From: an259064@anon.penet.fi
Reply-To: an259064@anon.penet.fi
Date: Wed, 14 Aug 1996 22:54:07 UTC
Subject: "College Cocksucker" (True)


                             College Cocksucker

The mail today brought an invitation to my twentieth college
reunion. The alumni office has faithfully kept up with me over the
years, never forgetting to send me an alumni magazine and never
missing a chance to request donations. Moved by sudden memories of
the lush campus, with its Mediterranean architecture, long arcades,
magnolia trees, azalea bushes, and hordes of young people, I
sometimes send them money. But this is the first year I have
seriously thought about attending a reunion. 

The invitation triggers a rich flood of images--not of close friends
or favorite profs or particular classes or social or academic or
athletic triumphs or defeats, the kind of memories my fellow alumni
are probably entertaining right now--but of sex, and of the peculiar
person I was many years ago. "College cocksucker" is the term that
comes to mind to describe me then, a term that pays tribute to my
single-minded passion for cocksucking in those years.

From my current perspective, I know that the person I was could be
seen as a pathetic creature, lonely and overworked and socially
deprived, and probably even seriously disturbed in his masochistic
devotion to the sexual needs of others. Yet I certainly did not
think of myself that way then, nor is that the stuff of my memories.
In those rather bleak years, cocksucking brought me bright moments
of joy. Maybe it's because I had few social skills and was terribly
introverted, but cocksucking was by far my most significant means of
communion with straight men. Or maybe I was just horny. Anyway,
that's what I remember most-- those moments of joy and the obsession
that sustained me throughout the entire four years of college. I
probably would never have graduated without them. 

Twenty-four years ago, when I first stepped foot on the large state
university campus, I was a fresh-faced country kid, six foot tall, a
little skinny, good-looking with a tight, supple, naturally muscular
body, dark hair, pale complexion, big innocent-looking eyes, and
raging hormones. Pictures of me from those years show a bright,
intelligent face, with regular features and just a hint of
complexity in the eyes. No one could have guessed my secret passion
from these photographs, yet if you look closely you can see a
certain hunger in the eyes. Brought up in a small farming community
in a family of desperately poor sharecroppers, I was naive and
unsophisticated in many ways, and I felt a great deal of pressure as
the first member of my family to have the opportunity to attend
college. But I had already had far more sexual experience than most
18-year-olds. I was already secretly addicted to dick.

When I was 14, a neighbor who hired me to help around his horse farm
initiated me into sexual service. He was about 30, ruggedly
handsome, married, with a child. I idolized him and his wife, and
would hang around them all the time. I flirted with Robert pretty
outrageously, desperate to have him notice me, and one day while we
were in the haybarn, he flat out raped me. He came up from behind me
and slipped a rope around my hands, slid down my trousers, rotated a
fat thumb in my ass, spit on his large cock, and then rammed it up
my unlubricated hole. It hurt like hell and I ran home crying. 

But the very next day, I went back. Robert said he was surprised to
see me so soon, but he expected I'd be back asking for more dick. He
said I'd been begging for it all summer; he could tell I needed a
cock up my asshole. He said he had an unfailing eye for queers, and
there was something in my mannerisms that tipped him off. He told me
that I was a little faggot, but that was all right with him; he
liked faggots as long as they were good ones and treated his dick
right and knew their place in the scheme of things.
 
He said a faggot was someone who needed to suck and be fucked, so I 
had better be planning to spend a lot of time on my knees and on my 
back with my legs in the air.  He taught me how to suck cock that 
afternoon. At first I was pretty lousy, but within a month or so I
had been well trained to give a first-class blowjob and, within a
year or so, I came to really enjoy getting fucked as well. Robert
taught me to be grateful to him and any other man who would let me
suck his dick. He impressed upon me that my destiny was serving the
needs of others and thereby fulfilling myself.

I serviced Robert all through high school, until I left for college.
I occasionally serviced a couple of his friends when we went to
horseshows and he would introduce me as his personal cocksucker. He
was friendly with me and I idolized him, but he was always very
explicit that I was the queer and he wasn't. He sincerely believed
that the whole purpose of queers and women were to satisfy men like
him. It just seemed natural that he would call the shots sexually
and that I should be ready to service him whenever he needed it. So
I think this established a pattern wherein I really came to enjoy
pleasing straight men. It seemed to justify my being. By the time I
enrolled in college, I had no interest at all in reciprocal sex. I
derived my pleasure from pleasing real men. 

I discovered two of the campus' most notorious t-rooms the first
week of freshman orientation. Looking back, I am surprised that I
was such a good student, winning several major science awards and
ultimately a fellowship to graduate school, since I spent hours and 
hours each week cruising the johns. I majored in biology, but I
spent more hours in the campus men's rooms sucking dick than in the
labs running experiments. (It's also amazing that I never got an STD
of any kind.) Over the four years at college, I sucked off hundreds
of guys. A few were extraordinarily beautiful, others were
positively unattractive, most were somewhere in the middle, just
ordinary men.  I discovered a capacity for responding to men of
different types and ages and races. Attitude more than anything else
turned me on. I was especially interested in married men, and I was
only interested in guys I thought were straight. I couldn't get a
hard on for fellow queers. In fact, I spent a lot of time fending
off the overtures of gays who wanted mutual sex and friendship. But
in those years, before gay liberation had penetrated to the South, I
just could not respond. I did become friends with a couple of other
compulsive cocksuckers, but I had no desire for them. I got my own
orgasms by masturbating as I sucked off straight guys or when I fell
asleep at night, reviewing the cocks I had blown during the day.

