This incident took place while I was living in San Francisco. I was dating an attractive young woman named Heather. It was a Saturday evening, and she was hosting a party at her apartment in the city. There were lots of people there, drinking and whooping it up. Normally, such events are right up my alley. However, I was in the midst of a particularly busy stretch of work (this was during the heady days of the dot com boom), and was feeling pretty run down from a crazy week. That, combined with the fact that I didn't know a lot of the other people at the party, had me running out of steam earlier than I normally would.
I decided to sneak off to Heather's bedroom and see if I could squeeze in a quick power nap. I figured if I could just grab a few winks, I'd be as good as new.
I managed to slip away without being noticed. The light in Heather's room was low, the sole source a couple of lit candles. I quickly stripped down to my boxers and slid under the covers. As tired as I was, I expected to be out instantly. Instead, I was mildly surprised to discover that I was suddenly feeling quite turned on and sporting an erection. I chalked it up as a Pavlovian response to all the great sex Heather and I had in this bed.
I decided to take matters into my own hands, so to speak. A good masturbation session and I'd be out like a light. With my eyes closed, I slowly peeled the covers back. I pulled the waistband of my boxers down until my swollen member popped out. Slowly I grasped the base of my cock and started moving my hand up and down. My mind quickly went to one of my favorite masturbatory fantasises, of the time I had stradled Heather's chest and jerked off all over her face. Just the thought of it always got me hot in an instant.
After a couple of minutes, I opened my eyes, and got the shock of my life when I saw a man I didn't know leaning against the far wall of the room! I must have been pretty into it, because I never heard a sound. He was looking right at me with a slightly bemused expression on his face.
I instantly grabbed the covers and yanked them back up to my chin. "What the fuck?", I said, totally confused and having no idea what else to say.
"Don't stop on my account", the man replied laconically after a short pause. "I was just enjoying the show."
At this point, I was in a state of combined arousal, near-exhaustion, and utter disbelief, which was serving to lend an entirely surreal edge to the scene. On top of it, the guy gave off this oddly casual air, like there was nothing at all out of the ordinary about the fact that he had slipped into Heather's bedroom to watch me masturbate.
Whether it was a result of these factors or something else, I was momentarily mesmerized. Looking back now, I still don't totally understand why I didn't jump up and kick his ass out of the room. Instead, a few moments passed where nothing happened. His gaze remained fixed on me. The part of my brain that had been engrossed in my fantasies must have still been in control, because the next thing I knew, I was slowly pulling the covers back down, revealing my still raging hard-on.
I tentatively reached my hand back down, not even really believing what I was doing but feeling compelled to proceed nonetheless. Once again, I gripped my shaft firmly and started slowly stroking it. I immediately learned that the sensation of masturbating while being watched - particularly by a stranger, particularly by a MALE stranger - was of a whole different breed from that of simply jerking off solo. I was more turned on than I had ever been. Within moments, I found myself really getting into it. With my left hand, I stroked my balls as my right pumped up and down on my shaft. My eyes closed again, and a few low moans escaped my lips.
A minute or two went by before I heard a sound. I opened my eyes to see the stranger slowly walking over to the edge of the bed. My heart started racing. It was one thing when I thought I was just performing for a detached audience. But now, suddenly, here he was, standing right over the bed.
I continued to stroke myself. A feeling of vulnerability came over me, like I was subtley but assuredly not in control anymore. Suddenly, he reached down and took the hand I was stroking with by the wrist. He slowly lifted it up and placed it over his crotch, which I could see (and now feel) was bulging.
"Why don't you stroke some real meat?", he said.
The butterflies in my stomach turned into a full force hurricane. I was paralyzed, caught between fear and a state of arousal unlike any I had ever experienced. I admit, I had had gay fantasies in the past. And they were disturbingly familiar to this very situation: approached in an almost predatory fashion by a man looking to use me for his pleasure. But it would be an uderstatement to say that I never expected it to actually happen.
For a moment I just let my hand rest on his package, feeling the fullness of it. Instinctively, I started slowly stroking it, very lightly at first, then more firmly, letting my fingers trace the outline of his cock inside his jeans. It felt enormous and hard as steel. I could make out the outline of the head, then ran my fingers down the shaft to his balls. I repeated this several times, my hand trembling with excitement.
"Take it out", he said.
Alright, I thought to myself, this is crazy. I have to snap out of this before it goes too far. No sooner had that thought entered my head, however, than I found myself obeying his command. It was then that I realized we had already reached the point of no return. I was helpless to do anything now other than whatever he told me to.
I reached my other hand up and undid the top button on his jeans. Slowly, I pulled his zipper down, revealing the front of his briefs. I grasped the elastic waistband and gently pulled it back. Out popped a gorgeous cock, long and thick and firm, and pointing straight up. I don't think I had ever seen another man's erect cock in person before, certainly not this close up. Looking back, I can't say for sure how big it was (certainly larger than mine, at any rate), but at that moment, it looked huge.
I wrapped one hand around the shaft. It felt hot to the touch. I didn't need to be told what to do next. Slowly I started stroking it up and down. I couldn't believe how good it felt. After years of being used to the feel of my own swollen member, gripping a larger and unfamiliar one was a total mind-fuck.
This went on for a couple of minutes. The room was silent. I wasn't looking at the guy's face; I was focused solely on his cock. I watched as if in a daze as the foreskin slipped up and over the head each time, before retreating downward. The tip itself seemed to glow a firey purple, as if angry and looking to extract a toll on the nearest victim. His sack drooped just a bit, like low-hanging fruit on a tree.
