Cocksuckers thoughts.

You can’t take your eyes off that big cock; you stare at it in admiration and lust, you know deep down that you belong on your knees - you know your job is to drop and start worshipping - you anticipate how great it will feel sliding into your mouth when you begin to enjoy the slight salty taste from the head, lock your lips and mouth around the warm cockhead. His pulsing cock will become the centre of your world.

You hadn’t expected to be on your knees, serving a stranger’s cock this afternoon. You had been drinking a cappuccino in the quiet coffee shop when you saw him enter. Six foot tall, wearing a tight-fitting light blue tee shirt and dark navy Levi 501 jeans, North Face trainers. A few days of beard stubble on his neck and chin, well built body, confident, good-looking, masculine. He glanced around as he got his coffee then sat at a table next to you. After a few moments he nodded at you, his lips in a half smile. “Hi, how are you doing” he said quietly. Your heart beat more quickly as he acknowledged you. “Fine, thanks. How are you?” you replied, surprised he had made contact. Could he know you had been admiring him since he entered the coffee shop? He seemed very sure of himself, that sort of confidence you admire in some other men.

There was a long pause until he said quietly “You want to suck cock?” God, he was sure of himself. A casual pick-up in the middle of the afternoon, no subtle chatter as you got to know more about each other. You almost stammered your reply - “Yes” then added “please”, agreeing your place in the hierarchy with that single word. “Let’s go to my hotel, just down the street” he said. You both abandoned the coffees, and you followed him out of the restaurant. A hotel, so he wasn’t local, this would be a one-off sex encounter with a dominant guy, who you would probably never meet again.

You walked with him a short distance to his hotel, strolled together across the reception area, into a vacant lift. He pressed the button for the eighth floor, you feeling very nervous but then his hand casually rested on your shoulder for a few moments, reassuring, reminding you of your place. The lift stopped and he guided you along the corridor to the right; you were, rather surprisingly, suddenly aware of the quality of the carpets and fittings in this hotel. Your senses were heightened because of your anticipation of what was about to happen. He used his key-card to open his hotel room, guided you in with his hand still on your shoulder, then he put the ‘Do not disturb’ sign on the outside door handle and closed the door, clicking it locked. He turned to face you, a confident half-smile on his face.

He took a few paces to get closer to you and murmured “knees”. No kissing or fondling, straight to the point. You obeyed, falling to your knees, your face at the level of his crotch as he unbuckled the black leather belt on his Levis, and started to undo the buttons. He was commando, and you could see the hair running up his stomach as he unbuttoned. His musky scent hit you and you inhaled, savouring the smell of a man in heat, a clean personal smell, just a slight hint of sweat, his masculine odour turning you on. You licked your lips, your mouth opening involuntarily as you got the first sight of his cock. It was thickening as he released it from his jeans, a dark bush of wiry pubic hair at the base. Good size hairy balls hanging free.

This is why you followed him here - you both knew your job is to begin worshipping - your lips and tongue already anticipating the feel of his hardening cock sliding into your mouth, savouring the salty taste from the cock head, locking your lips and mouth around the warm dick. You are overwhelmed by your need to service this man, your nerves disappear and you feel so much calmer. You are in exactly the place you need to be. His pulsing cock will become the centre of your world. He smiles down at you, understanding your need to submit to his sexual demands.

You hear yourself moaning just before the first contact, a sound that betrays your longing and anticipation for him. Your tongue gets the first few drops of pre-cum then your lips close round his cockhead, feeling the heat. You start sucking up and down on his cock - you feel it throbbing in your mouth and you enjoy the feel of the flesh sliding up and down, in and out, with each thrust - his balls bang against your chin as he gently fucks your face - his pre-cum oozing all over your twitching tongue. This is the power of cock the primary reason for a cocksucker like you to exist. Your nose loves the musky sweaty smell of his crotch, urging you to surrender to his masculine cock. His wiry pubic hair scratches your face as you press in more deeply, as his rigid cock impales itself in your mouth over and over. Your tongue is tasting his sex, a hint of musk and piss, moving almost by itself to touch all parts of his dick.

He pulls his tee shirt over his head as you suck, revealing a muscular body, hair running in a dark treasure trail up from his crotch, across his abs then spreading out over his chest, small hairy tufts at his nipples. You glance up, lusting over his hairy chest, and run your hands up through the hair and tease his nipples. This is the classic position for worship, you kneeling before your master, serving his most private male parts with your mouth, arms extended upwards to stroke and squeeze his body, to give him even more enjoyment. Your pleasure derives entirely from serving him, you need to maximise his enjoyment and submit to his lust.

