Zane is hotter than fifty shades of grey! fuck sake. you should write books. Book porn!
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More More more!!
I Sucked a Straight Irish Guy Off and Made Him Cum for the First Time
- Thread starter Zaneb
- Start date
You do a wonderful job of writing in the experiential present. It's almost stream of consciousness. Very immediate and erotic. Outstanding job. Thanks.I sucked a straight Irish guy off and made him cum for the first time - part 3
Everyone is 18+ and everything is fully consensual.
Then he slid his hands under my arms and lifted me off the floor. He did it easily. My legs wrapped around his waist without thinking. Chest to chest. His cock pressed wet against my stomach, still heavy and hard between us. He carried me into the bedroom. Water dotted the floor, then the sheets. He set me down and stayed above me, breath still rough, eyes clear. I knew where this was going.
He kissed me again, then pulled back.
“I want to explore you.”
He said it quietly, almost careful, like he needed to say it out loud to believe it. Then he started.
Kissed my throat. My collarbone. Licked the water from my chest. Pressed his mouth between my ribs and breathed me in.
His lips kept moving. Down my stomach. Over my hip. Along the inside of my thigh. He lifted my legs one at a time and kissed behind my knees. Licked the soft parts until I twitched. He smiled.
I reached for his cock. He pushed my hand away gently.
“Don’t,” he said. “This is about you.”
I laughed, heat in my face. “I’m not used to that.”
He kissed my ankle. “You better get used to it.”
His hands came to my thighs. Opened me slow. He kissed between them, then lower, breath warm against me. He looked up.
“Can I…”
I nodded.
His tongue came first. Careful. Then more. He licked me open. I moaned. My hips shifted without thinking.
He paused. Pressed a hand to my stomach to keep me still. His cock throbbed against the sheets.
“I want to try something. Just tell me if it’s too much.”
His finger circled me. Wet. Slow. Then pressed.
I held my breath.
He kissed my thigh. Waited.
Then it slid in.
I gasped.
“You okay?”
I nodded.
He moved deeper. Curled.
My body jolted.
“There?”
I nodded again, shakier.
He did it again. I started leaking.
He kept going. Curl, press, pause. My thighs trembled. My chest rose uneven.
He kissed my chest. Whispered something, I didn’t catch it. His cock still hard between us, untouched.
Two fingers now. Moving slow. Finding that place over and over.
My voice came out broken. His name. I didn’t mean to say it.
He looked at me, kissed my hip. His fingers slid out. Wet. He tasted them.
Then he lay down beside me. Chest to my side, leg across mine.
“You’re open,” he said, almost in awe.
I couldn’t speak.
“You look like you’re floating.”
I was. Drifting in my body, everything soft. My hole fluttered. My cock still leaking. His pressed against me now, hot, heavy.
“Does it hurt?”
“No,” he said. “It just… needs.”
His forehead against mine. I kissed him. He kissed back. Slow, open.
I reached for him. He let me hold it this time. My fingers curled around the base. It jumped.
Then he pulled my hand away again.
“I want to see how much you can take.”
He moved back. Lifted my legs. Held them there. Just looked.
His cock hovered at my entrance. Leaking. Glowing.
“You’re incredible.”
I nodded. That’s all I could do.
He pressed forward. Just the tip.
I gasped. Stretched.
“Too much?”
“No,” I breathed. “Don’t move.”
He stayed still. The weight of him inside me, pulsing.
I clenched around him.
He exhaled.
“I can feel everything.”
He kissed my jaw. His hands moved to my chest. His thumbs brushed my nipples. I twitched.
“You’re sensitive,” he said.
He leaned down. Licked one. Closed his mouth and sucked.
I moaned. Sharp and high. My hips twitched. He kissed across to the other and sucked again, firmer.
My body clamped around him. His cock kicked. A drop hit my stomach.
“You’re gonna make me cum without even moving.”
I was already shaking.
“You first,” he said.
He cupped my balls. Brushed my cock. Didn’t stroke. Just held me.
His hips moved a little. Not deeper. Just the angle. His tip pushed right into that spot again.
I whimpered.
“You feel so good,” he whispered. “I could stay here all day.”
Then he kissed me again. Didn’t stop.
I started to shake. It rolled up from my thighs. My hole clenched around him. My cock pulsed.
I moaned into his mouth.
Then it broke.
My back arched. I choked out something that wasn’t a word.
I came.
Not with my cock. Not with my hands.
It poured out of me. Leaking up my stomach. Pulse after pulse. I couldn’t stop.
My chest lifted. My fingers curled. My voice cracked.
He froze above me.
“Zayn… fuck…”
I kept leaking. Body twitching. He kissed me again.
Then he moved. Pulled back. Looked at me.
“You just… fuck.”
His hands on my hips. Holding me open.
He thrust. Once. Deep.
I gasped.
Again.
His cock slammed into me. Harder now. No more teasing.
I moaned. Loud. My hole still fluttering from the first orgasm. My cock still drooling.
He was panting. Sweat falling from his neck.
“I can’t…”
“Don’t stop…”
He growled. Fucked harder.
Each thrust landed wet and thick. The slap of skin, the ache of stretch, the heat of his cock dragging across every nerve inside me. My body rocked with every stroke. He gripped my hips harder. My thighs shook around him. His rhythm deepened, got heavier. My insides opened, clamped, opened again.
He groaned into my neck. Bit it softly. Licked where he bit. Fucked deeper.
My cock bounced with every thrust. No hands. Just leaking. I couldn’t breathe right. Couldn’t hold still.
“Feel that?” he gasped.
I nodded. Couldn’t speak.
He kept going. Pushed in deep and stayed there. Rotated his hips. I cried out.
Then he pulled back and started again. Longer strokes now. Greedy. Wet.
He was louder too. Mouth open. Breathing hard through his teeth.
“You’re so warm,” he said. “So tight. I’m not gonna last.”
“Don’t stop.”
He slammed in. Grunted. Sweat dripping onto my chest. My nails dug into his back. I felt another orgasm start to build. Not in my cock. In my belly. In my spine.
He pinned me down. Fucked me through it.
My mouth opened. Sound spilled out.
He was getting close. I could feel it in how he lost rhythm. Started trembling. Pressing deeper. Grinding. Then thrusting again.
My legs shook. My toes curled. I was right there.
“Zayn… fuck… I’m gonna…”
He buried himself. Held it.
Came.
I felt it. Heat, deep inside. His cock swelled. He cried out. Kept pulsing. Kept jerking.
Still inside me.
Still pulsing.
And I let go again.
Another rush. Another shake. Another orgasm, without touching.
Our bodies sticky. Our breath ragged.
The smell of cum. Sweat. Skin.
He stayed there. Collapsed on me. Buried deep.
I didn’t let go.
Let me know if you want to hear what happened next?
As an Irish man, you can help make it a reality
Touche, good sir hahaAs an Irish man, you can help make it a reality
Cocksucker-69
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i love swallowing cumThis is based on the true story about how I met Daniel 10 odd years ago
Everyone is 18+ and everything is fully consensual.
⸻
It started with his Grindr profile.
Irish, curious.
That was all it said.
I tapped. He tapped back.
We chatted about stupid things — food, movies, the way the weather makes you want to stay in someone’s arms. He asked if I was actually Asian. I asked if he was actually curious.