During those years, I sucked off most of the men I serviced in the
johns of the buildings in the main quadrangle. After establishing
contact by signalling with feet or peeking through holes or passing
notes under the wall separating the stalls, they would stick their
cocks under the partition or we would arrange to meet in a quieter
john on campus where we could get into the same stall. In these
johns, I would sit on the toilet and the guy would stand before me
as I sucked his dick. Or he would bend me over the toilet and screw
me in my ass. Occasionally, I would suck off a guy in his dorm, or
go for a ride and do him in his car. In my senior year, I shared an
apartment off campus, and I could occasionally bring guys home. 

I cruised all hours of the day and night. It's amazing how many guys
wanted blow jobs first thing in the morning or between classes. The
campus was a hotbed of horniness and I was always hungry. I wasted
hour after hour sitting on toilets hoping that some guy would shove
a dick down my throat. And then suddenly, one of those moments of
joy would materialize in the form of a man with a boner for me. The
following are some incidents that I remember particularly well. Why
these? I'm not sure. The guys who haunt my memory are not
necessarily the handomest or hottest or nicest guys I serviced, but
for some reason they impressed themselves indelibly on me. These are
the guys I think about when I look back on my career as college
cocksucker.

THE FOOTBALL PLAYER

The very first dick I sucked during the week of freshman orientation
belonged to a guy who stuck it under the partition in the john in
the basement of the business adminstration building, the most
popular john on campus. We exchanged notes on toilet paper. In
response to my standard queries--"Age? Size? What do you like?"--he
wrote, "20, 7 1/2", Eat Me!" and I answered, "Stick it under." He
did so and I knelt on the floor and stroked his brown and sleek
lower body with my hands and worshipped it with my eyes. His dick
mesmerized me. Uncircumcized with a lot of skin pulled tightly over
the head, it gave off an aura of power as it grew from a 4-inch
semi-soft penis to a 7-inch whopper that throbbed before my eyes.
The dick was very pale--almost white--with prominent bluish veins.
It was like a piece of marble, hard and white and smooth, with an
angry red head just peeking out of the white skin. His legs were
hairy, and so was his scrotum, which hung heavy with big balls. I
remember making the effort to memorize the beautiful image before
me, knowing somehow that this was very special, something I did not
want to forget. I noticed that the guy had powerful thighs; and his
legs were darker than his dick. He had a red surgical scar around
his knee-cap. 

Intoxicated by the sight and smell of the body before me, I bent my 
head and took the powerful dick in my mouth. It had a wonderful
musky taste. I deepthroated him and then licked his balls and then
returned to nurse the beautiful head. I gently slipped my tongue
under his foreskin. I could have sucked for an hour, but he was
horny and began bucking into my mouth, establishing a rhythm that I
sustained. He shot a big load. I can remember savoring its spicy
sweetness and feeling a kind of transcendence. I was literally faint
with desire. That dick was so beautiful, and I felt so happy being
able to help the horny guy out. 

When he left I saw him through the crack in the door. He was a
solid, rawboned, rough, rather short, powerfully built guy dressed
in a western shirt and stiff bluejeans. His face was plain, but he 
exuded masculinity. I recognized him as a varsity football player, a
tackle or guard, and he was in my (very large) freshman American
history class. All semester I tried to sit next to him in class and
to engage him in conversation, but he ignored me. I don't know
whether he knew that I was the one who had blown him, but in any
event I never got to suck him again, and I never again saw him in
the johns. Yet, as my first dick on campus, he occupied a prominent
place in my fantasy life all through college.

THE ELEGANT CUBAN

Another guy I remember very distinctly was a classically handsome
Cuban--really beautiful in every respect, elegant and aristocratic
and thoroughly manly. Wonderful brown skin, perfect facial features,
jet black hair, dazzling white teeth, trim body. He had a perfectly
straight, cigar-shaped uncut dick of about 7 inches. I sucked him
fairly often during my first two years, at least once a week during
the regular terms, though sometimes several times a week. Then he
graduated. 

I met him in the same john I met the football player, and we also
connected through an exchange of notes, in which he indicated that
he wanted "To fuck or get sucked"; but we agreed to meet in another,
quieter john, which established a pattern we observed for the next
two years. We would see each other in the cruisy john and go to a
quieter one. When he recognized me he would just move his head in a
certain way, and I would trot off to our safe john and await his
arrival. 

I remember how he fed me his dick that first time as I sat on the
toilet. I wanted to be on my knees, as a gesture of gratitude and
humility, but there was no room in the cramped cubicle. I looked up
into his dark brown chocolate eyes as my mouth was stuffed with his
tasty prick and thought how beautiful he was and how grateful I was
to have the opportunity of sucking him, and silently vowed to do my
best to please him. He put his hand behind my head and established a
back-and-forth rhythm. Meanwhile, my hands were rubbing his balls
and his butt and feeling his smooth, flat belly. Afraid that he
would come too soon, I moved my mouth from his brown dick to his
balls, which were draped with fine, black pubic hair. He did not
know what I wanted when I asked him to turn around. I think he was
afraid that I wanted to fuck him. I finally whispered, "Can I lick
your ass?" With some reluctance, he turned around and bent over.

This was something new to him, I think.  I must have been the first
cocksucker to really worship his ass. It was beautifully shaped, as
elegant as the rest of him. It was very hairy, with just a hint of
sweat and musk. I slowly licked out his crack, circling around the
anus itself,  and then lapped hungrily at the hole. He could take my
tongue in his ass for only a few minutes, it excited him so. He
quickly turned around and fed me his thick, copious cum. 