After a while, he took his shirt off. He then took a step backwards, his cock springing free of my hand. He started taking his pants and underwear down. He bent over and removed them entirely, so that he was standing beside the bed completely naked. It was then I realized he was about to take this little encounter to another level. I didn't know exactly what he had in mind, but I lay braced for whatever was coming next.
He moved forward and kneeled down on the edge of the bed. His movements had an odd, business-like air about them. Although his erection belied his excitement, he proceeded at a deliberate, unhurried pace. He exuded the air of someone who was completely in control of the situation, who knew what he wanted and knew that there was no reason why he wouldn't soon be getting it.
He swung one leg over my body. Just like that, he was straddling me, my arms pinned to my sides by his legs. He inched up a bit, until I was face to face with his tool, waving menacingly in the air over me. A thought flashed through my head that I was like one of those inflatable love dolls, devoid of any feeling or purpose other than to serve their owner.
He wrapped his right hand around the base of his shaft and slowly guided the head of his cock towards my mouth. Instinctively, ever so slightly, my lips parted. There was no need; he clearly wasn't waiting for my acquiescence. Without pause, he pushed himself into my mouth. My lower jaw dropped down to accomodate the bulging head. I felt it's veiny underside slide over my tongue. He fed me another inch or so, then pulled back a bit until my lips were kissing the head of his cock. He pushed back in to the same depth, and repeated this a few times. My mouth began to fill up with saliva, and I realized that he was just doing this to get things lubed up. From the reflection of the candle light, I could see his cock growing slick with my spit.
When he felt I was ready, he released his grip on his member and began fucking my mouth. The sensation was incredible. I was no longer in control of my own orifice; it was his to do with as he pleased. The strokes were slow at first, and long. He didn't try to make me deep-throat him, probably because he knew I was a first-timer and wouldn't be able to handle it. But he seemed to have a knack for feeding me just as much as I could take.
Gradually, he began to pick up the pace. For the first time, he began to show outward signs of arousal (other than his massive erection). He let out a few grunts of exertion and pleasure. I was surprised to realize that I was doing the same, around my mouthful of cock. The sound of us both groaning, mixed with the slight squeaking of the bed as he thrust into me, was a major turnon, and I became aware for the first time that my own hard-on was still throbbing. I wanted to reach down and touch myself, but I couldn't, what with my arms still pinned to my sides. Anyway, it was clear that this wasn't really about my pleasure.
Periodically he would stop thrusting, grab a handful of my hair with one hand, and bob my head up and down on his cock. A couple of times he took it out and rubbed the head around my face, giving me a few light slaps with it.
His excitement continued to grow, and his thrusts became faster, pumping his slick, hot cock in and out of my mouth. My lips felt like they were stretched to the limit. I felt his tool going in just a little deeper each time, until I felt his balls grazing against my chin with each stroke. He had his arms extended now, bracing himself against the wall above my head so that he had better leverage with which to fuck my mouth. I saw his balls begin to tighten. That and the increased urgency of his moans made me realize he was getting close to orgasm. I clamped my lips around his cock and held on for dear life.
Suddenly he let out a loud "Ohhhhhhhhh....". It was the loudest sound that either of us had made since this whole episode started, and it was jarring. I knew that sound well, and yet still found myself surprised by what happened next, as though I hadn't realized all along how this would end.
The first blast of cum hit the back of my throat. Within seconds, my mouth was engorged with his sticky fluid. He pulled his hips back, his cock springing free of my mouth with an audible popping sound. He grasped it with his right hand and gave several quick, short jerks. I felt two trickles of cum slide out of the corners of my lips. The next blast hit me square in the face, splattering over my chin, lips, and nose. Two more came in quick succession, coating my checks and extending up to my forehead and hair. He must not have had an orgasm for weeks, because it seemed to go on for longer than was humanly possible. I was afraid of getting it in my eyes, but I kept them open because I couldn't bear to miss the sight of rope after rope of cum erupting from his cock, covering me. It ran down the sides of my face and neck, going into my ears and soaking the pillow under my head. For the first time, I realized the irony of how this whole situation had started: with me stroking my dick and fantasizing about the facial I had given Heather. Now, I was being given one of my own. The image in my head of Heather's face coated with spunk was now replaced by my own, covered in this stranger's seed.
He finally slowed down. He was breathing heavily. Then, ever so slowly, he tightened his grip on his shaft and milked the last drop of cum. He let it hang there tantalizingly on the tip of his cock for what seemed like ages, before finally depositing it perfectly on my lips, where it slide into my mouth. It was then that I realized that I hadn't yet swallowed the mouthful that he had given me initially. I savored it for a moment longer before gulping it down.
"Holy shit that was hot."
Reality suddenly snapped ferociously back into place. A third voice had spoken. A female voice. Both my and the guy's heads snapped around. There, in a chair across the room, sat Heather. Her sweater was pulled up over her exposed breasts, and her pants and thong were down around her ankles. One hand was furiously massaging her pussy, while the other stroked her tits. She had been watching us. How long, I don't know, but clearly long enough to see her boyfriend get face-fucked and bukkaked.
The guy and I must have both had shocked looks on our faces, because she simply smirked and said, "Don't stop on my account."
But that's a story for another time...