Addicted To CockSucking Gay free porn video

I love cock.

I love everything about it.

The variety of shapes. The upward curve that often makes me gag even on a smaller cock. The downward curve that slides into my mouth so smoothly.

The variety of lengths. Most cocks are five inches, give or take. Yet some are smaller... a four-inch cock is easy to suck without effort. A ten-inch snake is a massive task.

The variety of thicknesses. Some are almost pencil thin and feel like sucking a blood-warm milkshake through a straw, while others are so thick I can feel my mouth being stretched.

The variety of color. Every pussy is pink. Sure, it may be surrounded by black or brown or white or some other more exotic shade, but the pussy itself is pink. Maybe it's an intriguing tracery of dark and light pinks, but pink, nevertheless. A cock on the other hand, comes in every racial shade. And beyond the seven or so races, it's painted in an ethnic rainbow that defies race. A cock isn't concerned with racial history, a cock is a pleasure piece with the inherent purpose of bringing fulfillment, regardless of the race of the cock wielder, or the race of the cock sucker.

When a cock is being worshipped (and a true cock sucker understands the privilege given to him to be allowed to worship this cock), there is no race, no religion, no gender. Just cock plus mouth equals worship.

That said, at times race plays an enormous role (pun again intended) when the eager cock sucker finds himself worshipping a BBC.

My point, insofar as this ramble has one, is that I love cock.

Which declaration could easily lead you to assume I'm gay.

I'm not.

I've been married for twenty-three years. To a wonderful woman, not a guy. Happily married, no less. The love of my life still even blows me. Although not as often as she did ten years ago. We still fuck at least once a week. In the bedroom I'm the dominant, she's the submissive. She's walked along a beach in Mexico with a prominent load of cum on her race because I told her to, not allowing her to come until someone younger than she wiped the cum off her face, knowing what it was; I fucked her in the ass for the first time on our wedding night, and countless times since. That first time she only allowed it because I ordered her to, but ever since I had allowed her the repeated experience.

Yet, although we both enjoyed my being in charge in the bedroom with my beautiful wife... oddly I was drawn to another side of myself I didn't know existed until I hit my early forties.

My so-called midlife crisis didn't include buying a car I didn't need.

No, my midlife crisis began when I read some stories that featured gay sex. At first I just skimmed past the gay scenes in stories that were mostly heterosexual. Eventually I was reading them investing my full attention. Before I knew it, I was reading many stories that were exclusively gay. Mostly ones where straight guys were turned into cock suckers. (But this isn't one of those stories; in this one I'm already a devoted cock sucker from the git-go, except for these several flashback paras.)

I couldn't explain it, even to myself, but those stories, that theme, made me incredibly hard. My orgasms from reading that type of stories were more intense.

Although once I'd come, and the head on my shoulders regained control of my body, I was ashamed at what I'd read, and how much it had turned me on.

The problem was, I'm a supplier of replacement machine parts to over fifty utility companies across five states, so my job requires me to spend many nights alone in hotels.

I won't bore you with the details, but when Craigslist was still alive and well... I eventually sucked my first cock in a hotel room. I simply walked the few blocks from my own hotel to my assignation, entered his room, he had thoughtfully provided a pillow on the floor for my knees' comfort, and without saying a word, I dropped before him, fished his cock out from his underwear, and took the flaccid member in my mouth. I would learn later it was a smallish cock as cocks go, and he was a quick shooter. Within three minutes I was swallowing my first man's cum.

I slunk out, returned to my hotel room, and brushed my teeth as a maelstrom of conflicting and emotion-provoking thoughts spun around inside me.

-I sucked a cock

-I sucked a cock, you pathetic homo

-I swallowed cum

-You'd better brush all that cum out of your mouth, you pathetic homo

-I was mortified I had done it

-I felt guilty I had done it

-I swore I wouldn't do it again.

Yet, a month later I was in another hotel room, sucking a bigger cock, and swallowing another load.

Cycles of guilt and denial, interspersed with ones of hunger and lust, continued plaguing me for months.

I'd arrive in a new city.

I'd check in.

I'd check Craigslist.

I'd scold myself for checking Craigslist.

I'd call my wife and have a vanilla conversation.