"You can suck me tomorrow," he said, in a very slight Cuban accent,
as he buttoned up, "Meet me in Himes at 11:30." I had to cut a
class, but I was in Himes at 11:30 the next day. So was he.

He may have been initially surprised by my wanting to suck his ass,
but that is what he came to love most, and he came to expect it as a
matter of course, sometimes before I had even mouthed his prick. He
would bend over and thrust his buns in my face. I would spread his
cheeks with my hands and root around with my tongue and nose in his
ass, eating out the hole and licking the thick hair that surrounded
it, trying to lose myself in his warm funkiness. He would sometimes
reach around and clasp my head with his hand, jamming my head as
deeply into his ass as it would go, trying to smother me in his
butt. I never felt so content as when I was frantically licking and
sucking his hole, stuffing my tongue up his velvet-skinned butt.
Although he had indicated on his initial note to me that he wanted
to fuck, he never asked to fuck me. He always wanted his dick and
ass eaten.

Like most of the guys I sucked, I had no relationship with him
outside the johns, which was another world for most of these guys,
rigidly separated from their real worlds. I would see him
occasionally walking with his friends on campus. He would resolutely
ignore me, and I knew better than to speak to him. 

MACHO MAN

There was another Cuban that I sucked a lot in my last two years.  A
very macho guy, big but not muscular. He was one of the horniest
people I ever knew. He always had a hard on.  He seemed perpetually
in need of a blowjob. One semester he and I both had a class in the
same building (not together) at 8:30 in the morning on Mondays,
Wednesdays, and Fridays. We fell into a routine of meeting in a john
in a neighboring building every morning before class that semester
and I would suck him off first thing in the morning, then go to
class with dickbreath and with the satisfaction of having helped him
out. It was a fine way to begin the day for both of us. 

But I sucked this guy  many other times as well, sometimes even two
or three times a day. He seldom went into the stalls, he would flop
his big dick out as he stood at the urinal and wait for a cocksucker
to bite. He was as obsessed with getting his dick sucked as I was
with sucking dick. So we made a great duo, fitting together like
lock and key. 

Unlike the other Cuban, he was not very good looking and there was
nothing elegant about him.  In fact, he was gross in some ways.  He
had a very heavy beard, and he did not shave every day, so he also
seemed a little sinister.  His body, including his back, was covered
with thick hair.  He was something of a slob and sweated too much,
and his underwear was usually stained, front and rear. I sometimes
got tired of sucking him, especially if he had already come twice
that day. Even his cut dick was almost too big. It was a fleshy 
sausage of a thing. It must have been about six inches when soft and
it swelled to 8 or 9 inches when hard. His cum was thin and also
notably bitter, almost like acid.

Yet I found him very magnetic. I loved the perversity of getting on
my knees to him. He would rub his big dick all over my face,
muttering "suck, suck, suck" and then spout a litany in Spanish.  He
liked to fuck my face, holding on to my ears to steady my head. He
expressed no desire to fuck me, and, unlike the other Cuban, he had
no interest in having his ass licked. He didn't even like me playing
with his ass while I sucked him. Considering that personal hygiene
was not his strong suit, that was probably just as well. But had he
wanted my tongue up his ass, I wouldn't have hesitated, so obsessed
was I with providing good service.

The GEEK AND THE GOODLOOKER

I had a fixation on another guy who by any rational standard was
quite unattractive. This guy was pudgy, wore glasses, was losing his
hair prematurely, his body was a little "soft," he looked like a
geek, had a distinct body odor, sported a plastic pencil holder in
his shirt, and dressed atrociously. Yet somehow he excited me
greatly. 

Perhaps it was because I knew he was married  to a girl from my area
of the state. One morning in the student union, as I was taking a
break from my job as busboy, I saw their picture in the society page
of the local newspaper. I was painfully conscious of the fact that
my family was terribly poor and the girl he married was from one of
the wealthiest families in the state, and the knowledge that I was
sucking her husband may have contributed to my fixation on him. I
wondered a lot about his marriage, especially since his wife was not
only rich but also a great beauty. I sucked him off so often, I
wondered how much he had left for her.

But my excitement for him was also due to the fact that he had an
air of sexual confidence that counteracted his unattractive
appearance. He just knew that a cocksucker would be entranced by his
big, floppy sausage. It was one of those dicks that never seem to
get completely hard, but that are wonderfully pleasant to nurse on,
and then suddenly turns to steel as it shoots out an unexpected
load. Whenever this guy saw me sitting on a toilet in Allen Hall,
the English department building whose marble palace of a john
featured a long row of urinals in front of a long row of stalls
whose doors had been removed, he knew I was there for only one
purpose, to eat dick. He would just walk up and stick his prick in
my mouth.  He knew that I would never say no to it.

He was friends with another married guy that I also sucked fairly
often and on a couple of occasions I sucked them together. The other
guy was tall and goodlooking, with a dark complexion and a military
bearing. He was usually very well dressed, wearing at least a white
shirt and tie. In some ways, he was the antithesis of the geek, yet
the two of them seemed to be close friends.

On one occasion, I remember them coming into the Allen Hall john
together. They were in the midst of a conversation as they went to
the urinal and took a leak. I was sitting on the toilet in a
doorless stall. After pissing, the tall, dark-complexioned guy
walked over to me, holding out his prick. I dutifully fell to my
knees and began mouthing his dark, mushroom-headed dick. The other
guy went to one of the mirrors and combed his hair. As I was
sucking, the two of them continued talking about going out to a
movie with their wives on Saturday night. 