He said he was just tired of girls who couldn’t take his cock.
And then he sent a picture.
Veins. Length. Thickness. Pale skin. Uncut. Heavy.
He told me no one had ever managed to deepthroat it.
He told me he’d never cum from a blowjob.
Not once.
I said, “Challenge accepted.”
We met the next day.
Café near the station. Outdoor table. He was tall, so tall, and had to duck to sit under the umbrella.
Freckles, red curls, that clean Irish jawline. Bright blue eyes that blinked a lot when he was nervous.
He smiled as he sat down. Big smile. Honest. I don’t think he had done this before, but wasn’t scared of it either.
I asked if he wanted food. He said he’d already eaten but would watch me. So I ate. And he watched.
Then we walked. Quiet at first. His arm brushed mine a few times. I didn’t move away.
He asked what it felt like, kissing a guy. I asked what he thought it felt like. He smiled again and said, “Probably better.”
Then we went to the cinema. He let me choose the film. He sat two fingers away from me the whole time. Didn’t touch me, but his knee bounced every few minutes.
I could feel the heat off him.
We didn’t speak when the movie ended. Just walked in silence to the station. I told him it was okay if nothing happened, no pressure. He nodded, eyes low.
We said goodbye.
I turned. Started walking.
Five minutes later, my phone rang.
It was him.
“Hey…”
His voice was softer now.
“I think I want to kiss you.”
A pause.
“…Do you wanna come over?”
-
His place was small, clean, warm. Fresh laundry smell and aftershave still in the air.
He didn’t kiss me at the door. Just took my bag, nodded for me to follow, and led me upstairs.
Two steps from the top, he stopped.
Then he turned around and picked me up.
Lifted me off the ground with both arms. Carried me the rest of the way like I weighed nothing. His chest against mine. His breath fast in my ear. My hands found his shoulders, and I held on.
His door opened behind me. Bedroom. Low light.
He sat on the bed with me in his lap.
His cock pressed between my thighs.
It was already getting hard.
We kissed.
God, we kissed.
Mouths soft at first, then deeper, then desperate. His hands unsure, touching my waist, then pulling back, then reaching again. His lips were warm, slightly chapped. His tongue slow, learning.
I straddled him. His cock lay heavy between my cheeks, half-hard but thick enough to make my breath catch.
I leaned back and peeled my shirt off.
He stared.
Not at my chest. At my mouth. I think he was wondering what it could do.
I reached down, pressed my palm to his crotch.
His breath stuttered but he didn’t stop me.
Still, something in his body held tension. Not hesitation — more like memory.
I kissed his neck. His jaw. Bit softly at the place below his ear that made his breath catch again.
“You okay?” I whispered.
He nodded, too fast.
I ran my hand down his chest.
“Bad experience?”
He didn’t answer, but his eyes did.
So I slowed everything down.
I slipped off his lap and kissed down his chest.
Let my tongue drag over the slope of his abs, one freckle at a time.
He lay back on the bed and watched me, eyes wide, muscles tight. His hands clenched the blanket beside him, like he didn’t know what to expect, like he didn’t want to flinch again.
I nuzzled the waistband of his shorts. Warm cotton. Damp from where his cock had started to stir.
I kissed him through the fabric.
Slowly.
Patiently.
Over and over until I felt him soften and thicken again, gently this time.
Then I pulled his shorts down.
His cock flopped free.
Thick. Uncut. Pale shaft flushed pink at the head. Blue veins standing out along the sides. Heavy against his thigh, not fully hard yet.
I didn’t rush.
I held it in my hand. Felt the heat. Kissed the base. Pressed my nose into the red hair and breathed him in.
He twitched.
I circled my tongue around the crown, teasing his foreskin back, letting my spit gather. No suction. Just warmth. Wetness. Attention.
His breath got louder.
I licked the underside, from base to tip, slow and steady.
Each time he twitched, I paused and kissed the head again, letting him know I wasn’t going anywhere.
He started to leak. Clear, thick precum. I licked it up without breaking eye contact.
That was when something changed.
His chest rose higher. His fingers let go of the sheets. His cock thickened more fully in my hand.
I wrapped my lips around the head and just stayed there.
No movement. Just heat and tongue.
A sound left his throat. Halfway between a groan and a whimper.
That was the first one.
I began to suck, slow and soft, just the tip.
My hand cupped his balls, warm and smooth. I kissed each one in turn, then licked behind them, down to where his skin grew softer. He gasped and twitched again.
“Shit…”
His thighs spread wider.
I took more of him into my mouth. Sucked deeper. Swallowed him slowly until his cock pressed against the back of my throat. I stayed there. Let him feel it.
His moan was louder this time.
Then again when I pulled back and licked the head with my tongue flattened. Again when I hollowed my cheeks and took him deeper.
His hips bucked. His voice cracked.
“Fuck… Zayn… fuck, that’s…”
He didn’t finish the sentence.
Just moaned again. Louder now. His legs shook.
He was fully hard in my throat.
And I hadn’t even stroked him.
I worked him slowly. One hand on his hip, the other stroking his perineum in circles while I bobbed my head, spit gathering at the corners of my mouth, his cock sliding in and out, wet and slick.
He was leaking constantly now. Precum dripping from his slit, coating my tongue.
I didn’t stop.
He kept moaning, kept swearing with his Irish accent , kept looking down at me with a kind of disbelief. His stomach tensed. His hands reached toward my head but hovered, unsure. Then they settled. Just held me there, gentle.
“Fuck… no one’s ever…”
He didn’t finish the sentence.
But his body did.
His hips rose, just slightly, not to thrust, but to offer.
His hand settled on the back of my head.
Not pushing. Just there.
His eyes found mine. Then closed.
That was the moment he gave in.
The tension that had lived under his skin since I met him — gone.
His thighs spread wider. His stomach lifted with every breath. His cock throbbed in my mouth, not just hard now, but alive.
He was ready.
And I wanted to ruin him. Proper!
I pulled back until just the tip sat on my tongue.
Tasted him. Savored it. The precum, the warmth, the smooth weight of his cock resting where I could feel every throb.
Then I lowered again.
Slow. Deep.
Let my lips seal around the base.
Held him there.
His moan broke open. One long, low sound that made my own cock twitch.
I started to work him properly.
Tongue first. Flattened, swirling, teasing every ridge. I kissed up the underside of his shaft again and again before swallowing him deep, letting the spit collect and drip.
Then I’d pull off. Let the air hit him. Blow cool breath across the wetness and watch his stomach jump.
He started leaking constantly.
Each drop tasted sweeter than the last. Thick, warm, syrupy. I swallowed it all.
I took my time.
After maybe ten minutes, I paused.
Let him breathe. Rest. Let my jaw unlock for a second.
He looked down at me, dazed and sweaty. Eyes glazed but wide.
“That thing you just did… under the head, with your tongue—fuck…”
I smiled, breathless. “Yeah?”
“I’ve never… felt that before. It goes all the way into my chest. It’s unreal like!”
I laughed softly, licked a drop from his slit, and kissed his hip. “Good.”
Then I started again. Slower this time. Let him feel every swirl, every inch.
He groaned right away, hips twitching. Hands flexing at his sides.
Another break. Shorter. This time, he was the one who spoke first.
“You can really take all of it?”
I nodded, lips slick, breath shallow.
