That Businessman

It was the early 1970s and I was eighteen-and-change the first time I took a hard dick in my mouth.  

I wasn't innocent or naive by any means.  I had a small collection of magazines and hardcore photos and 8mm films hidden away that I jacked off to sometimes.  I'd had my cock sucked, even if I hadn't got completely and well laid yet.  I had a buddy I wrestled around with now and then; sometimes in jockstraps, sometimes without them.  That was for the most part just Greco-Roman struggling, with the occasional limp flesh toy or full hard-on pressing against belly or buttocks or teasingly close to lips or cheeks.   Only once did it start to go further, when he pinned me, legs on arms, and refused to let me up until I kissed his hard cock.  He told me next time he'd demand a blowjob, but by the next time he'd forgotten that or backed away from it.  Eventually...but that's another story.  

And with my longish hair and tight, low jeans, I'd become the recipient of a few passes from older men.  Sometimes it was a look and, having caught my eye, a nod to follow.  Sometimes it was a furtive brush of a hand across my thigh or ass as a guy passed me, followed by a greeting of some kind if it was a quiet, deserted street.    And still other times it might be a man sitting beside me on the bus, moving his leg gently against mine or, if I was standing, a male hand squeezing my ass or a guy pressing his crotch and hard cock against my ass.  Before 'that day' I hadn't had the courage to respond to these few passes.  I'd tell myself they were accidental, or just be unable to find a good response.  It didn’t help much that I was a total bottom and introverted.  Really, that first blow job unlocked a few doors for me.

So, the day I got introduced to actually sucking cock, I was bored and slightly horny and cutting classes.  It was a late winter early morning, and I'd gone to a local department store that had a coffee counter and hung out with coffee and the waitress until the store proper opened at 8:00.  When it did, I went in and wandered departments for a while, then went to the men's clothing area.  I'd been in the same store the Saturday morning prior, looking for cheap, tight jeans.  I was bent forward slightly, checking sizes, when I felt a hand brush across my ass.  I jerked around, surprised, and the older guy who'd done it apologized softly, smiled slightly and moved on.  I'd wanted to follow him but didn't.  I told myself [as usual] it was just an accident.  I was hoping the experience might be repeated--with him or another older guy--this morning.

It wasn't the day for it though and it was a little before nine a.m. when I went to the men's room, planning to head on out and walk around for a while and maybe hit a movie when the theatres opened.  It was a small, clean room, with just a stall, a sink and a urinal.  My cock was semi-hard when I took it out to piss (still thinking about that last Saturday morning and what--or who--might have gone down if only) and I was trying to think of bland thoughts to get it down, when a guy came out of the stall and went to wash his hands.  He was a big, gorgeous, muscular, hunk with a huge cock. (I'm joking!).  He was a businessman in a gray suit, maybe a few inches taller and a good forty pounds heavier than my 5'9 160 pounds, a bit stocky with a round face.  A standard looking, balding guy with a slightly overweight build.  He looked over at me, still washing his hands, and muttered "Nice tool."  I nodded, said 'thanks, man', I wasn't sure what else to say to that, really.  And my 'nice tool' (which is an average sized cock, maybe a little under, but efficient and, I guess, nice) started getting harder in my hand at the possibility of being serviced.

He came closer and got hold of it, fondled it to full erection while I continued facing the urinal, wondering if he was just going to jerk me off or if I was going to get a blowjob.

How about neither one?

He unzipped his pants and pulled out his own hard cock, continued stroking and fondling mine lazily, reaching down to fondle my balls a little.  When I didn't grab his cock, he stopped working mine, took my right hand and put it on his dick and told me to "Come on."  I turned to face him, scared as hell, not of working his dick, but of someone walking in on us, but still turned to face him and started stroking his cock slowly.  I'd guess he was around seven inches or so, cut, and not real thick.

So, I'm stroking his cock a little clumsily--I'd never jerked another guy off before, only myself--and getting hornier doing it, my own hard-on bobbing up occasionally and being ignored by the guy now.   He put his hand on my shoulder then and leaned closer, "Suck it."

I told him no.  I told hm I'd never sucked cock, and kept stroking him, working him a little harder to get him off.  I started to say, "Maybe we could go somewhere else" and got as far as "Maybe" when he grabbed my hand, bent forward close enough for me to smell his cologne and mouthwash, and whispered, "Do you want me to tell security that you’re trying to hustle me?"  Something to that effect.  I took it as 'suck my cock or I tell them you offered to do it for a price'.  [Which was a misunderstanding.  He told me, the next time I ran into him, that he really did think I was trying to hustle him and he was pissed about it.}

Meantime, while I didn't think he would get security, I didn't want to chance it.  Security might not call the cops, but I might be (un)lucky enough to be turned over to a security guard who'd like to teach the little punk a lesson without the real cops' interference.

So, I told him I wasn’t hustling, slipped my dick into my pants, got on my knees, and leaned forward and started licking his cock head.  He slipped his hand around the back of my head and I looked up at him.  I wanted to ask him if we could at least go into the stall, but he just pushed my head down and forward, so I went back to it.

I opened my mouth and took the tip of his dick into it, and my cock throbbed again.  My heart was pounding.  I was nervous, afraid that someone might discover us [a high probability], and absolutely and incredibly turned on at the thought that someone might come in and discover us and join us [fat chance].  Turned on, too, at the feel of a hard cock in my mouth for the very first time and at being coerced into sucking it.  I'd experienced this sort of thrill occasionally and in a small way wrestling with my buddy and being pinned by him, but this was hotter, more arousing.  I could have cum in seconds if I'd started jerking off.  I eased forward, took more of his dick, moved back, and forward again.  Between the 8mm loops and being on the receiving end once, I kind of had an idea what I was doing.  I moved forward and back a couple more times, then he gripped my hair, pulled his cock away from me and held me away from it.