When the dark complexioned guy shot his slightly bitter load, I
swallowed it down, and looked up to see the other guy with his dick
out. After I took his cock into my mouth and it had swelled to full
erection, the nerdy guy turned around, telling me to "Eat my ass."
As they casually continued their conversation, I sucked and licked
as directed. I remember the geeky guy telling the goodlooking guy
that I was a very talented asslicker and he ought to make sure I
sucked out his asshole. (The goodlooking guy was in a hurry to get
to a class then, but during a later encounter he had me clean out
his ass good and subsequently came to expect asslicking
automatically.) The geeky guy finally shot his load in my mouth. He
patted my head after he came, a regular practice of his that I
liked, but could never figure out whether it was intended as a
gesture of affection or of dismissal. I kissed the hand that patted
my head.

THE CAJUN

I also remember a goodlooking Cajun who saw me peeping at him as I
sat on the toilet and he stood at the urinal in the same john. I
don't think he was actually cruising himself, but he noticed my
interest. He came over to me and asked, "Do you suck cock?" I
nodded, and he said "Meet me in the next building and I'll feed you.
But don't follow too closely. I don't want to be seen with a fruit."
Turned out he was really terrific. He knew how to make a cocksucker
work for his supper. I sucked him fairly often. He never cruised the
johns himself, but occasionally we would run into each other on 
campus, then one time he asked for my telephone number and for the
rest of his senior (my junior) year he would call me when he was
horny and arrange to meet at a particular time in a quiet, second
floor men's room in an out-of-the way building.

There was an edge to him. He once said, "I think  you're pretty sick
to want to suck dick, and even sicker to eat assholes. I can't for
the life of me see what the fuck you could get out of it. But if
you're sick enough to do it, I'll be happy to take advantage of your
depravity." On another occasion, he asked why I liked to lick his
ass. I acknowledged that part of the impulse was masochistic, but
also tried to compare it with what he might enjoy, so I suggested
that it was similar to cunnilingus, that it fulfilled the same need.
He found the suggestion deeply offensive. "Only a sick motherfucking
faggot would compare pussy eating and asslicking," he roared.
"Eating a clean pussy is healthy. Only a sick-o fruit like you would
eat out an asshole,"  he said, not altogether facetiously.

His dick was not terribly long, but it was dark and thick and hard
and cut. It oozed a lot of pre-cum from its large head. He liked to
use his dick as a kind of weapon, stabbing me with it. He also liked
his balls and dark, hairy ass sucked and he delighted in giving
orders and in trashtalking. He would occasionally ram his dick up my
ass, but that was rare since I usually serviced him in cramped
johns. Once, however, he took me to his dorm room. He really put me
through my paces then, calling me "cocksucker" and "asslicker" and
"faggot." He lay on his bed and I knelt by the side with his dick in
my mouth. While I sucked him, he swatted my ass and then started
fingering my "pussy," as he referred to my asshole. He finally
fucked me with great brutality.  Then he held me closely, expressing
some unexpected but welcome tenderness. He even kissed my forehead.
I responded intensely to his unpretentious and natural assumption of
superiority.

I once saw him at a formal party that I worked in the Union. He was
handsome as hell, dressed in a tux, and he had a beautiful young
woman on his arm. As I went around with a tray of hors d'ouevres, he
winked at me, perhaps enjoying the absurdity of the situation and
acknowledging our secret relationship.

THE HAPPY FELLA

I also remember a very relaxed, goodnatured, completely laid back 
married guy that I sucked fairly often. He was very different from 
the Cajun. He was stocky and dark-haired and genial, with a very 
shiny wedding band. He smelled of Old Spice after shave lotion. His 
dick was about 6 inches. It had been cut, but there was some skin
left. It got very hard, and he liked to thrust it down my throat,
but he was  gentle and polite. After he came, he would always say,
"Thanks. You do a great job!" He was nice-looking without being
truly handsome. There was something pleasant and happy go lucky
about him that was very appealing. I was always happy to suck him. 

He was someone I thought I probably could get to know outside the
johns, but it never developed. When I saw him around campus, he
would--unlike most of the guys I serviced--speak and smile, and
sometimes he would ask, "Are you hungry? I'm kinda horny," and off
we would go in search of a quiet john where I could take the starch
out of his dick. I'm not sure of this, but I somehow got the
impression that his wife remained in their hometown in the northern
part of the state and that he only saw her on alternate weekends. If
so, that probably explains his perpetual horniness.  In my junior
year, I probably got more cum from him than his wife did. He was a
genuinely nice guy.

THE BODY BUILDER

There was also a really handsome guy with an incredibly muscular
physique and a big rock-hard dick that I sucked several times at
night outdoors in a Greek Theatre that was built into a hillside.  I
met him one night as I was walking through the theatre on a shortcut
to a diner where I was working at the time. I almost stumbled over
him as he lay on the ground. I noticed that he had a big lump in his
pants, so, glancing meaningfully at his crotch, I asked if he needed
any help? He said, almost under his breath, "Are you offering me a
blow job?" When I answered yes, he pulled his big prick out of his
pants and said, "Hop to it." 

His name was Doug and he came from a suburb of New Orleans. He did 
not cruise the johns, but we rendezvoused several times in the Greek
Theatre. He smelled wonderful, the odor of sandalwood, and it was a
pleasure to revel in his gorgeous, almost hairless, silky- smooth
body. His dick was straight and over-sized, with a large head and a
big piss-hole.  He was proud of his extraordinary body, and he
enjoyed the body worship. But I had the feeling that he was deeply
unhappy about something. As we lay together under the stars on warm
nights, he would talk about his father as I licked his entire body.
I could never understand enough of the rap about his father to know
exactly what the problem was.  Finally, after I had tongued and
nosed all around, he would pull me between his legs and place my
mouth on his dick and rhythmically rock my head up and down until he
came, at which point he would jam his long cock down my throat. His
cum had a distinctive walnutty taste.