He sat up slightly, propped on his elbows. His abs flexed, damp with sweat. His chest rose and fell faster now.
“I thought I was too big for that. You’re fuckin’ incredible .”
Then he reached out and brushed my hair back behind my ear. His touch was soft. Curious. He traced my cheek with the back of his fingers, then dropped his hand to my chest and pinched one nipple, slow and deliberate.
I gasped.
He smiled. “You look so fucking hot like this.”
I blushed — couldn’t help it — then dropped my mouth right back onto his cock.
All of it. One motion.
His mouth fell open and his eyes rolled back. He moaned so loud it almost echoed off the walls.
I kept going.
Changed angles. Rolled his balls in my mouth. Dipped lower to lick behind them. Massaged his perineum in slow, rhythmic circles until his hips rolled on their own.
He couldn’t stop moaning now.
Every time I swallowed him whole, he lost control. His voice cracked. His thighs tensed. His fingers trembled against the sheets.
I stayed in rhythm. Gentle but relentless. Let him live there — in the edge. In the pleasure. In the part of himself no one had ever reached before.
At one point he gasped, “I don’t know how I’m still holding it…”
And I just smiled with his cock in my throat and let my tongue tell him to keep going.
Twenty minutes passed. Then more.
His cock never flagged. His moans grew more desperate. His hands fisted the pillow. His body gleamed with sweat.
He was shaking.
Then his voice changed.
It wasn’t words anymore. Just noise. Soft pleading. Whimpers.
“Zayn… fuck… I’m gonna…”
I didn’t stop.
I sped up. Mouth tighter, deeper, wetter. My spit coated everything, glistening down to his base. My jaw ached. My throat burned.
But I didn’t stop.
His cock swelled one last time.
And then he broke.
He came hard.
The first spurt filled my throat.
Then another. And another.
Warm. Sweet. Endless.
It poured out of him. Thick and fast. So much I had to swallow again, and again, and again just to keep up.
His entire body seized — back arched, thighs locked, fists gripping the pillow so tight his knuckles turned white. His moans broke into cries, then silence, then shudders.
I stayed down until he twitched.
Then one final lick up his shaft before I let him go.
His cock dropped against his stomach. Still slick. Still twitching.
His eyes were glassy. His lips parted. His chest rose and fell like he’d run miles.
He didn’t speak for a long time.
Then finally:
“I didn’t think that was possible.”
I kissed the inside of his thigh and said, “You just needed someone who actually appreciates your cock.”
Let me know you want to hear what happened next?
What I imagineThis is based on the true story about how I met Daniel 10 odd years ago
Everyone is 18+ and everything is fully consensual.
⸻
It started with his Grindr profile.
Irish, curious.
That was all it said.
I tapped. He tapped back.
We chatted about stupid things — food, movies, the way the weather makes you want to stay in someone’s arms. He asked if I was actually Asian. I asked if he was actually curious.
He said he was just tired of girls who couldn’t take his cock.
And then he sent a picture.
Veins. Length. Thickness. Pale skin. Uncut. Heavy.
He told me no one had ever managed to deepthroat it.
He told me he’d never cum from a blowjob.
Not once.
I said, “Challenge accepted.”
We met the next day.
Café near the station. Outdoor table. He was tall, so tall, and had to duck to sit under the umbrella.
Freckles, red curls, that clean Irish jawline. Bright blue eyes that blinked a lot when he was nervous.
He smiled as he sat down. Big smile. Honest. I don’t think he had done this before, but wasn’t scared of it either.
I asked if he wanted food. He said he’d already eaten but would watch me. So I ate. And he watched.
Then we walked. Quiet at first. His arm brushed mine a few times. I didn’t move away.
He asked what it felt like, kissing a guy. I asked what he thought it felt like. He smiled again and said, “Probably better.”
Then we went to the cinema. He let me choose the film. He sat two fingers away from me the whole time. Didn’t touch me, but his knee bounced every few minutes.
I could feel the heat off him.
We didn’t speak when the movie ended. Just walked in silence to the station. I told him it was okay if nothing happened, no pressure. He nodded, eyes low.
We said goodbye.
I turned. Started walking.
Five minutes later, my phone rang.
It was him.
“Hey…”
His voice was softer now.
“I think I want to kiss you.”
A pause.
“…Do you wanna come over?”
-
His place was small, clean, warm. Fresh laundry smell and aftershave still in the air.
He didn’t kiss me at the door. Just took my bag, nodded for me to follow, and led me upstairs.
Two steps from the top, he stopped.
Then he turned around and picked me up.
Lifted me off the ground with both arms. Carried me the rest of the way like I weighed nothing. His chest against mine. His breath fast in my ear. My hands found his shoulders, and I held on.
His door opened behind me. Bedroom. Low light.
He sat on the bed with me in his lap.
His cock pressed between my thighs.
It was already getting hard.
We kissed.
God, we kissed.
Mouths soft at first, then deeper, then desperate. His hands unsure, touching my waist, then pulling back, then reaching again. His lips were warm, slightly chapped. His tongue slow, learning.
I straddled him. His cock lay heavy between my cheeks, half-hard but thick enough to make my breath catch.
I leaned back and peeled my shirt off.
He stared.
Not at my chest. At my mouth. I think he was wondering what it could do.
I reached down, pressed my palm to his crotch.
His breath stuttered but he didn’t stop me.
Still, something in his body held tension. Not hesitation — more like memory.
I kissed his neck. His jaw. Bit softly at the place below his ear that made his breath catch again.
“You okay?” I whispered.
He nodded, too fast.
I ran my hand down his chest.
“Bad experience?”
He didn’t answer, but his eyes did.
So I slowed everything down.
I slipped off his lap and kissed down his chest.
Let my tongue drag over the slope of his abs, one freckle at a time.
He lay back on the bed and watched me, eyes wide, muscles tight. His hands clenched the blanket beside him, like he didn’t know what to expect, like he didn’t want to flinch again.
I nuzzled the waistband of his shorts. Warm cotton. Damp from where his cock had started to stir.
I kissed him through the fabric.
Slowly.
Patiently.
Over and over until I felt him soften and thicken again, gently this time.
Then I pulled his shorts down.
His cock flopped free.
Thick. Uncut. Pale shaft flushed pink at the head. Blue veins standing out along the sides. Heavy against his thigh, not fully hard yet.
I didn’t rush.
I held it in my hand. Felt the heat. Kissed the base. Pressed my nose into the red hair and breathed him in.
He twitched.
I circled my tongue around the crown, teasing his foreskin back, letting my spit gather. No suction. Just warmth. Wetness. Attention.
His breath got louder.
I licked the underside, from base to tip, slow and steady.
Each time he twitched, I paused and kissed the head again, letting him know I wasn’t going anywhere.
He started to leak. Clear, thick precum. I licked it up without breaking eye contact.
That was when something changed.
His chest rose higher. His fingers let go of the sheets. His cock thickened more fully in my hand.
I wrapped my lips around the head and just stayed there.
No movement. Just heat and tongue.
A sound left his throat. Halfway between a groan and a whimper.
That was the first one.
I began to suck, slow and soft, just the tip.
My hand cupped his balls, warm and smooth. I kissed each one in turn, then licked behind them, down to where his skin grew softer. He gasped and twitched again.
“Shit…”
His thighs spread wider.