I'd recheck Craigslist.

I might reply with a couple of feelers to guys looking to get their dicks sucked.

While I waited impatiently, my lust for cock growing quickly... like it always did... I created my own ad.

In town on business and looking for cock to suck.

Come all over my face or down my throat, shooter's choice.

I can come to you, or able to host in my hotel room downtown.

I'd click Send and begin reading online stories of erotica. Sometimes I'd get a response from one of the people I'd responded to, sometimes I'd get responses to my own ad. I knew I was getting myself in deep, as every time my phone binged to let me know I had a new message, I got excited.

More often than not, although sometimes it kept me up (!) long into the night, I left my hotel and went somewhere to suck a cock; very rarely, the guys would come to me.

-at 2:30am I once drove fifteen minutes to suck a college guy's dick in a Humpty's bathroom.

-once after midnight I walked to a nearby hotel and sucked a dick while the man chatted with his wife on the phone as if nothing unusual was happening.

-took an uber to a condo and then sucked my first black cock while he watched porn on his phone.

-went to a nearby college to suck the fattest dick I'd ever personally encountered.

-headed to a guy's garage and sucked his cock through a makeshift glory hole.

-sucked an 18-year-old's dick in his backyard, and after taking a massive facial he ordered me not to wipe off the cum until I got back to my hotel and was actually inside my room... which I obeyed, even though I got some strange looks as I passed through the lobby.

-wilder, went up three flights to a all guy party and sucked five guys, although only one to completion, and watched a guy ride a cock.

-the wildest, went to a guy's house and sucked his dick while his wife watched and they both called me names.

Every time I stayed overnight somewhere, I always got dick.

It felt kind of like getting a new gift on Christmas morning every time I got a new cock and unwrapped it from inside his pants and underwear.

Every one of them different.

Every one of them exciting.

This continued for a couple of years before the devastating decision by Craigslist to lose tons of revenue by ending the personal ads.

Dumb fucks!

My cornucopia of endless dick dried up like the Nevada desert.

Occasionally I'd be in a city where I still had the contact info for a willing cock, but that was rare.

I went through withdrawal, which was almost as bad as giving up smoking when I got married. (As I mentioned before I ruled in the bedroom, but when we weren't playing our marriage was very much give and take.)

Also, although after a while I had made peace that I was a cock sucker... a married cock sucker... I lived in a secret world where I couldn't reveal my sexual encounters to anyone I wasn't sucking, or my identity to anyone I was.

Couldn't tell my buddies at work: 'God, I took a massive load all over my face last night.'

Couldn't tell my best friend: 'Man, I ended up at a hotel with three college basketball players and sucked all three for over an hour while they played basketball on their Xbox.'

Couldn't tell my wife about my amazing accomplishment: 'Sweetheart, I deep throated a black cock for the first time.'

I was a lonely cock sucker.

Yes, I still fucked my wife.

Yes, we both still enjoyed it.

But I desperately wanted someone to talk to about my secret side.

I tried other online sex sites, mostly with large dollops of disappointment, and eventually ended up on Grindr.

The site was okay.

A pic of my chest was good enough to get responses... although often they were just from fellow cock suckers.

I did find a few cocks though. Including once, out of desperation, one in my own city, albeit on the other side of town.

That said, more nights than not post-Craigslist, I struck out.

They'd want pictures of my face that I wouldn't send them.

They'd be all talk but no action.

In many ways it was like my college days when I was trying to get laid: occasionally I got lucky, but more often than not I struck out.

Yet what I really wanted was two things:

-a regular cock I could suck whenever the craving consumed me.

-someone to talk to about it in a non-judgmental way.

Then, this Christmas season I managed to find both in a rather unorthodox way... well, I was still judged, but in a way I was okay with.

.....

For the first time ever, my eighteen-year-old daughter was bringing a boyfriend over for our Christmas Eve dinner... a tradition that went back dozens of generations (not the boyfriend coming over, but the Christmas Eve dinner where you were allowed to open one present before Christmas Morning).

I wasn't optimistic about meeting the boyfriend. Karen was a daddy's girl, and so far I had hated every guy she'd ever brought home. Truth was, her current boyfriend Dwight and she had been dating for eight months, and it seemed serious.