MIDNIGHT CALLER 

During my senior year, when I shared an apartment off-campus, I met
a tall, skinny blond guy named Jerry. He was very pale, with smooth
and creamy skin and bright blue eyes. I met him in a john and I
would often do him on campus, but he also would sometimes call up at
midnight wanting to know if he could come by for a blow job. I never
told him no. Although I was poor as a mouse, and could not afford to
drink myself, I began buying six-packs of his favorite beer so there
would be something for him to drink when he came over. When he
entered  my bedroom, he would begin unfastening his pants. When he
had taken them off, he would nearly always say, "Shit, I'm as horny
as an armidillo. Get to sucking, man."

Jerry had a long, thin, cut dick, and strawberry blond pubic hair.
He liked to fuck me in both my mouth and my ass and to sit on my
face, really grinding his skinny butt in my nose and mouth. 

One time he brought a friend who was visiting him from New Orleans.
One of them fucked me while I sucked the other. Then they switched.
The friend was Jerry's opposite in appearance, being short, dark and
hairy, with a big dick and heavy balls. They made a handsome couple,
and I wondered if they might really be attracted to each other but
could only have sex with each other by using me. But maybe they were
just good friends. 

Jerry had a kinky streak. He whipped my ass with a belt once and
pissed in my mouth once.  His long dick really got hard as he used
his belt on my ass. He was sitting on the couch in my living room. I
was kneeling between his legs, and he swung the belt with his right
hand while he used his left hand to guide my head up and down on his
dick. I noticed the correlation between his whipping and his
erection and realized that the whipping really turned him on. He
finally held my head down and spurted a big load into my mouth.

The time he pissed in my mouth was one night when he was drunk before
he even called and proceeded to drink several beers as I sucked him.
He said, "I gotta get rid of this beer before I can come. Watch
out!" and proceeded to let go. It was weak piss, with a sweet taste,
and I guzzled it down. I enjoyed these experiences because they gave
Jerry pleasure, but he never repeated them and I consequently never
really developed a taste for either drinking piss or getting
whipped, and no one else I knew during those years was into such
fetishes. 

I often saw Jerry around campus with his girlfriend and with other
guys; he never spoke. He was very popular and a member (maybe even
president) of a fraternity. I think he was also involved in student
government. He lived in a very different world from me.  But he had
needs that only a cocksucker like me could meet, and I was grateful
for his midnight visits.

TINY DICK

There was another guy whom I remember vividly, a little older than
most students. So he must have been a grad student or an
administrator of some kind. He always wore a tie. He was very good
looking with an open Irish face, sandy blond hair, green eyes, and
gleaming white teeth. He was married, as his wedding ring attested.
His dick was tiny (really tiny), and I wondered whether he could
satisfy his wife. It was only about an inch soft and about two
inches hard. He had a beautiful fleshy ass that I loved to suck. The
buns were alabaster white, with only a few wisps of ginger hair in
the crack, and the purplish hole itself was small and perfectly
formed and eminently lickable, smooth as velvet and pliant to the
tongue. I loved to lap his hole and to stick my tongue up it. He was
always scrupulously clean, but he had a distinctive odor that I
liked to take in with deep breaths as I buried my face in his buns.

I did him often my last two years and it was always great. I treated
his small dick with all the respect and awe that I would accord a
big one. And anyway, I loved sucking his ass so much I probably
would have serviced him even if he had no dick at all.  But I
suspect size queens or women may have turned him down or made fun of
him because of his tiny meat, so I think he was happy that I was so
genuinely enthusiastic about servicing him and so respectful of his
equipment. I would hold his dick in my mouth for a long time after
he shot, carefully nursing out any seepings, and then blow it dry
and kiss its head before returning it to his boxer shorts. 

One day around noon I passed him as I hurried to a classroom building
to take a three-hour exam. He stopped and asked if I could come to
his place and suck him off. His wife would be away until 3:00 p.m.
Inasmuch as I had previously only done him in johns, this would have
been great. But, alas, I had the exam to take and told him I
couldn't. I never saw him again. I regret not saying to hell with
the exam!

COUNTRY BOY

I also remember a lanky kid with a country accent. He must have been
a freshman when I was a senior. He was good looking in a hick kind
of way, with regular features, dark eyes, brown hair, freckled face.
He came up to me in the halls of a classroom building at a time when
I was definitely not cruising and, out of the blue, asked, "Do you
suck?" He made no effort to keep his voice down. He must have
noticed me cruising the johns on another occasion, so maybe this was
not as bold as it seemed at the time.  But such openness violated
the entire code of anonymity on which the john culture thrived. He
must have been really horny. I was a little startled, but quickly
gulped, "Yes." He said, "Follow me" and led me to a quiet john where
I sat on the toilet and swallowed his proffered dick. 

He was desperate for a blow job. His standard six-incher shot off a
heavy load in about ten seconds. But when I started to pull away, he
said, "Keep sucking" and proceeded to get hard again.  This time he
fucked my face for about five minutes before shooting another sweet
and ample load.