I took more of him into my mouth. Sucked deeper. Swallowed him slowly until his cock pressed against the back of my throat. I stayed there. Let him feel it.
His moan was louder this time.
Then again when I pulled back and licked the head with my tongue flattened. Again when I hollowed my cheeks and took him deeper.
His hips bucked. His voice cracked.
“Fuck… Zayn… fuck, that’s…”
He didn’t finish the sentence.
Just moaned again. Louder now. His legs shook.
He was fully hard in my throat.
And I hadn’t even stroked him.
I worked him slowly. One hand on his hip, the other stroking his perineum in circles while I bobbed my head, spit gathering at the corners of my mouth, his cock sliding in and out, wet and slick.
He was leaking constantly now. Precum dripping from his slit, coating my tongue.
I didn’t stop.
He kept moaning, kept swearing with his Irish accent , kept looking down at me with a kind of disbelief. His stomach tensed. His hands reached toward my head but hovered, unsure. Then they settled. Just held me there, gentle.
“Fuck… no one’s ever…”
He didn’t finish the sentence.
But his body did.
His hips rose, just slightly, not to thrust, but to offer.
His hand settled on the back of my head.
Not pushing. Just there.
His eyes found mine. Then closed.
That was the moment he gave in.
The tension that had lived under his skin since I met him — gone.
His thighs spread wider. His stomach lifted with every breath. His cock throbbed in my mouth, not just hard now, but alive.
He was ready.
And I wanted to ruin him. Proper!
I pulled back until just the tip sat on my tongue.
Tasted him. Savored it. The precum, the warmth, the smooth weight of his cock resting where I could feel every throb.
Then I lowered again.
Slow. Deep.
Let my lips seal around the base.
Held him there.
His moan broke open. One long, low sound that made my own cock twitch.
I started to work him properly.
Tongue first. Flattened, swirling, teasing every ridge. I kissed up the underside of his shaft again and again before swallowing him deep, letting the spit collect and drip.
Then I’d pull off. Let the air hit him. Blow cool breath across the wetness and watch his stomach jump.
He started leaking constantly.
Each drop tasted sweeter than the last. Thick, warm, syrupy. I swallowed it all.
I took my time.
After maybe ten minutes, I paused.
Let him breathe. Rest. Let my jaw unlock for a second.
He looked down at me, dazed and sweaty. Eyes glazed but wide.
“That thing you just did… under the head, with your tongue—fuck…”
I smiled, breathless. “Yeah?”
“I’ve never… felt that before. It goes all the way into my chest. It’s unreal like!”
I laughed softly, licked a drop from his slit, and kissed his hip. “Good.”
Then I started again. Slower this time. Let him feel every swirl, every inch.
He groaned right away, hips twitching. Hands flexing at his sides.
Another break. Shorter. This time, he was the one who spoke first.
“You can really take all of it?”
I nodded, lips slick, breath shallow.
He sat up slightly, propped on his elbows. His abs flexed, damp with sweat. His chest rose and fell faster now.
“I thought I was too big for that. You’re fuckin’ incredible .”
Then he reached out and brushed my hair back behind my ear. His touch was soft. Curious. He traced my cheek with the back of his fingers, then dropped his hand to my chest and pinched one nipple, slow and deliberate.
I gasped.
He smiled. “You look so fucking hot like this.”
I blushed — couldn’t help it — then dropped my mouth right back onto his cock.
All of it. One motion.
His mouth fell open and his eyes rolled back. He moaned so loud it almost echoed off the walls.
I kept going.
Changed angles. Rolled his balls in my mouth. Dipped lower to lick behind them. Massaged his perineum in slow, rhythmic circles until his hips rolled on their own.
He couldn’t stop moaning now.
Every time I swallowed him whole, he lost control. His voice cracked. His thighs tensed. His fingers trembled against the sheets.
I stayed in rhythm. Gentle but relentless. Let him live there — in the edge. In the pleasure. In the part of himself no one had ever reached before.
At one point he gasped, “I don’t know how I’m still holding it…”
And I just smiled with his cock in my throat and let my tongue tell him to keep going.
Twenty minutes passed. Then more.
His cock never flagged. His moans grew more desperate. His hands fisted the pillow. His body gleamed with sweat.
He was shaking.
Then his voice changed.
It wasn’t words anymore. Just noise. Soft pleading. Whimpers.
“Zayn… fuck… I’m gonna…”
I didn’t stop.
I sped up. Mouth tighter, deeper, wetter. My spit coated everything, glistening down to his base. My jaw ached. My throat burned.
But I didn’t stop.
His cock swelled one last time.
And then he broke.
He came hard.
The first spurt filled my throat.
Then another. And another.
Warm. Sweet. Endless.
It poured out of him. Thick and fast. So much I had to swallow again, and again, and again just to keep up.
His entire body seized — back arched, thighs locked, fists gripping the pillow so tight his knuckles turned white. His moans broke into cries, then silence, then shudders.
I stayed down until he twitched.
Then one final lick up his shaft before I let him go.
His cock dropped against his stomach. Still slick. Still twitching.
His eyes were glassy. His lips parted. His chest rose and fell like he’d run miles.
He didn’t speak for a long time.
Then finally:
“I didn’t think that was possible.”
I kissed the inside of his thigh and said, “You just needed someone who actually appreciates your cock.”
Let me know you want to hear what happened next?
Tim1990Mai
Sexy Member
This is based on the true story about how I met Daniel 10 odd years ago
Everyone is 18+ and everything is fully consensual.
⸻
It started with his Grindr profile.
Irish, curious.
That was all it said.
I tapped. He tapped back.
We chatted about stupid things — food, movies, the way the weather makes you want to stay in someone’s arms. He asked if I was actually Asian. I asked if he was actually curious.
He said he was just tired of girls who couldn’t take his cock.
And then he sent a picture.
Veins. Length. Thickness. Pale skin. Uncut. Heavy.
He told me no one had ever managed to deepthroat it.
He told me he’d never cum from a blowjob.
Not once.
I said, “Challenge accepted.”
We met the next day.
Café near the station. Outdoor table. He was tall, so tall, and had to duck to sit under the umbrella.
Freckles, red curls, that clean Irish jawline. Bright blue eyes that blinked a lot when he was nervous.
He smiled as he sat down. Big smile. Honest. I don’t think he had done this before, but wasn’t scared of it either.
I asked if he wanted food. He said he’d already eaten but would watch me. So I ate. And he watched.
Then we walked. Quiet at first. His arm brushed mine a few times. I didn’t move away.
He asked what it felt like, kissing a guy. I asked what he thought it felt like. He smiled again and said, “Probably better.”
Then we went to the cinema. He let me choose the film. He sat two fingers away from me the whole time. Didn’t touch me, but his knee bounced every few minutes.
I could feel the heat off him.
We didn’t speak when the movie ended. Just walked in silence to the station. I told him it was okay if nothing happened, no pressure. He nodded, eyes low.
We said goodbye.
I turned. Started walking.
Five minutes later, my phone rang.
It was him.
“Hey…”
His voice was softer now.
“I think I want to kiss you.”
A pause.
“…Do you wanna come over?”
-
His place was small, clean, warm. Fresh laundry smell and aftershave still in the air.
He didn’t kiss me at the door. Just took my bag, nodded for me to follow, and led me upstairs.
