Boots

The events of our threesome night moved to an increasingly distant but fun memory. Immediately afterwards I received a quick text from Robyn thanking me for the ‘left of centre’ session and a few words around ‘bye, flying out’.

As the weeks flew by the routine of my life returned to its staid and steady pace of the last few years. The recent installation of fag as domestic servant, had been the only major shift in the pattern of working, drinking, sleeping and repeating. General cleaning maintenance of my boots, clothes and occasionally my truck, had now been outsourced to a guy three doors down who’s name I didn’t actually know. For a blue-collar worker with simple needs, the situation, in theory should have been ‘perfect’.

I knew that if I had told any of my single workmates how good I had it, they would have questioned my sanity to be restless. That didn’t prevent me from being out of sorts. The truth was the night with fag and Robyn had fractured my thinking. Not much in the beginning, but the cracks were growing and irreversibly so.

The discord revolved partly around sex and how satisfied I was with the status quo. I found this strange, given I didn’t consider myself an overly sexual individual. One of the random thoughts which kept emerging was the realisation I’d never had genuine anal sex. I’d been invited three or four times in my adult life by some more adventurous female hook-ups, but the once or twice I tried were abject failures.

After thinking about it, I worked out that in all my encounters with men I was on the receiving end of a head-job. In most cases I had been blown and then departed. Fag’s efforts on Robyn’s night had reordered something in my brain. Now I was dealing with the implications, and I wasn’t even sure what the effects might be.

The one thing I was sure of was, I planned on regular head-jobs like the one I had experienced. With nothing more to go on in my mixed up mind I decided that this would be the starting point. I’d work the rest out as I went along.

The next Friday night I returned from the pub a little less drunk than normal. After the guys dropped me off on their way home I made my way into my quiet residential complex. As I passed fag’s place I decided I was horny. I took two steps back and made my way down his pathway.

I placed his key to the door and let myself in. It was just after 11pm and I found the lounge dark and deserted. Light and moving shadows streamed from the open bedroom next door. The noise I had made when entering had alerted fag that someone was in his house. I was sure it scared him, so I thought I’d let him know who was bumping around in his space.

“Are you there fag?” I asked, a little louder than I probably normally would have. He appeared at his bedroom door, clearly surprised but calm. Did this guy spend his whole life dressed in nothing but boxers? I pointed to his attire which prompted him to immediately remove them. Wow, this guy was always on show.

I moved forward as he backed into the room, head slightly bowed. I stood at the end of his bed and proceeded to free my rapidly thickening cock. Clearly excited, he bound onto the bed and took the job of releasing my manhood from me. He slowly unzipped and eased my jeans down below my arse.  Next he raised my tee shirt up past my abs to my chest. I raised my arms as he slipped the fabric over my head and tossed it to the side.

I hadn’t expected to be semi naked, I was intending to just unzip my fly but as he pushed my trunks down he collected my jeans on the way and before I knew it I was kicking my runners off. Suddenly I matched his completely nude state. I was as hard as a rock.

Laying front down on his bed, he arched his back and brought his lips to the end of my meat. He latched on but made no effort to suck in any more of my rod. He reached up and lightly took the base of my ball sack in a gentle grasp. It sent a shiver of stimulation through my body, I felt my knees weaken just that little bit.

He re positioned himself to gain a better angle, all the time retaining his grip on my boys. He opened his mouth wider and took in half my length. It was already excellent.

He started a gentle rock up and down my shaft, all the while he kept vacuum lips pressed to the skin of my rod. As more and more of his saliva coated my cock the sensation of his movement increased the intensity. I placed my hands on his head as it bobbed up and down.

He again adjusted and sought to swallow all of me. More than once he gagged as his ambitions exceeded his throat’s ability to cope. I didn’t care, I was increasingly focused on working his mouth to unload my balls. I could feel a tickle beginning.

Once I was aware I was on the homeward stretch, I increasingly took control of the situation. I didn’t ram his throat but I did put it through a workout, along the way I generated a gag or two. When I felt my balls lift I knew I was beyond stopping. I shifted my hands to his ears and held on tightly. He knew what was coming and it was clear he wanted it.

At the last moment I withdrew to about halfway and unloaded through five or six major pulses. My juice dribbled out the corners of his mouth as he failed to keep up with my flow. It was incredibly horny.

Catching my breath, I was absolutely spent, I didn’t think I needed the sex so badly. It occurred to me I was dealing with an emotional, as well as a physical release. I needed to sit down, immediately.

I moved around the end of his bed and lay along its length. I just needed a second or two to stabilise my condition. Maybe I was as drunk as normal? I took a number of clearing breaths and promptly fell into a deep sleep.