The Suck Master

Ian was early—as usual—so he decided to have a cigarette first, but it somewhat backfired because, with nicotine now coursing through his veins, that beast he’d been nursing inside him for the past five days was more restless than ever, and for its release there was but one vessel—the one that was in turn beginning to rear its head against the fly of Ian’s jeans.

With a flick of the wrist he jettisoned the half-smoked cigarette onto the pavement, under the scornful eye of the hotel’s doorman, and texted to say he was here. The reply from “SuckMaster82” came within a minute or so, but it already felt like an eternity to Ian. As he headed in, he smiled at the same scornful doorman who now let him in.

Ian was alone in the elevator when he rode up, which was when he realized he was sporting a raging hard-on, which meant he was in big trouble, and the prospect quite frankly excited him to no end.

After walking down two corridors and rounding two corners, Ian finally found Room 1721, whose door was unlocked and cracked open. Having made sure there was no one around, he pushed the door and slipped it.

The room was dimly lit and Ian couldn’t see much in the doorway, but “SuckMaster82” must’ve heard him come in. He always wanted Ian to take a shower first, as if to build up the anticipation. Ian presumed correctly that the bathroom was the closed door to the right of the entrance. Some toiletries were laid out neatly—nothing idiosyncratic, just generic big-brand toothpaste, face wash and whatnot. Hastily, he stripped down naked and came face to face with his upturned erection, defiant because it had been deprived, although he successfully resisted the urge to touch it—that was someone else’s job tonight.

Ian splashed some water on himself haphazardly, toweled off, and stepped back out, letting his hard cock guide him, towards the bed where “SuckMaster82” was already sprawled out on his stomach. He was a big one, at least six-foot-one or -two, and completely nude except for the hood over his head that exposed only his mouth—Ian’s destination for the evening, and where he now rubbed the tip of his vermilion cock head gently against the pair of anonymous lips.

“Did you miss this dick, hm?”

A tongue darted out and tickled Ian’s frenulum, making Ian’s knees go weak.

“I know you missed this mouth, though.”

There, the man proceeded to lick the underside of Ian’s tool from base to tip, then back again, before enveloping his unforgivably plump nut sac in the warmth of his mouth.

“Oh my god…” Ian’s eyes rolled back as he groaned.

“Fuck, your balls are so full,” SuckMaster82 remarked, “When was the last time you came?”

“Like, five days ago?” Ian confessed.

Even though he had never seen Ian’s cock, the man had been around it enough times to know that, even at full mast, Ian’s foreskin clung on obstinately. As such, he reached out, and peeled back the sheath of brown skin to reveal the glossy rim of Ian’s dome.

“Get that mouth around that dick, come on…”

However, his urging seemed to have fallen on very deaf ears, as the man proceeded to stroke Ian instead.

“What if I just jerk you off instead, hm?”

Ian’s cock ran just about the length of the man’s meaty fist, and he was making quick work of Ian, so that he felt the sweet pressure to blow his load rapidly sneak up on him, due in no small part to the fact that he had held out for so long.

Prying the man’s hand off his cock, Ian reprimanded him, but sounded more like a child: “No, don’t use your hand!” Prodding the man’s lips with his impatient boner and trying to coax him to open up, Ian renewed his plea: “Suck my dick…”

“I wanna taste your precum first.” The man was in no apparent hurry, which was getting on Ian’s nerves. He continued: “Make yourself precum and feed it to me.”

“If I do that will you suck me?” Ian hated that he even had to ask—to negotiate, but grudgingly and carefully began to jerk himself off, rubbing his foreskin back and forth over the sensitive ridge of his mushroom head, until a droplet of precum finally seeped out.

“Maybe…” The man replied.

“Here you go, taste my precum…”

SuckMaster82’s tongue flicked out once more. Upon tasting the evidence of Ian’s arousal, he made a sort of satisfied groan and, without a warning, throated Ian to the hilt, and did it again, and again, making obscene slurping and gurgling noises at that.

“Ugh… god… fuck…” Ian grunted incoherently and, teetering dangerously on the edge, pulled away just in time.

“Oh you gotta slow down,” Ian warned, panting.

“You close already?” The man asked, and Ian imagined him frowning beneath his hood.

“Let me fuck your mouth a little bit.”

Holding SuckMaster82’s head in place, Ian slid himself half-in and half-out of his sloppy mouth hole with tentative small thrusts. It was a pretty picture: Ian, mostly hairless and lithe as a cat, feeding mouthfuls of brown, uncut dick to his beefy sucker; he was in better shape than Ian remembered, and his sculpted buttocks, which were a shade lighter than the rest of him, flexed as he gobbled up Ian’s dick, and it was in that creamy white ass that Ian now pictured himself balls-deep…

“I’m sorry but you’re gonna taste my load now,” Ian pronounced, and then: “Uunngghhh…”

In one, two, three and four almost sheepish twitches, Ian’s five-day backlog of jizz was deposited into SuckMaster82’s wet, warm mouth. Exactly how much he came that night, though, Ian had no way of knowing, because SuckMaster82 gamely swallowed every drop of Ian’s overdue but premature load, with all but a lazy grunt that indicated he might be mildly impressed.

When it was all over, Ian chuckled, “Fuck, I really needed that.”

“I bet,” The man smacked his lips.

Ian knew that was his cue to leave. The man never came in front of Ian. He’d like to imagine him beating his meat with the taste of Ian’s load in his mouth, or maybe some other boy was coming over to feed him another load right after Ian left—he didn’t know, and didn’t care.