Also, after quite a few bad boys, Dwight was, like his name implied, scrawny and nerdy. He was majoring in accounting and she in marketing. They met while working on a cross-unit assessment, and somehow hit it off.

So if he was anything like me at his age, he wasn't too experienced with girls.

Anyway, I hadn't sucked a dick in three weeks, so when my wife asked me to run to the grocery store and pick up a few last-minute items like she did every Christmas Eve, I logged into Grindr while I was on the road. To my surprise, a couple of new prospects were nearby. I never hooked up with ones nearby, but I often chatted with them (as I always shut off my GPS feature when I was at home on the rare occasions I used Grindr.

As I rolled to a stop sign I checked out a chubby guy like me, called Bottoms Up, and another named Bigcockforall.

A name like Bottoms Up implied he wanted someone to come and fuck him. A part of me was curious about getting fucked, but I wasn't remotely interested in fucking a guy. I could fuck my wife just fine, thanks.

On that note, in the past few months I had explored solo anal sex. I started with a three-butt-plug set. The first plug was really small, and I barely felt anything. The second hurt somewhat, but after a while I got used to it. The 'Big Butt Plus' was too big, and I gave up after a few attempts. I then bought a suction cup cock I could ride to fuck; it was kind of fun but awkward; but finally I found a vibrating prostate toy that was quite stimulating, and mixing it with a fleshlight, I had some amazing orgasms.

Point being, I would never fuck a guy, eat out a pussy or fuck another woman... anything I could do with my wife I considered cheating.

On the other hand, sucking a dick or maybe, just maybe, getting ass fucked was something I couldn't do with my wife.

Yes, I do know what pegging is... but I just couldn't find a way to bring that up in conversation with Karen without feeling like less of a man.

The other ad from Bigcockforall was quite intriguing.

It didn't say how close he was, but his summary made my mouth water.

Eight inches of hard dick for any eager cocksucker. Prefer Daddies who love teen cock.



He was white.



A top.



Discreet.

He sounded perfect. I had sucked cocks of all ages.

Over 60... they take an eternity to come, and after my really working over a cock, they sometimes didn't even reward me with their load.

Eighteen and just discovering the power a big cock can have over middle-aged married men like me. They always came buckets and soon... sometimes twice.

And all ages between.

But there was something extra taboo about sucking the cock of a guy the same age as my son Carter. I can't explain it, but it was a major turn on. And no, I didn't remotely want to suck my son's cock, but a couple of his friends looked like they had decent packages.

Over time, as pathetic as it sounds, a cock sucker becomes a crotch stalker.

Looking for the bulge. Looking for that potential next cock in his mouth.

At the next red light, I sent a message:

You sound like you could use a cock sucker right now.

I drove and kept checking for my phone to flash blue and give me that Grindr alert sound.

After a couple minutes, which seemed like an eternity, (as I mentioned, being a cock sucker is a surreal lonely world and pathetic existence... waiting for cock, sucking cock, swallowing a load or sometimes two, brief satisfaction, craving cock... repeat).

This is what a cock sucker becomes.

Addicted.

Addicted to the excitement of finding cock.

Addicted to the rush when it suddenly appears a cock may be available.

Addicted to the adrenaline pulse when a setup is made.

Addicted to the mouth watering, cock hardening anticipation of the cock you're about to see, suck, and service.

Addicted to that first moment when you see that magnificent cock (and almost all cocks are magnificent in their diverse beauty) waiting for you.

Addicted to the thrill of a cock in your mouth, gradually hardening because of you.

Addicted to the sensations of happily bobbing on a hard cock.

Addicted to the suspense of how long it might take until he cums in your mouth or on your face... or best, cumming down your stretched-open throat.

Addicted to the verbal treatment a cock sucker sometimes gets, and how it somehow turns you on to be called a cock sucker or a faggot.

Addicted to the final grunt before the cum erupts from a magnificent cock.

Addicted.

But also cursed.

No sounding boards to talk to about your addiction.

About your cravings.

Your desires.

The response from Bigcockforall was:

Are you a Daddy cock sucker?

I loved being called a cock sucker.

I slyly typed while driving, needing to respond quickly and to look as eager as I was:

Yes, sir.