Two steps from the top, he stopped.
Then he turned around and picked me up.
Lifted me off the ground with both arms. Carried me the rest of the way like I weighed nothing. His chest against mine. His breath fast in my ear. My hands found his shoulders, and I held on.
His door opened behind me. Bedroom. Low light.
He sat on the bed with me in his lap.
His cock pressed between my thighs.
It was already getting hard.
We kissed.
God, we kissed.
Mouths soft at first, then deeper, then desperate. His hands unsure, touching my waist, then pulling back, then reaching again. His lips were warm, slightly chapped. His tongue slow, learning.
I straddled him. His cock lay heavy between my cheeks, half-hard but thick enough to make my breath catch.
I leaned back and peeled my shirt off.
He stared.
Not at my chest. At my mouth. I think he was wondering what it could do.
I reached down, pressed my palm to his crotch.
His breath stuttered but he didn’t stop me.
Still, something in his body held tension. Not hesitation — more like memory.
I kissed his neck. His jaw. Bit softly at the place below his ear that made his breath catch again.
“You okay?” I whispered.
He nodded, too fast.
I ran my hand down his chest.
“Bad experience?”
He didn’t answer, but his eyes did.
So I slowed everything down.
I slipped off his lap and kissed down his chest.
Let my tongue drag over the slope of his abs, one freckle at a time.
He lay back on the bed and watched me, eyes wide, muscles tight. His hands clenched the blanket beside him, like he didn’t know what to expect, like he didn’t want to flinch again.
I nuzzled the waistband of his shorts. Warm cotton. Damp from where his cock had started to stir.
I kissed him through the fabric.
Slowly.
Patiently.
Over and over until I felt him soften and thicken again, gently this time.
Then I pulled his shorts down.
His cock flopped free.
Thick. Uncut. Pale shaft flushed pink at the head. Blue veins standing out along the sides. Heavy against his thigh, not fully hard yet.
I didn’t rush.
I held it in my hand. Felt the heat. Kissed the base. Pressed my nose into the red hair and breathed him in.
He twitched.
I circled my tongue around the crown, teasing his foreskin back, letting my spit gather. No suction. Just warmth. Wetness. Attention.
His breath got louder.
I licked the underside, from base to tip, slow and steady.
Each time he twitched, I paused and kissed the head again, letting him know I wasn’t going anywhere.
He started to leak. Clear, thick precum. I licked it up without breaking eye contact.
That was when something changed.
His chest rose higher. His fingers let go of the sheets. His cock thickened more fully in my hand.
I wrapped my lips around the head and just stayed there.
No movement. Just heat and tongue.
A sound left his throat. Halfway between a groan and a whimper.
That was the first one.
I began to suck, slow and soft, just the tip.
My hand cupped his balls, warm and smooth. I kissed each one in turn, then licked behind them, down to where his skin grew softer. He gasped and twitched again.
“Shit…”
His thighs spread wider.
I took more of him into my mouth. Sucked deeper. Swallowed him slowly until his cock pressed against the back of my throat. I stayed there. Let him feel it.
His moan was louder this time.
Then again when I pulled back and licked the head with my tongue flattened. Again when I hollowed my cheeks and took him deeper.
His hips bucked. His voice cracked.
“Fuck… Zayn… fuck, that’s…”
He didn’t finish the sentence.
Just moaned again. Louder now. His legs shook.
He was fully hard in my throat.
And I hadn’t even stroked him.
I worked him slowly. One hand on his hip, the other stroking his perineum in circles while I bobbed my head, spit gathering at the corners of my mouth, his cock sliding in and out, wet and slick.
He was leaking constantly now. Precum dripping from his slit, coating my tongue.
I didn’t stop.
He kept moaning, kept swearing with his Irish accent , kept looking down at me with a kind of disbelief. His stomach tensed. His hands reached toward my head but hovered, unsure. Then they settled. Just held me there, gentle.
“Fuck… no one’s ever…”
He didn’t finish the sentence.
But his body did.
His hips rose, just slightly, not to thrust, but to offer.
His hand settled on the back of my head.
Not pushing. Just there.
His eyes found mine. Then closed.
That was the moment he gave in.
The tension that had lived under his skin since I met him — gone.
His thighs spread wider. His stomach lifted with every breath. His cock throbbed in my mouth, not just hard now, but alive.
He was ready.
And I wanted to ruin him. Proper!
I pulled back until just the tip sat on my tongue.
Tasted him. Savored it. The precum, the warmth, the smooth weight of his cock resting where I could feel every throb.
Then I lowered again.
Slow. Deep.
Let my lips seal around the base.
Held him there.
His moan broke open. One long, low sound that made my own cock twitch.
I started to work him properly.
Tongue first. Flattened, swirling, teasing every ridge. I kissed up the underside of his shaft again and again before swallowing him deep, letting the spit collect and drip.
Then I’d pull off. Let the air hit him. Blow cool breath across the wetness and watch his stomach jump.
He started leaking constantly.
Each drop tasted sweeter than the last. Thick, warm, syrupy. I swallowed it all.
I took my time.
After maybe ten minutes, I paused.
Let him breathe. Rest. Let my jaw unlock for a second.
He looked down at me, dazed and sweaty. Eyes glazed but wide.
“That thing you just did… under the head, with your tongue—fuck…”
I smiled, breathless. “Yeah?”
“I’ve never… felt that before. It goes all the way into my chest. It’s unreal like!”
I laughed softly, licked a drop from his slit, and kissed his hip. “Good.”
Then I started again. Slower this time. Let him feel every swirl, every inch.
He groaned right away, hips twitching. Hands flexing at his sides.
Another break. Shorter. This time, he was the one who spoke first.
“You can really take all of it?”
I nodded, lips slick, breath shallow.
He sat up slightly, propped on his elbows. His abs flexed, damp with sweat. His chest rose and fell faster now.
“I thought I was too big for that. You’re fuckin’ incredible .”
Then he reached out and brushed my hair back behind my ear. His touch was soft. Curious. He traced my cheek with the back of his fingers, then dropped his hand to my chest and pinched one nipple, slow and deliberate.
I gasped.
He smiled. “You look so fucking hot like this.”
I blushed — couldn’t help it — then dropped my mouth right back onto his cock.
All of it. One motion.
His mouth fell open and his eyes rolled back. He moaned so loud it almost echoed off the walls.
I kept going.
Changed angles. Rolled his balls in my mouth. Dipped lower to lick behind them. Massaged his perineum in slow, rhythmic circles until his hips rolled on their own.
He couldn’t stop moaning now.
Every time I swallowed him whole, he lost control. His voice cracked. His thighs tensed. His fingers trembled against the sheets.
I stayed in rhythm. Gentle but relentless. Let him live there — in the edge. In the pleasure. In the part of himself no one had ever reached before.
At one point he gasped, “I don’t know how I’m still holding it…”
And I just smiled with his cock in my throat and let my tongue tell him to keep going.
Twenty minutes passed. Then more.
His cock never flagged. His moans grew more desperate. His hands fisted the pillow. His body gleamed with sweat.
He was shaking.
Then his voice changed.
It wasn’t words anymore. Just noise. Soft pleading. Whimpers.
“Zayn… fuck… I’m gonna…”
I didn’t stop.
I sped up. Mouth tighter, deeper, wetter. My spit coated everything, glistening down to his base. My jaw ached. My throat burned.