And I started getting seriously scared, because I thought he was going to push to fuck me.

Instead he told me to get up and said that his car was in the lot.  That was a relief.  I figured okay, he was going to take me to his place or, more likely, a motel to finish up and the nerves decreased some of their jangling.  No worries about someone discovering us, and if he pushed to fuck me...well...I figured I'd just beg if I had to.  Or run.  Of course, I could have just walked away, refused to go with him.  But a) I thought he might, indeed, call security or even just make an embarrassing scene and more importantly b) I didn't want to; I wanted that cock fucking my mouth again.

He left it hanging out and buttoned his trench coat closed and then we left the men's room and went out to the parking lot.  I was self-conscious, a little embarrassed and very turned-on by the thought that maybe the couple of people at the coffee counter and the waitress knew what was going on.  And what had been going on.

The car was parked a little way from the entry and no one had parked near it.  It was early morning on a weekday, so there were barely a handful of other cars anyway.  I think it was a station wagon.  Either way, he had a bench seat and when we were in, he moved over closer to mid-seat, opened his pants completely and pushed his briefs down under his balls.  He slapped my leg, "Okay, come on."  A business man of few words.

I turned sideways on the seat and bent forward and started licking his cock again.  I took the head into my mouth a little and sucked at it, licked at it.  Let it out and started licking the shaft, pressed my lips around it and moved my head up and down and up again.  I licked his balls, licked the length of his shaft slowly, then took the head into my mouth and sucked at it for a moment. He whispered something, which was something like "come on" or "let's go" or something to that effect, and I eased down and took probably three quarters of it into my mouth and started sucking him in earnest.  He put his hand on my head, keeping me honest, not that I intended to let his cock go.  The feel of his hard-on in my mouth, pressing down on my tongue, was better than I had ever imagined and now I wanted to make him cum.  I wanted him to hold me down and keep me down until he shot a load of cum into my mouth and down my throat.  I was incredibly turned on by having to suck this guy's cock.

And, too, I was fantasizing that someone would walk by and see me moving my head up and down on his shaft; see him pushing my head gently down and letting it rise; see me sucking him off in the front seat of his car in a public parking lot.

He put his free hand on my shoulder and leaned toward me, said "Faster," and ran his hand down my back and to the waistband of my jeans.  He teased his fingers under the band, then out and did his best to slap my ass lightly a couple of times.  

He started breathing louder, faster and moved his hips up, trying to get more of his cock into my mouth.  I took some of it, couldn't take as much as I wanted to, sucked on it harder, I reached down and started fondling his balls clumsily.  He managed to push his pants down a bit without stopping me and I tasted the first droplets of his warm, thick jizz.  

He held my head and started pumping his hips and moaned softly.  I got hold of his shaft to keep him from gagging me, sucked harder, worked my tongue around the shaft and I nearly moaned out loud as the first real jolt of cum erupted and he clutched my shoulder and said "Fuck yes" or something like that.

He pulled me up a little by the shoulder, grabbing his cock as he withdrew it from my mouth, then pressed it against my cheek and another stream--thicker and longer--of cum shot across my cheek.  I was sure it had gone into my hair and part of me was pissed, and part of me was turned on.  He pressed it against my lips then and I opened my mouth again for the next burst.  He got part of that into my mouth, eased his hips down and the rest of it spurted across my lips and chin.

He held me down, smearing his cock across my lips and cheek while he went limp, then patted my head and told me to straighten up.  I sat up but kept my head down.  I was sure anyone walking by would see the cum dripping down my cheek or smeared across my face.  "Show me your dick."  He slapped my thigh as he said it, reached back and came up with a box of tissues.

I opened my jeans and pushed them and my briefs down past my hips and my cock sprang up again, still hard as hell.  It would take about ten seconds of attention to get me off at this point.  He told me to pull the jeans down further, and I got them halfway down my thighs.  I thought he was going to go down on me.

But he just leaned closer and squeezed my bare thigh and told me "You fucking loved it.  I knew you wanted it."  He smiled, squeezed again and gave me the tissues, flipped down the sun visor to expose a small mirror and told me to clean up.  I was relieved to not find any cum in my hair, but still nervous most of the rest of the day, sure I'd missed something.

I was still hard when I finished cleaning up.  I started to pull up my jeans and he slapped my thigh and told me to leave them and clean him up.  And not just with the tissues.  He had me lick and suck his cock as clean as I could, then use the tissues to dry it.  And if he'd told me to suck it hard again, and take another load across my face, I would have done it in a second.  In fact, I wanted him to.  I would have welcomed him straddling me and just jerking off on my face and smearing it through my hair.

Instead he pulled his pants back together and told me to do the same and asked me if I wanted a lift somewhere.  I gave him a cross street about a mile away.  I didn't have any plans, but I figured he might be looking for an excuse to go somewhere for round two.  Instead he took me to that intersection and pulled over, squeezed and stroked my thigh and told me he'd see me again.

I wasn’t so sure about that, but he was right.   I did run into him again and still again [a few times].  And that first-time blow job also led me to respond more, and with more satisfying results, to those occasional looks or fleeting touches I started to seek out.  

It also defined the type of men--forty-plus, aggressive and average--that I'd be most turned on by to this day and my enjoyment of being a total bottom.