My usual submissive response, which allowed even a much younger top to know instantly I was a submissive cock sucker.

I pulled into the grocery store's parking lot, hoping he was close by, when he responded:

So you'd take my big load all over your face or down your throat.

My cock was hard as steel.

I typed back, dying to feel a cock in my mouth, a load on my face or down my throat:

Yes, sir. I would swallow every drop of your cum or take the warm load all over my face.

I got out and headed in to grab the few items my wife needed.

I was disappointed when the next beep wasn't a Grindr alert, but a text from my wife. She also wanted me to pick up whipping cream. I texted back I would and... phooey!... she texted back:

Hurry.

SIGH.

To make matters worse, I wasn't getting any response from the eighteen-year-old.

God, I hated waiting.

It made me feel more pathetic.

More dependent.

So exacerbating my pathetic dependency, I texted back:

Can you host?

If he could, I would find a way to get there before going home. My wife would be annoyed, but at this juncture my craving for cock was controlling my very being.

I'd finished getting the groceries and was standing in line when he texted back:

Often at my dorm. At the moment I'm at my girlfriend's family's house for Christmas.

Shit.

But maybe a possible regular.

The college campus was on the other end of the city. Only catch, my daughter also went there.

I responded, accepting I wasn't getting any cock today:

Well, think of me the next time you want to dump a load in a Daddy's cock sucking mouth.

I'd paid for the groceries when he texted back:

Are you actually a Daddy? I love face fucking men with k**s.

For some reason, the question only made me hornier. I answered in the middle of the busy parking lot: Yes. I have two k**s.

I'm not sure why I revealed how many.

I got into the car after getting a glare from a lady driver for being in her way while I loaded my trunk.

He responded, once I was in the car:

Do your k**s know you are a cock sucking, cum craving slut?

My cock flinched with each nasty word. I squeezed my cock spasmodically with my hand. Before becoming a cock sucker I'd always thought only a girl could be called a slut.

Yet the first time I was called a slut, while bobbing on a cock in an SUV in a darkened park, I knew it applied very well to a guy like me as well.

A slut is someone who has random sex with lots of people. I guess that was me.

I responded:

No. Neither does my wife.

I drove home, and I was only a couple blocks away when he responded:

I'll be using that cock sucking, cum swallowing mouth of yours very, very soon.

I responded, really wishing soon was now:

I can't wait.

I pulled into the driveway when I got another text:

Are you in pantyhose?

I often wore pantyhose under my suits at work, and always in the hotel room when I was making my five-state rounds... I loved the feeling of pantyhose on my cock, sans underwear. It was mentionable that I could be a pantyhose cock sucker on my Grindr profile.

But at home, I never did.

I answered:

Not today. I have family over.

He replied almost instantly, as I had just enough time to get out of the car:

Put them on now.

Figuring it was harmless I responded, even though I had no intention of following through:

Yes, sir.

I was about to log out of Grindr, as I couldn't have it going off at home, when my daughter came out to help me with the groceries. I hurriedly stowed my phone in my jacket, popped the trunk, and carrying the few groceries, my daughter and I went inside. She really needn't have bothered, but as I said earlier she was a daddy's girl, and I considered it a sweet gesture.

Getting caught up in the havoc of the day, Christmas Eve always being chaotic, I hung up my jacket and left my phone in it.

It wasn't until an hour later, when my wife asked me to share the pictures from our Christmas party last week, that I remembered my (Grindr-vulnerable) phone.

"I left it in my jacket."

She offered, starting to get up, "I'll grab it."

I jolted up, "No, no, I can get it."

"You okay, Mr. Devers?" Dwight asked, noticing my urgent reaction.

"Yeah, yeah," I nodded. "I'll go get it. I need to go the washroom anyway."

I hurried to my jacket, grabbed the phone and scurried to the bathroom.

I had five messages from Grindr.

All five from him:

I expect a sissy like you to be in pantyhose for whenever I might summon you.

You will always address me as sir.

I will address you as Daddy cock sucker.

I plan to come all over your face tonight.

Are you in pantyhose now? You better be. Send me a picture of your feet or cock in pantyhose in the next ten minutes or you'll never get my big cock in your cock sucking mouth.

