gay story – I Am A Cocksucker

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I’m a cocksucker. I don’t mind being called that. Or faggot, or whatever. I know what I am and what I have wanted since I was a boy. I like being used by a man. Or men. I like the idea of kneeling down in front of a man and having my mouth used as a makeshift cunt for his pleasure. “Used” is the operative word. I want a man to take advantage of me and degrade me and abuse me, simply for his amusement. When I was a boy, someone explained to me what a blowjob was. While I was quite enthralled at that age by the sight of a man’s cock, the idea of putting it in my mouth seemed disgusting and alien. But as I jerked off night after night, thinking about men’s cocks, the idea of putting a guys dick in my mouth, disgusting as it seemed, made me orgasm more intensely than before. And then the idea of actually having a guy ejaculate in my mouth (disgusting!) made me really shoot. And before long, I was fantasizing about swallowing men’s semen, not because I felt it was desirable, but because it was nasty and dirty. The idea of being down on my knees while some man ejaculated in my mouth disgusted me and turned me on at the same time. I wanted that degradation. To be someone’s bitch. And as I got older, I found out there were places I could go and do just that. Out-of-the-way restrooms, public parks, woods, parking areas, adult bookstores, porno theaters – all places that men found or created with one idea in mind – that guys like me could be used by other men for quick and satisfying …

sex. I discovered that as much as I liked the idea of being used, many men, particularly married men, liked the idea of using another human being, selfishly and completely, and pleasuring themselves with no thought to the other person. And to enjoy the power and thrill of making someone swallow their ejaculate at the climax. So it was that I found myself yet again driving over to a public park that I had found, with the explicit idea of kneeling down in front of some stranger and allowing myself to be used as mouth-fuck. Perhaps I would get lucky and there would be multiple men there. I like the degradation of having strangers use me like that. More than one. Spending hours at a spot in the woods, or at a porno store, or a public restroom, seeing how many mens’ loads I can take. And I can do it, too. I can slowly jack off for hours, waiting for yet another man to show up to use me. Sometimes I wait for an hour or more for the next man to show up. How many can I take? Three? Four? Five? I’ve done as many as seven. I’m ashamed of it and proud of it at the same time. And it feels good to say it, to have you read it, to have you think, “what a fucking faggot!” And when I finally can take no more, I jerk off, shooting my load on the restroom floor or onto a tree in the woods. Then I get up, my knees hurting and covered with dirt, my mouth tasting like cum, semen on my breath, and then I feel bad about myself, recriminating myself for being such a faggot, for letting men use me like 