I saw this guy a couple of times more before I graduated. He told me
that he had never been sucked until he started college, but, knowing
that blow jobs were so readily available, he didn't like to jack off
now. That may explain why he always had such heavy loads.           
was  gentle and polite. After he came, he would always say,


                                "College Cocksucker"
                                        Part Two

During the week, I sucked cock on campus, but during the weekends
I would often go into town and cruise an area near the old state
capitol building, where there were two bus stations and a train
station, all of which had cruisy johns, as did a couple of hotels
located in the area. One street was particularly notorious as a
place to make assignations. Guys looking for cocksuckers would
either drive their cars slowly down the street, or would park and
wait for the cocksuckers to come up to the car and make contact
with them.


GOLDEN BOY

I remember one hot night during my senior year walking up to this
shiny red corvette parked there. The driver was as sleek and beautiful as
the car. He was a very handsome preppy type, a freshman at the university,
but one
whom I had never seen in the johns on campus. I said, "How's it going," and
he replied, a little nervously, but with authority, "I need a blow job. Do
you suck?" He made it very emphatic that "I'm not that way myself" and that
he was interested in a completely one-way transaction. Dazzlingly
good-looking, he had a natural, perfectly unselfconscious arrogance about
him, but seemed inexperienced with the scene. I got in and as he drove away
I groped him and played with his dick. "You're really asking for it, aren't
you?" he said. Hanging from the rear-view mirror was a woman's garter,
perhaps a trophy or a memento from a girlfriend.

He finally pulled over near a pedestrian bridge that spanned a
busy highway. He said the bridge would be a good place to get
blown because you could see if anyone approached. So we mounted
the bridge, he leading the way. Although I was three years older
and a couple of inches taller, he was clearly in charge. When he
found what he thought was a safe spot, he unbuttoned his cutoffs
and pulled them and his sparkling white jockey shorts down. He put 
his hands on my shoulders and pushed me to my knees. I eagerly took 
his pretty, rock-hard 7" dick in my mouth and started sucking. His 
crotch emitted a heavenly odor, musk and nervous sweat over a mildly 
scented soap.

He was so goodlooking, and his skin so smooth and firm, I wanted
to do an excellent job for him. I deepthroated him and he bucked
into my mouth for about five minutes. I captured his balls in my
mouth and sucked them good. "Nice," he said. Then I asked him, "Can 
I lick your ass?" He seemed a little startled by the request, but turned 
around to present me with his perfectly shaped melon butt. There were 
only a few strands of brown hair surrounding his luscious hole. I licked his
crack and burrowed into his deeply recessed hole with my tongue, enjoying
the sweaty taste and intoxicating aroma. He almost went crazy. He bucked
back in my face and reached his hands behind him to try to spread his buns even
further apart, so I could stuff my tongue further into his hole. He
exclaimed, "Wow! That's good. Really good." Apparently, he'd never been
rimmed before. 

But, luckily, in the midst of all this heavy breathing, he noticed that a
police car had pulled up and two young cops were mounting the steps to
the bridge. I jumped up from my knees. We quickly got ourselves
together, he pulling up his cutoffs and tucking in his shirt, me
trying to dust off the dirt on the knees of my pants and to wipe off
the sweat and spit on my face that had been buried in the young
man's buns. I almost panicked but he handled the whole thing with
great aplomp. He told the cops he just wanted to see the view
from the bridge. He clearly was used to dealing with people from
a position of authority. He gave off a kind of imperious
confidence. As the cops left, they were calling him "Yes, sir" and 
apologizing for any inconvenience. They just ignored me. I wonder if
they suspected what was going on?

He hadn't got off and he was still horny. He lived in a frat
house on campus, so we couldn't go there. And for some reason we
couldn't go to my place--maybe my roommate was home. But the dazzling
freshman  was so turned on by the sucking, and especially the ass 
licking, that he decided to rent a motel room. I told him I would do 
anything he liked. 

I loved expressing my subservience to this golden boy. I was a
senior, he was a freshman; I was 21, he was probably 18; but we
came from very different backgrounds. He was from a very wealthy
family and knew how to give orders to servants and others. In
contrast, I came from a very poor family and was struggling via
scholarships and menial jobs to get through college. Somehow, I
found those contrasts very erotic, and it just seemed perfectly 
appropriate to both of us that I should be the golden boy's slave.

In the motel room he sprawled naked on the bed and I worshipped
his body. I spent about four hours sucking him in every possible
position. He surrendered his tanned, well developed, athletic
body to my tongue. I really ate out his gorgeous ass and licked
his white buns. He sat on my face and had me tongue-fuck his
ass. Then he'd lie on his stomach, and I would get between his legs and lick
his buns and asshole. Then he'd turn over and I'd suck his cock. After
coming twice in my mouth, he finally decided he wanted
to fuck me. We had no lubricant, so he sent me out to buy a tube of k-y
jelly. When I returned, he gave me a really vigorous fucking. I felt
completely fulfilled, even if my tongue and asshole were sore. It
was a great evening.

A couple of weeks later, just as the semester was nearly over and
I was preparing to leave for good, I ran into him on campus. We
were both on the way to the library. Neither of us was cruising
at the time. But when he saw me, he looked around to see that no
one he knew was in the vicinity, and said, "Meet me in the
upstairs john in 5 minutes." I did as he told me. I was sitting
on the john waiting for him as he came in sporting a hardon. I sank 
to my knees as he stuck his pretty dick in my mouth and placed his 
hands on the back of my head. After shooting one load, he turned around and
stuck his ass in my face. "Lick it," he ordered, and my tongue went to
work. "Clean out my ass for me," he said, as I smothered myself
in his perfectly clean, preppy butt. He shot another load before
we parted. I said, "Thank you" and he ruffled my hair. It was the last time 
I saw him.

