Falling for a Cum Vessel, Part 1.

First Savoring: January 26, 2020. Sunday, 2:22 p.m.

He's on his way and I haven't even seen his face. Somehow this athletic tanned white specimen has my address and I actually told him he didn't need to send a face pic, to just arrive. "I'm ready to come get fucked," he writes,  and I'm hard again after cumming that morning.

Knock Knock: Shorts, tight t, black cap. His head tilts up and we lock eyes; brown, but that midway shade between dark and light brown. Handsomer that I would have expected--good bodies can match good faces. I let him in, lead him in front of me through the hall to the bedroom, damn he smells good. My dog barks, why did I adopt her few weeks ago?

He's a good kisser, he removes his shirt. His neck tastes great, he removes his shorts; no underwear, is he a slut? His pecs and back are bricks, he pulls down my shorts. My hands are a flurry trying to touch everything about him, all he can do is drop to his knees and suck my cock like his life depended on it. Not a deepthroater, but he’s so into it that I’m quickly rock hard. He needed this: he needed to serve, and I needed to cum for the second time that day.

He's kneeling and arching his back, he knows he has a bubble butt for showing, for worshiping. It's beckoning for a touch while he picks up the pace sucking. Hole is furry, cheeks lightly furry, soccer legs furry af. Is that sweat I feel on the hole, or...

Doesn't matter. I haven't felt an ass this great since the divorce six months ago. I get him on the bed and bury my head deep. I could die: it's sweet--never thought I'd say it, but his ass is actually fucking sweet. It's not lube, it's a linger of sweat, soap, and water, but more than anything: him. His whole being is now at my mouth and finger tips. He's pushing back, I'm aiming forward. He's moaning and pushing my head into his ass, and I tell him to stand....he's red all over and just waiting for me to make the next move. Should I kiss him? I never have after rimming a total stranger. 

Fuck it: he needs it. I kiss deep and feel our tongues dance. He's lifting his leg onto the bed, turns around again. So more rimming it is, except now we can both sprawl on the bed comfortably. Before diving in I admire the glistening of his hairs catching what light comes through the curtain. He's winks the hole, showing his control and then pushes back. I'm buried and start diving in deep with my tongue. 

"I think I'm in love," I say laughingly. He laughs and tightens, and I know I've caught him off guard. So instead of keeping it awkward I reach for the lube and apply to his hole. It's tighter around my finger, and he winces and moans. I'm ready to go in so I keep him on his belly and enjoy the first entry. He's breathing heavy, I tell him to relax, he does so instantly. He takes direction well. I’m somehow harder and in no time the pace is going.

He's good, follows well. Hole is very responsive to every thrust, every spasm of my dick, every jolt of pre-cum, which he starts asking more about. Is he in a hurry?

I'm enjoying this too much and don't care if he has plans. I pull out and before I can tell him what's next he's turning around and taking my cock in his mouth. I didn't even ask him, he just does it. Only one guy before ever did that and it grossed me out back then.

But this perfect stranger...it's more than technique. It's more than intensity. It's more than the anonymity. It's everything I've ever dreamed about in a man, physically. And he's doing everything I've ever wanted to do to a man but was too scared to. He moans believably, his breath syncing mine. This guy genuinely loves to get fucked. His hole is telling me. He's earned a kiss after sucking my cock so well, after it's been buried deep in his ass. So what if I have hangups about ass to dick to mouth. This guy makes me forget my inhibitions, and all that matters is him. Everything him.

It's intense, sweaty, and just keeps going. Because I'm enthralled and still in shock that I could lay such a 10, I'm more concerned with him. He’s on his back, I pull out, lift his legs to his chest and just stare at his hole. It’s fucking perfect. I go into for the eat, my first time ever eating a hole I had been plowing. I never even ate my ex's ass after fucking him, but the urge to lick that hole, bury my face deep between those perfect cheeks, I need to know what I'm missing out on. Without thinking, I'm tongue deep. Fuck, he tastes even better than before. Is that even possible?

He keeps asking if I'm going to cum and I keep cursing myself for having cum in the morning. Why couldn't I? Why wouldn't I? 40 minutes later, on his back with one left along my chest, he's cumming and spewing all over his chest. He's heaving with every thrust and squirt, and his hole tightens like a spigot. He's sweaty and sex funky just the way he should be. He even lies two minutes looking at the sweaty sheets, at my scrawny frame, dazed. Asks if I’m going to cum and I can tell my response disappoints. I kiss him, but he’s less into it than before. 

The usual "that was fun" and "I was just at the gym," lines. Dressing. "I'll walk you out," I tell him, and he smiles to the side like if he thinks I'm joking.

Outside, his eyes catch the light like the gold obsidian you can only find in Mexico. I tell him my name, my real name for a change and he tells me his, which is the fake name I always give to tricks. I chuckle and he just looks at me, maybe my dimples caught him off guard. Says he works for a company in town after I ask my dumb questions to see if we might fuck again.

"Ok, I'm parked up the way, bye," and I decide to let him get to his car alone, presumably parked far for discretion. From my driveway watching him walk away I lift my fingers to my nose and close my eyes to inhale. I stare at his back, good posture, that ass on the verge of badonking, and has an interesting walk. He’s about to turn the corner and so under my breath I whisper the same, laughable words I said earlier while eating him out. It would be nearly a year before I'd taste him again.