy and helpful cocksucker I was trained to be, I swallowed it all and licked him clean. Finally, he kissed me long and hard and asked for my evaluation.
"Did you get what you wanted?" he laughed.
"A mouthful," we both laughted.
"Sorry, but I'm done. You will have to leave now."
I was ready to go anyway. I didn't take his phone number, because I was not all that impressed with his dick. I like 'em bigger, longer anyway. But he was a very nice fellow, a good host, and I would do him again if he wanted. Maybe I will drive down the coast sometime and look for his house. Oh, as for me getting off: I like to serve and find it relatively unimportant for me to shoot my stuff. Like the robot in "Millenium Man," who said, "One is glad to be of service."