  1. that. I wallow in the self-abuse and low self-esteem. It feels so good to feel so bad. And sometimes it feels so go that I turn around and go back to the restroom or woods and let another man use me, just so I can feel even badder. Just so I can be so degraded and depraved. As I drive toward the park, I talk to myself in the car. I’m not losing my mind, no. But it feels good to hear out loud, some of the things I am thinking. To hear, stated plainly and calmly, what I plan on doing. “I wonder if I’ll meet a man out in the woods?” I say, hearing my own voice echo in the car. “I hope he uses my mouth as a cunt. I like it when strangers fuck me in the mouth.” It feels good to say this and to hear it. I turn into the park and go around the corner near the woods path, the place men go to have anonymous sex. I see a couple of parked cars. I have no doubt in my mind now that I will end up with the loads of mens’ semen in my mouth before long. I park the car and get out. Glancing over at the men in the parked cars, I head towards the woods trail. Some men might be having lunch or reading the paper. But most men come to this part of the park for one reason. If they are here for that reason, they saw my glance and understand what I want. I am about 10 yards into the woods when I hear a car door open and slam, and then hear footsteps crunching on the gravel. I glance back. A middle-aged blue collar worker has stepped out of a dented pickup truck. He might be a carpenter or construction …
    worker. His truck has seen hard work, splattered with dirt, paint, and dust. He is wearing blue jeans and a white t-shirt, his beer belly pushing outward. He looks like any other regular guy you might meet on the street. I capture all this in one glance. 50 yards in, the trail branches off, and I take the path less traveled, the path leading to a place where I have knelt down before men, where wads of tissue paper and condom wrappers announce that this is a place where men have sex. I glance back long enough to see that he is following and make brief eye contact. My heart is pounding. I may have done this a hundred times before. But for some reason, it still is very exciting when a man pursues you into the woods to fuck you in the mouth . I reach a bend in the trail where wads of tissue paper announce that sex has been had here before. The ground is pounded flat by many feet before me, as well as knees. I stop and wait, idly fondling my crotch. The construction worker is approaching, pretending nonchalance. This is where the dance gets tricky. Police sometimes patrol woods like this, and try to entrap and arrest people like me. Or worse yet, people like my new friend – married men who just want a quick blowjob. They have more to lose by a public arrest than I do. And yet they keep going back to the woods. My mouth, or the mouths of thousands of other faggots like me is too much of a draw, despite the risks. He approaches me and stands a few feet away, pretending to study the 
  2. trees. His hand is down near his crotch and he occasionally touches himself. “How’s it going?” he says. I fondle my crotch some more and he does likewise. After a few minutes of this dance, it is clear we both are horny. “What are you into?” I say, probably the lamest line around. I look down at his hand on his crotch and see a gold wedding band on his ring finger. “I just like to get sucked,” he replies. I reach over and fondle his crotch. “I like it when a guy fucks me in the mouth and makes me swallow his cum.” I reply. He lets out with a slight grin as I fondle his crotch. He puts his hand on my shoulder and f***efully pushes down and hisses “Get down on your knees!” I love this man. What a wonderful thing to say to a faggot. “Get down on your knees!” as a command like that. I comply quickly, kneeling down in front of him, unzipping my fly to play with my cock. He unzips his fly and pulls out his cock, which is hairy as all get out. Married straight guys don’t trim their pubic hair. I like married straight guys. “Can I see your balls?” I ask, and with a sigh, he pulls his scrotum out through the fly-hole in his underwear and through the fly in his pants. His balls are large and soft and hairy. He puts one hand on my head and says, “Now suck, and this had better be good!” “This had better be good!” he had said and that phrase echos through my mind as I take his cock in my mouth. I will try my best to comply, and I run my tongue under his cock, trying to make my mouth …
    into a perfect cut for him to fuck. He lets me suck on his cock for a few moments before he starts up a rhythm. With both hands on my head, he starts face-fucking me slowly, using my mouth as a cunt hole strictly for his pleasure. I time my breathing so that when his cock goes all the way in, I don’t gag. I’m thinking of his directive, “This had better be good!” And apparently, I am doing well, because he steps up the pace. I love that about men, real men. They have to ram their cock in, pushing it deeper, further, faster, harder. A desperate thrusting, over and over again, climaxing in doing something really nasty in my mouth. He is skull-fucking me now, his calloused hands hard on my head, like he is trying to crack a coconut. He rams his cock in without a care or thought as to whether he is choking me or gagging me. I am only getting in short breaths now, as he pulls out each time. With every other stroke I breath in, and then out, but not by much. I am starting to get dizzy from asphyxia. My knees are hurting. My left foot has fallen asl**p. But I keep thinking of what he said, “This had better be good!” and I hang on and surrender my mouth to his urges, I become completely passive and submissive to him. This stranger I met in the woods now owns me, or does for these very few minutes until he is done with me and tosses me aside as so many other men have done in the past. I can tell he is getting close as his strokes take on a greater urgency and then slow down for four long slow thrusts accompanies by low grunts. I can feel the base of his cock throb as he ejaculates in my mouth – the ultimate form of being used by a man. I take his cum, passively, while he finishes inside of me. Like most men, he becomes very sensitive on his cock immediately afterwards, and also embarrassed and scared of getting caught. He pulls his cock out, and I try to get the last bits of semen from the end of it – not because I am some eager cum-eating faggot, but because I know my place and that is to make it better for him, so he does not have more to clean up. He pulls out a wad of tissue and wipes off his cock, some bits of tissue sticking to it. He tries to peel them off and quickly gives up, zipping up his fly, returning his manhood to its holster. He mutters “thanks” and turns and walks away quickly. I slowly get up, my knees aching and I slap my left leg that is asl**p. It seems to surreal, almost like it never happened. One minute I am walking in the woods and the next some man is fucking me in the most degrading way. A stranger. I had sex with a stranger in the woods. There are circles of brown dirt on my knees. I wear them with pride. I look at my watch. I should be getting back. But I see another figure walking down the main path. Another man, heading into the woods. He turns and heads down the path toward me. My cock twitches. I want to be degraded again. I want this man to have a turn at me as well. When I leave this woods, I want to know that I degraded myself as fully as possible – that not only did I let a stranger ejaculate in my mouth, but that let two. Or three. Or several.
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