But I didn’t stop.
His cock swelled one last time.
And then he broke.
He came hard.
The first spurt filled my throat.
Then another. And another.
Warm. Sweet. Endless.
It poured out of him. Thick and fast. So much I had to swallow again, and again, and again just to keep up.
His entire body seized — back arched, thighs locked, fists gripping the pillow so tight his knuckles turned white. His moans broke into cries, then silence, then shudders.
I stayed down until he twitched.
Then one final lick up his shaft before I let him go.
His cock dropped against his stomach. Still slick. Still twitching.
His eyes were glassy. His lips parted. His chest rose and fell like he’d run miles.
He didn’t speak for a long time.
Then finally:
“I didn’t think that was possible.”
I kissed the inside of his thigh and said, “You just needed someone who actually appreciates your cock.”
Let me know you want to hear what happened next?
Awesome writing! And if that's how you suck... well, any man would be lucky to get your attention!
I did this at the end of July with a 19yo Scottish guy who was visiting the states with his family. I've been debating writing about it and posting here. I've had my fair share of experiences but I've been replaying that one in my head a lot.
AmazingThis is based on the true story about how I met Daniel 10 odd years ago
Everyone is 18+ and everything is fully consensual.
⸻
It started with his Grindr profile.
Irish, curious.
That was all it said.
I tapped. He tapped back.
We chatted about stupid things — food, movies, the way the weather makes you want to stay in someone’s arms. He asked if I was actually Asian. I asked if he was actually curious.
He said he was just tired of girls who couldn’t take his cock.
And then he sent a picture.
Veins. Length. Thickness. Pale skin. Uncut. Heavy.
He told me no one had ever managed to deepthroat it.
He told me he’d never cum from a blowjob.
Not once.
I said, “Challenge accepted.”
We met the next day.
Café near the station. Outdoor table. He was tall, so tall, and had to duck to sit under the umbrella.
Freckles, red curls, that clean Irish jawline. Bright blue eyes that blinked a lot when he was nervous.
He smiled as he sat down. Big smile. Honest. I don’t think he had done this before, but wasn’t scared of it either.
I asked if he wanted food. He said he’d already eaten but would watch me. So I ate. And he watched.
Then we walked. Quiet at first. His arm brushed mine a few times. I didn’t move away.
He asked what it felt like, kissing a guy. I asked what he thought it felt like. He smiled again and said, “Probably better.”
Then we went to the cinema. He let me choose the film. He sat two fingers away from me the whole time. Didn’t touch me, but his knee bounced every few minutes.
I could feel the heat off him.
We didn’t speak when the movie ended. Just walked in silence to the station. I told him it was okay if nothing happened, no pressure. He nodded, eyes low.
We said goodbye.
I turned. Started walking.
Five minutes later, my phone rang.
It was him.
“Hey…”
His voice was softer now.
“I think I want to kiss you.”
A pause.
“…Do you wanna come over?”
-
His place was small, clean, warm. Fresh laundry smell and aftershave still in the air.
He didn’t kiss me at the door. Just took my bag, nodded for me to follow, and led me upstairs.
Two steps from the top, he stopped.
Then he turned around and picked me up.
Lifted me off the ground with both arms. Carried me the rest of the way like I weighed nothing. His chest against mine. His breath fast in my ear. My hands found his shoulders, and I held on.
His door opened behind me. Bedroom. Low light.
He sat on the bed with me in his lap.
His cock pressed between my thighs.
It was already getting hard.
We kissed.
God, we kissed.
Mouths soft at first, then deeper, then desperate. His hands unsure, touching my waist, then pulling back, then reaching again. His lips were warm, slightly chapped. His tongue slow, learning.
I straddled him. His cock lay heavy between my cheeks, half-hard but thick enough to make my breath catch.
I leaned back and peeled my shirt off.
He stared.
Not at my chest. At my mouth. I think he was wondering what it could do.
I reached down, pressed my palm to his crotch.
His breath stuttered but he didn’t stop me.
Still, something in his body held tension. Not hesitation — more like memory.
I kissed his neck. His jaw. Bit softly at the place below his ear that made his breath catch again.
“You okay?” I whispered.
He nodded, too fast.
I ran my hand down his chest.
“Bad experience?”
He didn’t answer, but his eyes did.
So I slowed everything down.
I slipped off his lap and kissed down his chest.
Let my tongue drag over the slope of his abs, one freckle at a time.
He lay back on the bed and watched me, eyes wide, muscles tight. His hands clenched the blanket beside him, like he didn’t know what to expect, like he didn’t want to flinch again.
I nuzzled the waistband of his shorts. Warm cotton. Damp from where his cock had started to stir.
I kissed him through the fabric.
Slowly.
Patiently.
Over and over until I felt him soften and thicken again, gently this time.
Then I pulled his shorts down.
His cock flopped free.
Thick. Uncut. Pale shaft flushed pink at the head. Blue veins standing out along the sides. Heavy against his thigh, not fully hard yet.
I didn’t rush.
I held it in my hand. Felt the heat. Kissed the base. Pressed my nose into the red hair and breathed him in.
He twitched.
I circled my tongue around the crown, teasing his foreskin back, letting my spit gather. No suction. Just warmth. Wetness. Attention.
His breath got louder.
I licked the underside, from base to tip, slow and steady.
Each time he twitched, I paused and kissed the head again, letting him know I wasn’t going anywhere.
He started to leak. Clear, thick precum. I licked it up without breaking eye contact.
That was when something changed.
His chest rose higher. His fingers let go of the sheets. His cock thickened more fully in my hand.
I wrapped my lips around the head and just stayed there.
No movement. Just heat and tongue.
A sound left his throat. Halfway between a groan and a whimper.
That was the first one.
I began to suck, slow and soft, just the tip.
My hand cupped his balls, warm and smooth. I kissed each one in turn, then licked behind them, down to where his skin grew softer. He gasped and twitched again.
“Shit…”
His thighs spread wider.
I took more of him into my mouth. Sucked deeper. Swallowed him slowly until his cock pressed against the back of my throat. I stayed there. Let him feel it.
His moan was louder this time.
Then again when I pulled back and licked the head with my tongue flattened. Again when I hollowed my cheeks and took him deeper.
His hips bucked. His voice cracked.
“Fuck… Zayn… fuck, that’s…”
He didn’t finish the sentence.
Just moaned again. Louder now. His legs shook.
He was fully hard in my throat.
And I hadn’t even stroked him.
I worked him slowly. One hand on his hip, the other stroking his perineum in circles while I bobbed my head, spit gathering at the corners of my mouth, his cock sliding in and out, wet and slick.
He was leaking constantly now. Precum dripping from his slit, coating my tongue.
I didn’t stop.
He kept moaning, kept swearing with his Irish accent , kept looking down at me with a kind of disbelief. His stomach tensed. His hands reached toward my head but hovered, unsure. Then they settled. Just held me there, gentle.
“Fuck… no one’s ever…”
He didn’t finish the sentence.
But his body did.
His hips rose, just slightly, not to thrust, but to offer.
His hand settled on the back of my head.
Not pushing. Just there.
His eyes found mine. Then closed.
That was the moment he gave in.
The tension that had lived under his skin since I met him — gone.
His thighs spread wider. His stomach lifted with every breath. His cock throbbed in my mouth, not just hard now, but alive.