THE MIDGET

In the same downtown cruising area, I met a midget. He must have
been about 40 and about 4-feet tall with dark red hair and a bushy 
mustache. He was hefty and his hips were large. He drove a big
car, maybe a cadillac or pontiac, and smoked a big cigar. I went
up to the parked car. He said, "I'm looking for a queer. Do I
have the right party?" A little startled by his use of the word
"queer," which in those days spelled utter contempt, I
nevertheless said, "Sure." I got into the car and reached over to
his lap. His pants were unbuttoned and his big, juicy, uncut dick
was exposed. I played with it as he drove back to my place. "You like 
big dicks, don't you?" he observed.

We went into my bedroom, where I got on my knees in front of a
floor-length mirror and began to worship his big piece of meat. 
It was cut and about 7 inches long. It would have been large on 
anyone, but on him it looked enormous, it was so out of proportion 
to the rest of his body.  He was so short that even on my knees I 
was taller than he was and I had to bend over to take
his dick in my mouth. He really loved it. He especially enjoyed watching 
himself in the mirror as he dominated me with his prick. 

He put me through my paces. He made me lick his feet and suck his balls. He
would fuck me for a while, then take it out of my ass, and make me go 
down on it again, all the while puffing away on his cigar. He talked about his 
having wanted to find a queer for a long time. He said "Yeah, my buddy
was right. He told me that faggots are better cocksuckers than broads any
day."  But I suspect what he liked even more than the cocksucking itself was
my submissiveness to him. He wound up shooting a big load on my face. I remember
spreading the cum all around my face with my hands before I rose
to my feet and went to the bathroom to wash it off. I brought back a wet
soapy washcloth and lovingly cleaned up the midget's private parts.

I really enjoyed it. I don't know why I never saw him again. But I
suspect that the whole encounter may have been a kind of
aberration for him. I think he may have been a little embarrassed
by his own dominant streak and by the perversity of the
situation. I would have sucked him whenever he wanted it.

THE ALOOF MAN

Another guy I met in that area I sucked off pretty regularly,
perhaps once a month. He was a man in his thirties, with thick,
slicked back dirty blond hair. He resembled James Dean in his build and
coloration. Although he was slightly built, he exuded a sense of danger
somehow. He seemed like a tightly coiled spring. I had the
impression that he lived in a small town about 50 or more miles away and
would drive in on the weekend for a blow job. He wore a wedding band. 

I originally met him in the bus station john, where he stood at
the urinal and exposed his skinny 7-inch cut dick. But most often
I would meet him in his parked car. As soon as he saw me
approaching, he would unlock the car door and unzip his pants.
After I got in the car and he had muttered a greeting, he would
drive off in search of a secluded place. I would sometimes
attempt a conversation, but he would have none of it. I guess he
didn't want to waste time hearing a cocksucker talk. 

After a minute or so, he would grab my head and pull it down to
his dick and I would nurse on it as he drove. I remember loving the
whiff I got of his body odor and the fleshy smoothness of his
prick as it slowly hardened in my mouth. He would finally park,
push back the carseat, and then get down to some serious face
fucking. He would say things like, "Eat it, dicklover. That's it,
take it all the way down your motherfucking throat, you bitch."
When he shot, he'd say "Don't waste a drop. Swallow it all."
Then, with great deliberation, he would remove my mouth from his
dick, carefully wipe off his dick with a white handkerchief,
button up his pants, return the carseat to its original position,
put the car in gear, and drive back to where he had picked me up,
saying not a word. When we had gotten back to where we had met,
he would reach over and open the door on my side of the car and
say, "Get out." 

He was downright unfriendly, but somehow his aloofness and taciturnity 
turned me on, and whenever I saw his car parked on the street, I would
eagerly head right on over to it.

DIVORCED MAN

Another guy I saw several times was one I nicknamed "Divorced
man." I'm not sure why, but I had the impression that he had just
left his wife. He lived in a small apartment in a big house near
the bus station. He was in his late thirties or early forties,
with thinning dark hair, but very handsome in a hyper-masculine way.
He gave off the aura of an injured man, which may be why he always seemed
potentially dangerous and violent to me, which paradoxically only increased
his attraction in my eyes.

I met him in a hotel john, where he was sporting a big hard-on as
he stood close to the urinal. When I licked my lips, he gave me a
clearer view of his fat dick. It must have been about 7 inches
long, and very thick and dark. "I'm not interested in any fag
romancing, just in cornholing," he said bluntly. "Can you take this up your
ass?" When I assured him that I could, we left for his place. 

He discouraged conversation as we walked along, answering my
questions with grunts. When we got to his place, we immediately
went into the tiny bedroom. I fell to my knees and took his dick out of his
pants and went down on him. But he pulled me up, saying, "I don't want to
get sucked, I want to fuck." We took off our clothes and got into his single 
bed. He had me oil up my ass and sit on his dick. It was quite a struggle
getting the thick dick up my ass. But as soon as I was comfortable with it,
he decided that he did not like looking at my dick, so he made me get off and
remount him with my back facing him. After readjusting to the
beercan-sized dick in my ass, I bounced up and down, really
enjoying myself.  After he shot off up my ass, he made me
dismount and clean his dick with my mouth. "Don't you think you
should lick my cock clean?" he asked, as I felt his spent prick
ooze out of my hole, but the edge to his voice indicated that
it was not a question.

