Date: Sun, 30 Mar 2014 15:42:07 -0400
From: Dre Sync <nytoscb@gmail.com>
Subject: Blowing a Pint

Hey guys, it's been quite a while since I've written for Nifty, or written
erotica period.  I'm mulling over an e-book of shorts but trying to see if
I've still got it. Would love comments, good and bad, especially the bad.

Would be cool to know who thinks this is real and who thinks it is fake.

Married? There was no way, he was a child! A child with one of the largest
pieces I've ever seen and an aggression that I thankfully wasn't fully
privy to, but a child.

Those were the thoughts rushing through my mind as I hopped down the four
stories of his walk-up.  It had taken four hours - which was decidedly a
long time for me - but it happened.  To be quite honest, I'm not sure why I
continued to message him for all that time.  Maybe it was his boldness:
Sometimes I like dom'ing and getting rough; Wanna come blow me and eat me?;
I want you to swallow me. Or maybe it was a game: he seemed put off at
first by the fact that I wouldn't trade face pictures but pushed through
the conversation anyway.

No matter what it was, a full four hours after he chatted me with my then
recently updated "Not vers but have something for bottoms and the right
tops" description I found myself staring down into the face of what looked
like a prepubescent boy. And it took mere seconds for me to decide that
somewhere along the line I'd made a mistake that I had to rectify.

Hey buddy, you're not what I expected. I don't know if this is going to
work out.

It caught in my throat as he rubbed against his low-calf grazing gym shorts
and what I thought was a heavy wrinkle was revealed for what it actually
was... I couldn't leave.

Another rub; jump. Take off your shirt. I'm normally pretty skittish about
losing my own wardrobe but even with my necklace, hair and glasses, the
shirt was gone in seconds and I found myself sinking: to my knees, down his
shaft, with my hands lightly on his waist until I heard an unexpected sigh
from the smallest person possibly carrying the largest penis I'd ever seen
in my life.

Recounting it makes it sound like it was all a blur, which is accurate.
The Grindr back and forth was lazy and drawn out like a heavyweight
wrestling match, reaching a frenzied speed only at the very end when he
decided he had to have it and couldn't wait any longer.  And now here he
was, a scant two minutes after seeing my face, his thick shaft buried, and
still burying down my throat.

You've got to be a champ about it though, learning when it's ok to breathe
through the nose, massaging with your throat, backing off to the head
slowly and teasing with the tongue for a prolonged period just until you
see his boredom start to creep in and then diving back onto him for a quick
fifteen reps of your lips racing across the length of his piece, your
tongue darting back and forth; darting, poking and swirling. You've got to
be a champ.

And when you feel his hand that's been resting on your shoulder go from a
light coaxing flutter to a steady, urging anchor on your head and then
closing into a fist full of your hair, now pulling the two of you ever
closer, you have to know your attention should change from the rhythm and
method of bobbing to opening up your throat and finding your breath as his
hips rear back and forth pushing his tip from your lips back into the
caverns of your throat and beyond. Attention must be paid.

***

He was surprisingly open.  Those small, slightly yellow cupcakes of his
were meaty and perky, and spread as he bent at the waist in his hallway -
did I forget to mention we'd never left there - and I dove in to find a
surprisingly open hole for the "TOTAL TOP" persona that the pint-sized
boy's profile claimed. The checks were perfect really, requiring no
assistance in separating, and just large enough to cup each one in a palm
in the theoretical event that I would up atop him, spreading him wide as I
drilled - lazily no doubt - into him.

And though open holes, moaners and lithe bodies eager to be rimmed so much
that they push back onto me, only beckon for a condom shielded load, I kept
my composure and only rimmed him, his face pressed hard against the wall
for a few seconds before he was pushing back on to me and then was atop me,
riding my tongue in an eager yet slowly savoring pace while he stroked
himself.

Finally, he raised and I flipped over, with anticipation of another drawn
out session of suckling hut his frenzied thrusts, shortening on each bout
quickly rewarded me with a sort of prize of my own.

A glass of water and small chat later, I saw the ring. Nevermind though,
hopefully I'll be back for a closer look.