Three Men and a Boi-Mouth - Sex Stories

Three Men and a Boi-Mouth

... head and Carl oozed approval with a salacious groan and vocal encouragement, “Ohhhh yeah. Suck on it boy. Good cocksucker!” His head was tilted back and I was overcome with the realization that I was sucking cock and I was therefore a cocksucker and none of it could ever be reversed. That understanding brought me to the determination that, as long as I was doing it, I might as well be the best cocksucker I could be and get as much out of it as I could, then if I had to, I could deny ever being a cocksucker. Yeah, I could live with that. Then, he swiftly put the heel of his hand on my forehead and pushed me back until his rigid cock popped from my mouth and he cooed, “Not yet. Not yet. Too soon.” He sat on the sofa and tugged on my hair to bring me between his legs. He guided my mouth to the cock he was holding in position and my mouth seemed to automatically open and take it in and once again, I was sucking on Carl’s cock. I began bobbing slowly. Carl’s head was leaned back against the backrest of the sofa and his eyes were closed and he soothed me with words of how good it felt and what a good cocksucker I was and I continued to suck on that hard thing, completely seduced by how rock hard it was and how it felt soooo good in my mouth.. Carl's hips began to move. His damned hands returned to my head and he began pumping my head up and down, like he was using my mouth for masturbation. He held my head still and fucked my mouth and then—then—then he did it. I felt the first ...

... gob soar to the back of my mouth striking it hard and splattering wide. I felt choked and had to force myself to not gag on the awful stuff. But, I didn’t want to get that far and then fail. I had to take it. It was so wicked and nasty and filthy; a man actually ejaculating in my mouth. His dick; my mouth. His jizz just blowing into my mouth and filling it. If any escaped, I thought it would be a sign of failure. I held still. I kept mouth snug on his spurting shaft. I . . . I just let him . . . I just let him unload right in my mouth. I forced myself to take it; all of it. When he was done, he released my head and I yanked upward and ran to the bathroom and spit and spit and spit and dipped my mouth to the faucet and douched my mouth like a French whore’s pussy but even after all of that, when I returned to the room, the film of his semen clung like a coating in my mouth. And the man who had done that in my mouth was gone. He just fucked me, then left? Had he just used me? Was I no more than a common whore? Had I not been good enough? Didn’t he like my mouth? Would he never even ask for it again? My aunt returned Sunday night and I sequestered myself in my bedroom so that she wouldn’t some how see the word “cocksucker” written all over my face, that is, if she ever cared enough to actually notice me. I couldn’t face her or anyone. Not for awhile. On Tuesday, Carl called my aunt and set up a date and showed up with a pint and they copulated in the back bedroom with plenty of ...