Fuck.

That last one was sent just two minutes ago.

I had eight minutes to obey.

I urgently felt the need to obey.

I had some pantyhose hidden in my office.

I left the bathroom, rushed to my office downstairs, which luckily didn't require me to go past the dining room where my family was, pulled out a pair of tan pantyhose and tugged them on.

Another message:

5 minutes.

Trying to go faster made it worse and took longer, but then I had them on.

I took a half dozen selfies of my cock... somehow I just knew that was what he'd want to see. In the pics it was semi-hard.

Another message:

3 minutes.



This one included a picture of his own cock. Hard. Glorious. Big.

As I took another picture, my wife Karen knocked on the door, startling me, "Are you, okay, dear?"

I stammered, feeling like I'd been caught in a sexual act, "Y-y-yes."

"You sure?" she asked, sounding concerned, as I quickly got dressed. Pants, socks, shoes.

"I just got a bit of an upset stomach," I answered, which suddenly felt true, as this conversation had my stomach churning.

"Why are you in your office then?"

"I was looking for a charger for my phone?" I lied.

"Okay," she said. "Take some Pepto Bismol, it's in the medicine cabinet upstairs."

"Okay."

"Hurry up."

"I'll be right there."

Most men would see this dangerous interchange as a sign to bail.

But not a cock sucker.

A cock sucker will do everything in his power to keep his secret a secret, but he will also do whatever he can to get the promised cock in his mouth, eventually if not sooner.

Another text:

1 minute.

I chose a picture from the ten I'd taken and pressed Send.

I then quickly deleted all the other pics.

I headed back upstairs, first storing my normal underwear in my desk.

We finished dinner, while the entire time I wanted to go back on Grindr.

We had dessert.

We opened presents.

We adjourned to the living room to admire the tree, have a few drinks and play cards.

I excused myself after a few hands to go to the washroom and, of course, to check my phone, that I had left in the office.

I had four messages:

Not a bad cock for a cock sucker.

I was flattered. I knew from my online research that many cock suckers had tiny cocks, which was part of the psychology of why they became cocksuckers. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending) I had no such excuse. Mine wasn't huge, but it was above average.

I bet you want my cum for dessert, Daddy cock sucker.

God, did I ever. I would do almost anything to somehow be able to suck that big cock and swallow that load.

The Christmas present you want for Christmas Eve is wrapped in my pants.

Indeed, all I wanted for Christmas Eve was a big teen cock... and its cum.

Shit, you're very close to where I am.

My eyes went wide.

I realized I hadn't shut off the location feature.

Shit!

What a careless mistake!

I quickly rectified that oversight before answering:

I'd love cum for dessert, sir. Alas, I can't get out of the house tonight.

I checked out his dick pic one last time, feeling my mouth water.

I turned my phone onto mute, but kept Grindr open. I couldn't help it, I couldn't explain it, but each response made me giddy.

God, I needed a cock so fucking bad.

I returned to the cards and Dwight asked, "Mr. Devers, Mrs. Devers tells me you have a large record collection."

"I've told you to call me Karen," my wife scolded him playfully.

"Sorry, force of habit," he apologized.

"You like records?" I asked.

"Yeah, especially from the sixties."

"No way," I said, the late sixties were my gems.

"Yeah, early Stones, Blood Sweat and Tears, Mike Bloomfield," he listed.

"You know who Mike Bloomfield is?" I asked, stunned. He was to most people a forgotten guitar man, d**gs getting him like many, way before his time.

"Yeah, his guitar on Bob Dylan's Maggie's Farm Live was epically life-changing."

My daughter added, "Dwight is the lead guitarist in a blues band."

"I didn't know that," I said.

He shrugged, "it's no big deal."

"Have you heard of Electric Flag?" I asked, that being a band that briefly revolutionized blues and rock. Although almost no one still seemed to know them, which was a shame. Their first album revolutionized rock by mixing guitars and horns.

"Yeah, but only on iTunes," he said.

"Yuck," I said, iTunes in my opinion being a serial killer of the high fidelity only possible with analog. "Let's go to my office, and I'll play you their album the way it was supposed to be heard,"

"That'll be groovy," he said, hip to the jive.

