He had a 7″ cock, on the bigger side of cocks I’ve seen in real life. Not the biggest, but by far not the smallest. Not too thick, not too slim. Cut. A thick forest of hair at the base. Average size balls. He didn’t like me touching them with my hands. Just my tongue.
The rest of him was average. 5’9″, or so his tinder profile said. Brown hair, brown eyes. He had a big Jon Krasinski nose. Wasn’t slim or toned or really chubby or anything. Jake Johnson vibe (can you tell I’ve been spending lockdown rewatching sitcoms?).
I’m 33 and slim and never been paler. Dark brown messily bobbed hair (been cutting it myself). Very boyish body, I only ever wear bralettes if I want to hide my nipples. I’m 5’1 and as of yesterday 108 lbs. I seem to be shrinking in lockdown, I swear I was 5’2″ when this all started. Big thick bush that I haven’t touched since 2018 – just keep buying bathing suit bottoms with more coverage.
I had gotten kind of addicted to cocksucking on Tinder. I’d done the long term relationship deal and it had just ended, again, and I was tired of the regular game, so I made up my own. My game was trying to type as few messages as possible before I had a cock in my mouth. Since 2020 started, I had an even dozen success stories. More messages spent convincing a guy I was for real then anything else.
But all 12 guys ruined it by wanting to fuck too. Some asked while I was sucking them, which I just had to take personally. I was worshipping their dick with my mouth, evenly sucking the length of them, slurping and moaning and milking their shafts with my tight lips, my tongue, my suction. Was I doing it poorly? Even putting their hands on my head to show them they could hold my head in place and fuck my throat like a pussy, or move my head so I could be their living fleshlight, it wasn’t all they wanted.
Some asked after, which made more sense. I’m sure I looked pretty fuckable, my mouth pink from exertion, chin dripping, make-up ruined. Having just taken some of their load down my throat and the rest on my face.
But I didn’t want that. I wanted to suck cock. I wanted that to be what I was there for. Nothing else. I don’t really know why. It’s an old fantasy, maybe my oldest at this point. I’m in someone’s phone as “cocksucker.” They expect me to be basically free if they need me, and always hungry for their cock.
I don’t have to be funny or smart or winning, I just have to be good at keeping their dick wet. I don’t even have to look good to them – my mouth is the only thing they care about.
But guys always want more. The whole “guys aren’t sensitive” thing is a joke. One guy who had me suck him while he listened to some indie pop band’s record, accused me of “using him for his dick.” Yeah man. That was the point. I asked to give you a blowjob in the first message, did you think this was the beginning to your own rom com?
But then I met Mr. 7″ Cock. Mr. Wonderful. I told him as soon as we matched, “I would like to suck your cock.” And he typed back, “if you’re not a bot, tell me where you’d like me to be.” I assume a bot would have said something about a website for more information at this point, but I typed, “Anywhere you’d like. Just let me know where and when and if you’d like me to wear anything special.”
He told me he wanted me in a black turtleneck that I had on in one of my pictures. I was doing that “hiding my whole body in a slouchy sweater” pose that was big in magazines in the 90s I feel like. It was big and knit and I didn’t wear a single thing underneath, even though it was March and it was cold.
He lived in a big apartment complex, I had to get let in by a doorman. After he buzzed me in and I was in the elevator, he told me to let myself in and find him in his living room.
At this point my heart was racing. My nipples were rock hard, and I was trying to keep myself from trembling out of sheer fear and excitement. You’re supposed to listen to your fear responses but instead I was just thinking “be a cocksucker” in neon letters, blaring in my head.
His door was a little open, so I slipped through and closed it. I could hear that he was watching blowjob porn. I followed the sounds of sucking. He was on his couch, naked. His dick was soft and bathed in blue light from the screen, which was massive and wall mounted. I looked at his eyes and he gave me a soft, “Hey.” Then his eyes went back to the screen.
I wasn’t sure what to do next. Most guys filled in this point with talking or asking me questions or telling me what they thought about when they saw my profile or my message. No one had just invited me in like this, given me just what I wanted.
I moved to take my sweater off, but he said “leave it on” when my fingers went to the hem. Instead I just dropped to my knees and went for his cock. He was instantly hard as soon as I got near. I didn’t even get to feel it grow in my mouth, but that was okay. I started to lick it and bathe it with my tongue. He showed no signs of paying attention to me at first as I licked his shaft, kissed the tip of him, ran his thickness over my face.
Then he put his hand on the back of my head and I felt like it was a sign. Almost like leading in a ballroom dance. And I went to sucking, first just half of him, letting my spit and drool drip down his shaft, then all of him, slow and steady, in and out, his palm cradling the back of my head.
I don’t know how long I did that.
It must have been a long time.
I heard videos change. Music start and stop. He was just surfing. And I was just sucking. Sometimes using my tongue along the underside of his shaft, flat and pressed up against it, sometimes swirling it around his thickness.
When I felt him start to get close, it was a shudder in his dick. He put his other hand on my head and leaned forward, shifting to get his dick a little deeper down my throat for the end, holding me in place while he thrusted and I just remembered that it’s okay not to breathe for a little while. I know I moaned through his fucking, and he did too, when he finally came. I didn’t even feel the difference or taste it, it was all so wet and so hard and so sense deprived.
And then he was out of my mouth and still cumming, hot wet ropes coating my sweater, all down the shoulders and the front as he pushed me out of the way and grasped around the base to aim.
His eyes were wide in surprise, but this was no accident. I could tell this was a little kink for him, covering clothes in cum.
He slumped back on the couch and turned off the television. “Can you go now?” he asked me. It seemed like a real question, like I could ask to use his bathroom if I wanted to, but he’d rather the option that I just leave.
So I just left. I forgot to look at any clocks on the way home. I forgot to do anything. I just laid in my bed and thought of the sounds of sucking, the glow of him, the way he knew exactly how I’d use him, it seemed, and how he’d use me.
I didn’t write to him, but I did keep my mind off him by reading the news. And then the news is all there was. He texted me exactly three times:
1. a cock pic
2. “Save this as my contact picture”
3. “You’re coming over again when this is over.”
That was 170 days ago. 181 days ago I had his dick in my mouth.
I want to suck more cock. I want to suck his cock. I miss being a cocksucker.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/ilayfb/i_miss_being_a_cocksucker_fmoralstr8
Fuck yes ?