He was ready.
And I wanted to ruin him. Proper!
I pulled back until just the tip sat on my tongue.
Tasted him. Savored it. The precum, the warmth, the smooth weight of his cock resting where I could feel every throb.
Then I lowered again.
Slow. Deep.
Let my lips seal around the base.
Held him there.
His moan broke open. One long, low sound that made my own cock twitch.
I started to work him properly.
Tongue first. Flattened, swirling, teasing every ridge. I kissed up the underside of his shaft again and again before swallowing him deep, letting the spit collect and drip.
Then I’d pull off. Let the air hit him. Blow cool breath across the wetness and watch his stomach jump.
He started leaking constantly.
Each drop tasted sweeter than the last. Thick, warm, syrupy. I swallowed it all.
I took my time.
After maybe ten minutes, I paused.
Let him breathe. Rest. Let my jaw unlock for a second.
He looked down at me, dazed and sweaty. Eyes glazed but wide.
“That thing you just did… under the head, with your tongue—fuck…”
I smiled, breathless. “Yeah?”
“I’ve never… felt that before. It goes all the way into my chest. It’s unreal like!”
I laughed softly, licked a drop from his slit, and kissed his hip. “Good.”
Then I started again. Slower this time. Let him feel every swirl, every inch.
He groaned right away, hips twitching. Hands flexing at his sides.
Another break. Shorter. This time, he was the one who spoke first.
“You can really take all of it?”
I nodded, lips slick, breath shallow.
He sat up slightly, propped on his elbows. His abs flexed, damp with sweat. His chest rose and fell faster now.
“I thought I was too big for that. You’re fuckin’ incredible .”
Then he reached out and brushed my hair back behind my ear. His touch was soft. Curious. He traced my cheek with the back of his fingers, then dropped his hand to my chest and pinched one nipple, slow and deliberate.
I gasped.
He smiled. “You look so fucking hot like this.”
I blushed — couldn’t help it — then dropped my mouth right back onto his cock.
All of it. One motion.
His mouth fell open and his eyes rolled back. He moaned so loud it almost echoed off the walls.
I kept going.
Changed angles. Rolled his balls in my mouth. Dipped lower to lick behind them. Massaged his perineum in slow, rhythmic circles until his hips rolled on their own.
He couldn’t stop moaning now.
Every time I swallowed him whole, he lost control. His voice cracked. His thighs tensed. His fingers trembled against the sheets.
I stayed in rhythm. Gentle but relentless. Let him live there — in the edge. In the pleasure. In the part of himself no one had ever reached before.
At one point he gasped, “I don’t know how I’m still holding it…”
And I just smiled with his cock in my throat and let my tongue tell him to keep going.
Twenty minutes passed. Then more.
His cock never flagged. His moans grew more desperate. His hands fisted the pillow. His body gleamed with sweat.
He was shaking.
Then his voice changed.
It wasn’t words anymore. Just noise. Soft pleading. Whimpers.
“Zayn… fuck… I’m gonna…”
I didn’t stop.
I sped up. Mouth tighter, deeper, wetter. My spit coated everything, glistening down to his base. My jaw ached. My throat burned.
But I didn’t stop.
His cock swelled one last time.
And then he broke.
He came hard.
The first spurt filled my throat.
Then another. And another.
Warm. Sweet. Endless.
It poured out of him. Thick and fast. So much I had to swallow again, and again, and again just to keep up.
His entire body seized — back arched, thighs locked, fists gripping the pillow so tight his knuckles turned white. His moans broke into cries, then silence, then shudders.
I stayed down until he twitched.
Then one final lick up his shaft before I let him go.
His cock dropped against his stomach. Still slick. Still twitching.
His eyes were glassy. His lips parted. His chest rose and fell like he’d run miles.
He didn’t speak for a long time.
Then finally:
“I didn’t think that was possible.”
I kissed the inside of his thigh and said, “You just needed someone who actually appreciates your cock.”
Let me know you want to hear what happened next?
Letmeworshipit
Admired Member
- Joined
- Feb 5, 2023
- Posts
- 392
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- 0
- Likes
- 767
- Points
- 138
- Location
- Poulsbo, WA
- Sexuality
- 99% Gay, 1% Straight
- Gender
- Male
My first partner was an Irish Catholic guy from Westchester I met in a bar in Manhattan. He was also the first true hypersexual oral top I had ever met which meant we were perfectly matched. Irish guys from my experience tend to have a high level of sexual energy. They love sex. Thankfully.This is based on the true story about how I met Daniel 10 odd years ago
Everyone is 18+ and everything is fully consensual.
⸻
It started with his Grindr profile.
Irish, curious.
That was all it said.
I tapped. He tapped back.
We chatted about stupid things — food, movies, the way the weather makes you want to stay in someone’s arms. He asked if I was actually Asian. I asked if he was actually curious.
He said he was just tired of girls who couldn’t take his cock.
And then he sent a picture.
Veins. Length. Thickness. Pale skin. Uncut. Heavy.
He told me no one had ever managed to deepthroat it.
He told me he’d never cum from a blowjob.
Not once.
I said, “Challenge accepted.”
We met the next day.
Café near the station. Outdoor table. He was tall, so tall, and had to duck to sit under the umbrella.
Freckles, red curls, that clean Irish jawline. Bright blue eyes that blinked a lot when he was nervous.
He smiled as he sat down. Big smile. Honest. I don’t think he had done this before, but wasn’t scared of it either.
I asked if he wanted food. He said he’d already eaten but would watch me. So I ate. And he watched.
Then we walked. Quiet at first. His arm brushed mine a few times. I didn’t move away.
He asked what it felt like, kissing a guy. I asked what he thought it felt like. He smiled again and said, “Probably better.”
Then we went to the cinema. He let me choose the film. He sat two fingers away from me the whole time. Didn’t touch me, but his knee bounced every few minutes.
I could feel the heat off him.
We didn’t speak when the movie ended. Just walked in silence to the station. I told him it was okay if nothing happened, no pressure. He nodded, eyes low.
We said goodbye.
I turned. Started walking.
Five minutes later, my phone rang.
It was him.
“Hey…”
His voice was softer now.
“I think I want to kiss you.”
A pause.
“…Do you wanna come over?”
-
His place was small, clean, warm. Fresh laundry smell and aftershave still in the air.
He didn’t kiss me at the door. Just took my bag, nodded for me to follow, and led me upstairs.
Two steps from the top, he stopped.
Then he turned around and picked me up.
Lifted me off the ground with both arms. Carried me the rest of the way like I weighed nothing. His chest against mine. His breath fast in my ear. My hands found his shoulders, and I held on.
His door opened behind me. Bedroom. Low light.
He sat on the bed with me in his lap.
His cock pressed between my thighs.
It was already getting hard.
We kissed.
God, we kissed.
Mouths soft at first, then deeper, then desperate. His hands unsure, touching my waist, then pulling back, then reaching again. His lips were warm, slightly chapped. His tongue slow, learning.
I straddled him. His cock lay heavy between my cheeks, half-hard but thick enough to make my breath catch.
I leaned back and peeled my shirt off.
He stared.
Not at my chest. At my mouth. I think he was wondering what it could do.
I reached down, pressed my palm to his crotch.
His breath stuttered but he didn’t stop me.
