Archive for February, 2003

I placed an ad on Cruising For Sex, advertising expert oral service for masculine men. I had had both good and bad experiences advertising on this site, so I thought I’d give it another shot.

I provide expert head to masculine men. Your brains will be sucked right out through your dick.

I live in Midtown at 24th and V, have a comfortable place, and would like to serve you!

Bears, Blue Collar, Big Muscle are all pluses, but not required. Just be masculine and unpretentious and horny.

So, I get this message from this guy who lives across the river in West Sacramento, in Yolo County. West Sac has a reputation for hookers and tweakers, so I’m a bit apprehensive. I respond to him asking if he has a pic, and attach one of my recent photos. He comes back, saying he doesn’t have a pic (he’s married), but that he would leave if I didn’t want to do it (as if he could stop me from making him leave). I decided that this was reasonable, so I gave him my address, and ask him to let me know when he is coming over. He tells me he’ll be there at around 1330.

Twenty minutes later. 1310. I’m upstairs when I hear a knock on the door. He’s early, I think, and flounce down the stairs, putting my eye up to the peephole in the front door. Oh. My. Gawd.

He’s totally hot. 6′2″ about 260 pounds of thick slabs of masculine muscle covered in silken skin. Blonde, hazel eyes, just the hint of a red goatee. I open the door. “Lord have mercy,” I drawl under my breath. “Come on in.”

He smiles, a quick flash of white teeth. Strong Jaw, but a boyish face. He’s 32 years old.

I tell him to make himself comfortable, and he proceeds to unbuckle his khaki trousers, kick off his shoes, and step out of his pants. Thick fingers slide his navy blue boxer briefs down the ivory columns of his legs. Oddly, he leaves on his jacket and shirt. His meaty hand adjusts his nuts, and he plops himself down onto the sensual red nubuck leather of my sofa.

His prick is already starting to thicken, its transparent skin taking on a scarlet hue. I pull the glass table away from the couch and slowly sink to my knees in front of him, breathing in his scent. He smells of oak forest and mountaintop, earthy and clean.

I look up into his eyes and see the anticipation, the need. I place my hands on his thick thighs, and looking right at him, engulf his hardening cock in my warm mouth, rubbing my nose in his strawberry bush. Yes.

I’m working my tongue all over his meat, concentrating on the base of his head, swirling his still pliable tool around in my mouth like a fine wine. Increasing the amount of suction, I turn my mouth into a vaccuum pump and feel his prick responding, filling out and rapidly hardening.

Bobbing and weaving, my head is like a drunken sewing machine. I pull off to admire my handiwork. Dang, but his dick is thick, with a tiny little head on it. It’s wider than my teeth, so I remind myself to be cautious while I drop back down and deep-throat him. Mike starts moaning. I hold him deep, contracting my throat around the top of his thick slab, and he breathily says, “amazing,” when I dart my tongue out and lick his balls while still deep throating him.

We continue on like this for over an hour, his breathing getting more and more ragged, his eyes occassionally rolling up into his head, fists clench and unclench. All the while he’s getting harder and softer, hard and harder, a solid core covered by a cardinal sheath. He’s starting to turn red. He’s getting close.

I rub my hands together to warm them up and then place my fingertips along his ballsac, feathering his tight nuts. My thumbnails runs along his perineum, fingers along the groin in the cleft of his thigh’s joints. He’s starting to scream, and my dick is rock-hard, too, but this isn’t about that. An enormous load of white-hot cum cannons out of his blaster, scalding and bubbling and pooling on his belly and legs and my beard is coated as well. It smells as good
as the rest of him.

I quickly get up and retrieve a warm washcloth, gently swabbing him down while he floats back to earth. We stand up and he surprised me by grabbing me kissing my on the mouth tenderly, his tongue flickering along my lips. Yes.

We chit-chat about his recent fishing expedition – fresh-caught crab washed down with a good beer. I show him to the door, and he asks if he can come back by soon. I tell him to just let me know and if I can, I’ll be here.

So you see, I really was rewarded for the mercy fuck I gave the night before. Isn’t Karma grand?