"Groovin' is indeed easy," I joked, that being one of their songs. "Anyone else want to come?"

"No, you two dinosaurs go and do some male bonding," Karen said.

"Yes, and I'll go play the new Taylor Swift album," my daughter said.

"Blasphemy," I said, hating almost all music after the Rolling Stones' Some Girls album and Led Zeppelin's II.

"Lover, lover," my twenty-one year old daughter began singing. Worse yet, my wife joined in.

"I'm outta here," I said. "Come on, Dwight."

"Yes, these Generation Z gals are killing my ears."

The women sang louder as my son said, "I'm going to check the sports highlights."

I led Dwight downstairs to my office, which was really a study, and was even larger than my bedroom. I flipped through my vinyl. I had over a thousand albums, including every American Rolling Stones pressing of their albums and all but two of the British releases.

Unlike most record collections, which would be in alphabetical order based on band, (the big controversy being did you put a bands collection in alphabetical or chronological order), I had them in order of ranking.

This is absurd, I know, but I had a typed list of my top 1000 albums of all time, I owned 987 of them, and although every year I would reorganize the list based on my current mood, new albums purchased, and so forth... Electric Flags' first real album (they did some whacked movie soundtrack to a d**g movie called The Trip) was always in my top ten. Their second and final album was a major disappointment and although I had a copy, it didn't make my top 1000, as only the song Sunny salvaged it.

I put on the first track of side one, a wicked blazing cover of Killing Floor, and said, "Now this is how you listen to music."

"Agreed," he said.

"Want a drink?" I asked.

"Sure."

"Vodka and coke, right?"

"Yes, please," he agreed.

I made him a drink. Made myself a gin and tonic and felt my phone vibrate. I slyly pulled it out and checked the message:

Want that dessert right now?

I sure the fuck did, but obviously that was impossible. I quickly responded:

Would love to, but I can't leave right now.

I put the phone back in my pocket and said, as I handed Dwight the drink, "I love their ambitious use of horns."

He was typing on his phone as he agreed, "Yes, they were the precursor to the more popular bands like Blood, Sweat and Tears, and Chicago."

"You certainly know your music history," I said, impressed, as my phone vibrated again.

Since he'd had his phone out throughout our one-on-one conversation, I figured I could check mine without being rude. It said:

The dessert is warm and ready now. All you have to do is fish it out of my pants...Mr. Devers.

My eyes went wide.

I looked up at Dwight, who was smiling ever so cockily.

"I locked the door, Daddy cock sucker," Dwight said, the words coming from his mouth sounding so natural, and yet so way out of left field.

Even though the answer was obvious, I asked, "You're Bigcockforall?"

"And you're SubDaddy, aka Daddy cock sucker," he said; "Pleased ta meetcha."

"But you're dating my daughter," I said, trying to process why he would need to go on Grindr.

"Yes, but she doesn't like sucking cock," he said, exhibiting a confidence I hadn't seen in him before. "But older cock suckers like you do."

"Dwight, we can't do this."

"What? Your Christmas Eve present is right here waiting," he said, grabbing his crotch. "All you have to do is come over here and unwrap it."

Oh fuck.

I wanted his cock.

But my wife and k**s were just upstairs.

"Right now, Daddy cock sucker; I've been waiting patiently to get you alone since I realised it was you."

"When did you know?" I asked, as if that mattered anymore.

"When you arrived home and your tracker informed me you were five meters away from me."

"Shit! I forgot to shut off the tracker."

"Fortuitously for us both, you did indeed. Now come unwrap your Christmas Eve present," he said. "I think you'll really like it."

"But you're still my daughter's boyfriend," I pointed out again, desperately wanting to suck his cock, but knowing it was wrong.

"And you're my brand new anytime-I-need-a-blow-job-Daddy-cock-sucker-in-law," he countered.

"But they're just upstairs," I pointed out, even though the anytime-blow-job idea was very, very appealing.

"And they'll just remain upstairs talking for hours," Dwight rebutted. "Plus, they all hate your music, which, by the way, is a crying shame. You've got great taste in music!"

"Thanks."

"Now come get your present," he ordered firmly, adding one insistent word, "Now."

"This is wrong," I said, even as I lowered myself before him.