Still, something in his body held tension. Not hesitation — more like memory.
I kissed his neck. His jaw. Bit softly at the place below his ear that made his breath catch again.
“You okay?” I whispered.
He nodded, too fast.
I ran my hand down his chest.
“Bad experience?”
He didn’t answer, but his eyes did.
So I slowed everything down.
I slipped off his lap and kissed down his chest.
Let my tongue drag over the slope of his abs, one freckle at a time.
He lay back on the bed and watched me, eyes wide, muscles tight. His hands clenched the blanket beside him, like he didn’t know what to expect, like he didn’t want to flinch again.
I nuzzled the waistband of his shorts. Warm cotton. Damp from where his cock had started to stir.
I kissed him through the fabric.
Slowly.
Patiently.
Over and over until I felt him soften and thicken again, gently this time.
Then I pulled his shorts down.
His cock flopped free.
Thick. Uncut. Pale shaft flushed pink at the head. Blue veins standing out along the sides. Heavy against his thigh, not fully hard yet.
I didn’t rush.
I held it in my hand. Felt the heat. Kissed the base. Pressed my nose into the red hair and breathed him in.
He twitched.
I circled my tongue around the crown, teasing his foreskin back, letting my spit gather. No suction. Just warmth. Wetness. Attention.
His breath got louder.
I licked the underside, from base to tip, slow and steady.
Each time he twitched, I paused and kissed the head again, letting him know I wasn’t going anywhere.
He started to leak. Clear, thick precum. I licked it up without breaking eye contact.
That was when something changed.
His chest rose higher. His fingers let go of the sheets. His cock thickened more fully in my hand.
I wrapped my lips around the head and just stayed there.
No movement. Just heat and tongue.
A sound left his throat. Halfway between a groan and a whimper.
That was the first one.
I began to suck, slow and soft, just the tip.
My hand cupped his balls, warm and smooth. I kissed each one in turn, then licked behind them, down to where his skin grew softer. He gasped and twitched again.
“Shit…”
His thighs spread wider.
I took more of him into my mouth. Sucked deeper. Swallowed him slowly until his cock pressed against the back of my throat. I stayed there. Let him feel it.
His moan was louder this time.
Then again when I pulled back and licked the head with my tongue flattened. Again when I hollowed my cheeks and took him deeper.
His hips bucked. His voice cracked.
“Fuck… Zayn… fuck, that’s…”
He didn’t finish the sentence.
Just moaned again. Louder now. His legs shook.
He was fully hard in my throat.
And I hadn’t even stroked him.
I worked him slowly. One hand on his hip, the other stroking his perineum in circles while I bobbed my head, spit gathering at the corners of my mouth, his cock sliding in and out, wet and slick.
He was leaking constantly now. Precum dripping from his slit, coating my tongue.
I didn’t stop.
He kept moaning, kept swearing with his Irish accent , kept looking down at me with a kind of disbelief. His stomach tensed. His hands reached toward my head but hovered, unsure. Then they settled. Just held me there, gentle.
“Fuck… no one’s ever…”
He didn’t finish the sentence.
But his body did.
His hips rose, just slightly, not to thrust, but to offer.
His hand settled on the back of my head.
Not pushing. Just there.
His eyes found mine. Then closed.
That was the moment he gave in.
The tension that had lived under his skin since I met him — gone.
His thighs spread wider. His stomach lifted with every breath. His cock throbbed in my mouth, not just hard now, but alive.
He was ready.
And I wanted to ruin him. Proper!
I pulled back until just the tip sat on my tongue.
Tasted him. Savored it. The precum, the warmth, the smooth weight of his cock resting where I could feel every throb.
Then I lowered again.
Slow. Deep.
Let my lips seal around the base.
Held him there.
His moan broke open. One long, low sound that made my own cock twitch.
I started to work him properly.
Tongue first. Flattened, swirling, teasing every ridge. I kissed up the underside of his shaft again and again before swallowing him deep, letting the spit collect and drip.
Then I’d pull off. Let the air hit him. Blow cool breath across the wetness and watch his stomach jump.
He started leaking constantly.
Each drop tasted sweeter than the last. Thick, warm, syrupy. I swallowed it all.
I took my time.
After maybe ten minutes, I paused.
Let him breathe. Rest. Let my jaw unlock for a second.
He looked down at me, dazed and sweaty. Eyes glazed but wide.
“That thing you just did… under the head, with your tongue—fuck…”
I smiled, breathless. “Yeah?”
“I’ve never… felt that before. It goes all the way into my chest. It’s unreal like!”
I laughed softly, licked a drop from his slit, and kissed his hip. “Good.”
Then I started again. Slower this time. Let him feel every swirl, every inch.
He groaned right away, hips twitching. Hands flexing at his sides.
Another break. Shorter. This time, he was the one who spoke first.
“You can really take all of it?”
I nodded, lips slick, breath shallow.
He sat up slightly, propped on his elbows. His abs flexed, damp with sweat. His chest rose and fell faster now.
“I thought I was too big for that. You’re fuckin’ incredible .”
Then he reached out and brushed my hair back behind my ear. His touch was soft. Curious. He traced my cheek with the back of his fingers, then dropped his hand to my chest and pinched one nipple, slow and deliberate.
I gasped.
He smiled. “You look so fucking hot like this.”
I blushed — couldn’t help it — then dropped my mouth right back onto his cock.
All of it. One motion.
His mouth fell open and his eyes rolled back. He moaned so loud it almost echoed off the walls.
I kept going.
Changed angles. Rolled his balls in my mouth. Dipped lower to lick behind them. Massaged his perineum in slow, rhythmic circles until his hips rolled on their own.
He couldn’t stop moaning now.
Every time I swallowed him whole, he lost control. His voice cracked. His thighs tensed. His fingers trembled against the sheets.
I stayed in rhythm. Gentle but relentless. Let him live there — in the edge. In the pleasure. In the part of himself no one had ever reached before.
At one point he gasped, “I don’t know how I’m still holding it…”
And I just smiled with his cock in my throat and let my tongue tell him to keep going.
Twenty minutes passed. Then more.
His cock never flagged. His moans grew more desperate. His hands fisted the pillow. His body gleamed with sweat.
He was shaking.
Then his voice changed.
It wasn’t words anymore. Just noise. Soft pleading. Whimpers.
“Zayn… fuck… I’m gonna…”
I didn’t stop.
I sped up. Mouth tighter, deeper, wetter. My spit coated everything, glistening down to his base. My jaw ached. My throat burned.
But I didn’t stop.
His cock swelled one last time.
And then he broke.
He came hard.
The first spurt filled my throat.
Then another. And another.
Warm. Sweet. Endless.
It poured out of him. Thick and fast. So much I had to swallow again, and again, and again just to keep up.
His entire body seized — back arched, thighs locked, fists gripping the pillow so tight his knuckles turned white. His moans broke into cries, then silence, then shudders.
I stayed down until he twitched.
Then one final lick up his shaft before I let him go.
His cock dropped against his stomach. Still slick. Still twitching.
His eyes were glassy. His lips parted. His chest rose and fell like he’d run miles.
He didn’t speak for a long time.
Then finally:
“I didn’t think that was possible.”
I kissed the inside of his thigh and said, “You just needed someone who actually appreciates your cock.”
Let me know you want to hear what happened next?
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