On subsequent meetings, once after picking him up in the bus
station john and once in a hotel john, I got in some more
extensive dick sucking, but he always wound up having me fuck
myself on his big dick. He called me "bitch" and "girlie" and liked 
to redden my ass with open-handed slaps. Since I am not effeminate, 
these terms surprised me. But compared to him almost anyone 
appeared effeminate, and maybe it was necessary for him
to think of queers as girlish, or maybe it was just a way to humiliate me.
In any case, he really turned me on, but I was a little frightened of him.
He is someone whom I knew it would be dangerous to cross in any way. I also
felt that he was badly hurt and saddened by something, probably a divorce or
some other traumatic experience.

THE THAI GUY

Another memorable encounter was with a Thai man, probably in his
early or mid-twenties. He was actually quite unattractive. He was a
short, thin, dark brown (almost black) young man, with a kind of 
squashed-up monkey face. I probably would not have been at all interested
except that when I encountered him in the hotel john, he made it
perfectly clear that he expected me to bend over for him. "I
fuck, you suck," he said in broken but pointed English. 

We went to his room in the hotel. He had a six-inch dick, uncut,
with a big head. Although his face was unattractive, his smooth
brown body was hard and compact, with satin skin that was
wonderful to run my hands over. It turned out that he was
absolutely magic in bed, self-assured and naturally dominant. 
His cock was wonderful to suck, silky and potent. As he lay on the 
bed with his arms behind his head, he said, "Suck." I began giving 
him head. I slipped my tongue under his foreskin and
savored the spicy juices there. Then I felt his hands on my head,
demanding that I deepthroat him. He really knew how to jam the
cock down my throat. 

He then sat on my face, rubbing his boyishly skinny ass all over
my face, leaving a trail of spit on my face, but returning to
place his dark, hairless hole right over my tongue. "Suck," he barked. 
I forced several inches of tongue up his ass. 

He then climbed off my face and raised my legs over my shoulders and
proceeded to fuck me better than I have ever been fucked before or since.
I think it must have been something in his rhythm and in the
relentlessness of his strokes. He fucked for a very long time, in several
different positions, side to side, the missionary position, his riding my
back, etc., and my ass responded more fully to a fucking than it ever had
before or since. I bucked back, meeting his thrusts with my own. We both
emitted loud sighs and "ahs" as we thrust at each other. I wound up shooting
a load simply from being fucked, something that has never happened to me any
other
time. When he pulled out of me, I eagerly sucked his shriveling
dick clean, wanting to pay him homage for having made me respond
so fully. "Good suck, good fuck," he said.

I started out very unenthusiastic about this encounter, but ended
it absolutely enthralled. I felt well and truly fucked.
Unfortunately, I never saw him again. I think he must have been
in town on business.


THE PROFESSOR


Another guy I only saw once, but whom I still remember was "The
Professor." He was a professor from Kansas (I think) in town for
a conference. I met him downtown, in a hotel john, where he
showed a big dick as he stood next to me at a trough urinal. When he saw me
eyeing it, he asked "Are you a cocksucker?" When I nodded, he said, "Then I
guess you'll like this," as he gave me a more complete view.  "Do you like
to suck a long time?" he wanted to know. "I mean several hours," he added.
When I said yes, he said "Let's see how good you are." I knelt by the urinal
and went down on him. Apparently I passed his test, for he pulled me up from
my knees, and said, "Let's go to my room."


We took a cab to the campus, where he was staying in a conference
center dorm. He was a tall, lanky guy, probably in his mid to
late 40s. He had a salt-and-pepper beard and was balding on top
and had thick bushy eyebrows. His body was tough and wiry and he
was very virile. His dick was both thick and long. And he had
remarkable staying power. I sucked him for over 2 hours. 

He was married, and normally did not fuck around with men, he
said, but on trips he liked to find a longwinded cocksucker to
really do a good job on his peter. He told me about a cocksucker
he met in New York at Rockefeller Center who could suck for
hours. The New York cocksucker was apparently the best he had
ever had and he implied that my performance would be measured
against his. 

He lay down on his bed, and I got between his legs. As I started
to suck him, I began to masturbate myself. When he noticed that I
was playing with my cock, he sat up and forcefully knocked my hands 
away. He said, "You're here to suck, not to jerk off.  Pay attention 
to my cock not yours." 

He had no interest in fucking or in getting rimmed, emphatically
discouraging my attempts to lick his balls or to nose beneath them. "Stay on
the dick," he said. He just wanted his dick sucked for a long time. He would
occasionally say something like "Ah, that feels good. That's the way. Suck
it!" but mostly he was silent, wrapped up in the pleasure of receiving a
blow job just the way
he wanted it. By the time he shot, my jaw was aching, but I was
happy to oblige him. As I was leaving, he said, "Here's a tip," and
slipped a $5.00 bill in my hand. I was unsure whether he 
intended the tip as a compliment or an insult. Now I think he meant it
as a token of appreciation for a job well done, though clearly he thought
of cocksuckers as simply a cheaper kind of whore.

I doubt that these are memories that the Alumni magazine would be
interested in publishing, but the secret society of the johns was
an important part of the college experience for a lot of us,
either as "college cocksuckers" or as the larger group of horny
guys who needed blow jobs. Admittedly, my career as college
cocksucker was extreme. I had almost no social life, between my
jobs, my studying, and my compulsive cocksucking. Yet I was not
unhappy, and I regret nothing. 

Interestingly, my obsession with cocksucking subsided almost
immediately upon graduation, only to  periodically resurface
since then. I developed better social skills, made friends,
succeeded in my career, even found a lover, yet I remember the
guys I serviced in college with great fondness. I like to think
that I helped make them happy.  I am grateful to them for 
providing me bright moments of joy. I wonder if any of them will
be attending the reunion this year.