"You're doing your daughter a favour," he said before adding, "and I'm doing one for you."

For the first time since my very first cock, my hands trembled as I unzipped his pants and pulled them down, seeing a nice hard cock entrenched in his underwear.

"Your daughter wouldn't let me fuck her before we came over," he said, "so I have a nice big load saved up for you."

"This is so wrong," I said again even though I was well past the point of no return, as I pulled his underwear down to reveal the hard cock I'd only seen in a picture.

"Like my cock?" he asked as I stared at it.

"Yes," I admitted.

"Tell me what you want to do with it," he ordered, taking complete control of the situation and turning the hierarchy of our relationship upside down.

My mind in full cock sucker mode, I answered with what he wanted to hear, but also what I wanted to do as I took it in my hand, "I want to suck this big hard cock until you come down my throat."

"Not on your face?"

"Not if I'm making my decision freely. But in this situation, a far better answer is, 'Anywhere you want to come'," I replied, just wanting his cock in my mouth, and adding, accepting my position below him, accepting we were doing this and I was under his absolute control even while my entire family was upstairs, "Sir."

"Suck it, Daddy cock sucker," he ordered.

I didn't hesitate.

I didn't worry that he was my daughter's boyfriend.

I didn't worry that my wife, my daughter and my son were in the house.

I opened my mouth and took in his cock.

Understanding time was of the essence, I began bobbing like the hungry cum slut I always became once a cock was in my mouth.

Nothing else mattered.

Just the cock.

Just the cum I needed to extract.

There was just the cock and my mouth.

"Oh yeah, that's it," he groaned.

I always loved when I heard a guy moan, to give me words of encouragement or call me names. I wanted to know I was doing a good job.

A couple minutes into my furious bobbing, he informed me, "Going forward, I'll be depositing so very many loads in your mouth, Daddy cock sucker."

Part of me loved hearing those words... finally, a regular cock. Someone who knew who I was, and at least occasionally I could talk these things over with.

On the other hand, my secret could be exposed at any moment. My daughter would be mortified. My marriage could end.

He pulled out and asked, "Do you want to be my regular cock sucker, Mr. Devers?"

I wasn't sure why he was using my formal name instead of 'Daddy cock sucker', but I replied, "Yes, I'd love to be your regular cock sucker, but we need to be careful and keep it a secret from my family."

"Agreed," he said, as he slid his cock back into my mouth and began properly face fucking me.

It had taken me quite some time to get used to being face fucked on the road to becoming a skilled cock sucker. I had gagged a lot, but eventually I learned how not to. One key is lots of saliva. This, of course, is great advice for any blow job, but it's particularly critical for a face fucking.

Once I'd gotten better at deep throating a cock, I was also better at getting face fucked.

It's also important to focus on breathing through your nose (I gave a guy head once with a cold, and let's just say it didn't go awfully well).

Anyway, Dwight slammed all eight inches of his into my mouth with no care for me, only for his own personal pleasure.

Which made my cock ache.

"Oh yeah, get ready for my load, cum slut," he warned, not even a minute into his chin ball-drumming.

I appreciated when I knew it was coming so I could prepare; I still did gag on occasion, if the cum came when I wasn't expecting it.

A few more strokes, and he grunted and deposited a massive load into my mouth.

The gooey, salty treat slid down my throat and warmed my belly, as a rush of adrenaline coursed through me like it always did when I successfully extracted a load.

"Oh fuck, take it all," he said nastily but softly, as he slowed down and spewed the last of his cum into me.

Once he was done, he pulled out and said, "Well, you're a lot better than your daughter at doing that. And far more willing, I might add."

"Thanks," I said, realizing just how weird a compliment that was.

"I mean she's a great fuck," he said, looking down at me, "but her oral leaves much to be desired."

I didn't like the idea he was fucking my daughter or that he was being so open about her being a great fuck, yet I wordlessly licked a drop of cum hanging from his cock.

"Do you take it in the ass?" he asked.

"No," I said, although after a brief pause.

"But you're curious to try," he assessed, as he pulled his pants up.

I stood up too, as Electric Flag continued to rock. "Not really," I lied.

"Oh, you do want to be a bottom boy too, I can see it in your eyes," he smirked.

