Date: Wed, 11 May 2016 00:02:53 -0400
From: Joe Justice <lexdude34@gmail.com>
Subject: "I Like Head"/Chapter 1

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Disclaimer: What follows is a work of fiction, the first chapter in a
series to appear here on Nifty. the following is an original story of
fiction that contains explicit scenes of consensual sex between men. All
characters depicted are above 18 years of age. If you are under the age of
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As a longtime Nifty reader and sometime commentator on the work of other
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I Like Head/Chapter I

Call me Ishmael. Ok, don't. You can call me JJ, which is what everyone else
calls me, and short for Gianni.

Right now, I'm doing my favorite thing in the world, which is getting
head. Let me be more clear: by favorite thing, I mean laying on my own bed,
in my own apartment, stoned, buds in my ear, listening to music, and
getting a world-class blowjob. My arms are folded behind my head. My eyes
are closed. This little Korean fag has been tooling on my cock for at least
a half hour, and neither of us is going anywhere soon. Albert's his name,
the Korean boy. At this exact moment, he's got all eight-and-a-half of my
inches inside his mouth and throat, and softly fucking his face against my
pubes.

Albert is Albert Ahn, American, a chemistry major here. Kind of a nerd,
doesn't do 420, 5'5", weighs maybe 135, hairless (we'll get to that), and
one of the truly great cocksuckers of the world. (I've collected a few.) No
kidding. He lives for my cock. Well, that's what he says. Mad skills on
Albert. Loves to throat me to the base and just stay there. I think his
record is a minute-and-a-half. He's gonna take at least two loads this
afternoon, without a break. When he gets tired, I'll text Steven to come
over, for nut number three and four. Oh fuck, Albert just got both of my
nuts in his mouth at the same time.

Everybody says my nuts are huge. (Well, they are huge.) And Albert's a
little guy, so this is a first for him.

Duly noted.

I took the apartment on Cornell for the side alley. 128 Cornell. See, no
street light. And a separate stairway on the alley to my place on the
second floor. Away from all the frat and sorority houses. Which means my
fags can come and go, and "nobody has to know nuthin'," as my uncle Gino
likes to say. Gotta have my cocksuckers, and too many eyes when I live at
Kappa last year. It comes down this way: gay guys give better head, and
fags give the best head. I ain't gay (we'll get to that, too), but who
turns away good head? Oh man, Albert's doing this thing he does with his
lips and tongue, right under the head of my dick. He musta nursed on cock
as a baby. 128 Cornell, Number 2B, just off campus: my piece of
paradise. And speaking of pieces...Albert has me so fuckin' close...

Where'd I find Albert? At the gym, of course, just like I found Steven and
all the others. (Not 'Steve.' You notice how fags are so prissy about their
names? It's a wonder he didn't spell it "ph.") I have this trick, which I
learned by accident back in Philly. It never fails. I stand near the
entrance to the locker room, like I'm waiting for someone, with just a
towel on my shoulders, nothing else. Total fag magnet. You can't miss me. I
wrestle varsity at 197, and my Italian side comes out in black hair all
over. And I'm what you call a show-er, cause my dick hangs a fat six inches
even soft. I lift all the time, so yeah, I'm pretty stacked. It's fag
kryptonite. Sometimes, fags trip and fall because they stare and lose their
balance. Once I got a live one, I go up to their locker, put a leg up on
the bench, touch my meat just enough to paralyze my prey, and get a phone
number. Then I reel 'em in. Right now, Albert's doin' this thing with his
tongue when he's got me to the root... This is when I sometimes lock my
legs around his head to hold him in place while I unload...Oh,
fuuuuuck...fuuuuuuuuck...

"How long you been into fags, JJ?" Okay, maybe you're not asking that. But
I'll tell you anyway. Since I was 14 (I'm a junior at State now, 20 years
old). That is a lot of primo head. I was working in Uncle Gino's liquor
store in Rehobeth, and this college-looking dude comes for wine, and starts
lookin' at me, like a lot. Ok, I was just back from wrestling camp, and
tanned, and wearing a wife-beater T and shorts. I was one of those
teenagers who matured fast, shaving at 12 and all the rest. (Uncle Gino
flat out told me, "Your job is to bring in the gays.") So this first time,
I was a little wierded out, but got a tingle down there too, kinda hooked
on the way this dude was hovering around me. He left me his card, and kept
coming back to the store on the days I worked, and I went for a ride in his
truck after I got off, and he blew me, and I never felt anything like it
and the rest is history. Albert's in the bathroom now, taking a piss...that
was a huge load he swallowed, maybe eight spurts....

Steven, my number two cocksucker today, lives in the apartment below. I put
him there, to take of me and take care of my apartment. When you work in
the liquor business, you get to understand certain things, like about
moving substances around, and customers, and cash. So I handle a fair
amount weed on campus. Enough to keep the cash flowing in. When they made
it legal here, it didn't change things much for me. Which means I can
afford the rent on two places, and put a fag like Steven downstairs.

Steven cleans my place, with that hot gymnast ass in my face. Light brown
hair on his head, and hairless from the neck down. Really. I told him to
get rid of the body hair, pubes too, and he went to some Brazilian wax
joint and they removed it, like, permanently. All of it. Yeah, I fuck fags
too but I like I said, head's my favorite...

Steven uses his key to come in. For a sub - yeah, I know what a "sub" is! -
he's got just the right touch of guts. If I send him out to get me some
food, and somebody's blowing me when he gets back, he knows not to bother
me. Just puts the food and change on the counter, and lets himself back
out.  This time, I had to check on something, so I hollered and he came to
the bedroom door. Albert was still in the shower. The sheets were a
mess. Stephen checked me out, riveting right aways as always to my half-
hard, spent cock first, then travelling up to my face. Fags. So
predictable!  "When he splits, you gotta clean this up," I told him,
sprawled out, pulling on my cock. He nodded.

"Don't worry, there's plenty left for you," as I shot a look at my swollen
dick and then his eyes.

"Did you make sure they didn't make it too spicy?" He nodded again. Stephen
is about 5,6" 130 pounds.

(When you wrestle, you pay attention to weight. Like, a lot of attention.)
Lean up top, 26" waist, creamy smooth skin, and a big bubble ass that I've
had him working on since we hooked up last year.

"Should I come back in a few minutes?"

"Nah, you can straighten up the living room. Gonna have some pals over
later."

"...you mean customers."

That was a bit smart-assed. "You mean customers, SIR. Little bitch."

"Yes, I mean customers, Sir," and he turned and left. Stephen is a slave
for my cock, and the rest of me.

And I've trained him well - some withholding of the meat here, some firm
spanking there, the fact that I'm his landlord, and his source of
employment to round it all out. I just had to take the raw material - a fag
desperate to serve and please any real man - and mold him to serve and
please me.

I sound like a regular pasha, don't I? Well, like I said, I don't have much
to worry about. I got loads of cash. I got a job waiting for me when I get
outta here. Gino or some other relative is gonna find me a girl to marry
when I get back to Philly. And in the meantime, I got Stephen and all the
pussyboys I need.

(to be continued)