"No," I tried to insist, even though a big part of me was curious how different a real cock would feel like inside my ass compared to my toys.

"Be a good Daddy cock sucker, and maybe I'll let you become my two hole fuck slut," he said, before adding, "Kim only takes it in the ass when she's either drunk or high."

"Please! No more information about my daughter," I objected, just now learning my daughter did d**gs and took it in the ass.

"You sure?" he asked. "You know she also loves eating pussy?"

"Dwight, enough!" I said, not able to handle all this information about my sweet daughter. I mean of course I knew she had sex, who doesn't? But in my world I wanted to think she did it rarely, and it didn't include oral sex, being a good fuck, taking it in the ass, getting high or eating pussy.

I mean if I learned that any other woman in the world ate pussy, including my wife, I would find it incredibly hot. But not my sweet angel Kim.

"Okay, okay," he said. "I'll just use your mouth for now."

"Thank you," I said, and then realized it sounded like I was thanking him for using my mouth, and not because he was agreeing to stop spilling unwanted beans about my daughter.

"No worries," he said. "By the way, I can probably get you a lot of cock on campus, if you want."

"I don't do this very much," I said, not wanting him to think I was some cock-crazed guy, even though I was.

"Yeah, right," he scoffed.

"Just keep this between us," I said, trying to regain some of the hierarchy of his listening to me with respect, like he had earlier today.

"As long as you're a good cock sucker for me whenever I need to bust a nut, your sissy secret is safe with me," he said.

"Thanks," I replied ludicrously.

He walked over to me and placed his hand on my cock possessively and rubbed. "I do like seeing a sissy's cock in pantyhose."

"Oh, you don't have to do that," I groaned, even though it felt great.

"I'm not a cock sucking faggot like you, Mr. Devers," he said as he rubbed my cock. "I just like seeing my sluts in pantyhose. You've noticed I'm sure, that Kim wears them all the time now."

Ouch! Now we're both his sluts! "No, I hadn't noticed," I said, although I had. Not in a sick way, but since she had never worn them when she lived at home, it was noticeable.

"Yes, she wears them for me," he said, rubbing my cock. "Just like her Daddy Dearest does now."

"Oh," I groaned, his hand feeling really good.

"Usually thigh highs though, and no panties," he continued piling on his unwanted revelations about my sweet daughter.

"Please stop telling me these things," I moaned, close to coming.

"That way, I can just slam into her at any moment," he said, and then added, "or her roommate can dive in and munch on that shaved snatch."

"Oh fuck!" I grunted, as I came in my pantyhose.

"Merry Christmas, Daddy cock sucker," he said, moving his hand away as I trembled and spasmed.

"Thanks," I said, ashamed at coming while he spoke so disgustingly about my daughter.

Suddenly there was a bang on the door, and my daughter called through, "Why is this door locked?"

I quickly pulled up my pants and opened the door. "Sorry, we didn't want my so-called terrible music to interrupt your visit with your mother."

"Ready to go, honey?" Kim asked.

"Yeah, sure," Dwight said.

Kim gave me a hug and said, "See you tomorrow afternoon, Daddy."

"Of course, honey," I agreed.

"Yes, we'll continue our conversation tomorrow," Dwight said.

"I'm looking forward to it," I said, already imagining his big cock back in my mouth.

"I'm so happy you two are getting along," Kim said, genuinely happy.

"He's the first guy you've ever brought home I liked," I said, glancing slyly at his crotch.

"Yes, and your Dad is really one of a kind," Dwight added.

"Well, it's great to see my dad taking a liking to you."

"Indeed it is," Dwight said. "Merry Christmas, Mr. Devers."

"Merry Christmas both of you," I said, even though it was still a few hours before actual Christmas.

They headed upstairs and I followed them, the cum in my pantyhose feeling all sticky.

As they left a few minutes later, all I could think about was the Pandora's Box I had opened.

One I was pretty sure I had no intention of ever closing.

I finally had a regular cock.

I finally could easily quench my cum cravings.

I finally had someone I could (more or less) discuss the cock sucking side of my life with.

And perhaps sometime soon, I could explore my fantasy of taking a cock in the ass.

Merry Christmas, indeed.