He picked you for this task in the coffee shop and you must confirm that he made a good choice, show him he can use your mouth and throat as he wants, controlling and dominating you. He smiles down at you, enjoying his superiority, not quite sneering at you, but appreciating his place as the dominant male. You eyes stare into his, having a wordless conversation: his eyes say it all, “I am in control, you will do whatever I want, you will service me however I want”. In your eyes he sees acceptance, submission, agreement. One soul communicating with another. This is a mind fuck as well as a throat fuck - he instructs, you obey, he dominates, you submit, he will spunk in your mouth, you will swallow. The parameters are agreed and understood by both of you, no argument or discussion, you will comply.

Occasionally he interrupts his thrusting, withdraws his cock from your mouth, then rubs his cock and balls across your face, beating his rigid cock on your cheeks and lips. Your face glistens with his pre-cum mixed with your own saliva from his cock, and you are proud that he is marking you. The way he repeatedly rubs his cock and balls over your face drives you wild with lust, your tongue darting in and out of your desperate hungry mouth, trying to get more drops of his musky sweat and precious pre-cum. These desperate lunges of your tongue are largely futile as he rubs his erection from your chin to your forehead and back, over and over. He gently cock whips your face, and you admire the weight and heat and rigidity of this powerful tool. Your hands hold his hairy muscular thighs for balance as he intensifies this face-to-crotch rubbing. You both know that your head needs this treatment and you push your face willingly up into his hot sweaty groin, the centre of your being trying to merge with his manhood, confirming his control over you, showing your need, your desperation for cock, for service, for spunk.

His hands rest firmly on the back of your head, reassuring and controlling at the same time, and you love it. That simple gesture of his hand on your head reinforces your status - cocksucker. He murmurs “Good boy” and you are insanely grateful for his words of praise. He thrusts his cock back into your mouth, making you gag as it nears your throat. But gagging doesn’t matter, you must overcome it, you need this rough treatment. His hands direct the pace of your head bobbing up and down on his cock, and control the depth of your sucking. You have literally given up your head for this treatment, for him to control and use and abuse.

How could he have known in the coffee shop that he was picking the right guy to suck his cock? He must have seen some longing in your face, seen your need to get on your knees to his manhood, to accept his body demanding your service with such submission. You realise the moaning you can hear is coming from you, submitting, begging, eager to show him your desperate needs.

You love the hardness and warmth of his cock, and savour the silky taste of his man-juice on your tongue - he begins to feel that special sensation from the nerve endings at the base of his cock and you suck harder and harder on his throbbing cock head. His thrusts become more intense as he approaches his climax. It’s difficult to breathe, but you suck in air from his crotch when you can. Tears stream down your face. You gag but cannot allow his male weapon to escape. Each time your throat gags on his cock, the tightness stimulates his cock to throb harder, gag..., throb..., gag..., throb..., a repeating pattern leading to a glorious climax. You feel the spasms and vibrations of his orgasm as it shoots each hot spunky wad from his balls up the length of his cock, to spurt and splatter into you. The first few spurts go straight down your throat, and you swallow, ready for more. He is generous enough to withdraw slightly, so your tongue and mouth can appreciate the taste of the next spurts of hot spunk. He thrusts it deeper and more forcefully into your sucking, serving, hungry mouth with each throb. You love the full masculine salty taste of each hot spunky wad before it slides down your throat. You gratefully gulp down each spurt of cum. He is gifting you his manly essence, his sperm, his personal present to you. Deep down, you know your place is here, on your knees, servicing that thrusting dominant cock, giving up your lips and mouth and throat and head for his primal pleasure, and yours. You slurp and lick and suck his super sensitive cock head - you must ensure you will get every drop of his life-giving spunk. It is your job, your pleasure, your part of the arrangement, to clean his cock and balls and crotch with your lips and tongue.

You continue service after he has finished shooting, your tongue covering the sides of his cock and down to his balls. Your mouth presses into his pubes, sucking in his musk and sweat. His damp pubic hair scratches your face, but you are reluctant to move away from your cleaning duties. You inhale through his pubes, man smell, cum smell, intoxicating, dominant odour. Perfect.

He smirks down at you, as you slobber over his crotch. “Get stripped” he says. “You can rim my hairy ass for a while, before I use you again.” Your own cock is rock hard in your jeans, but that will have to wait. This man is going to use you further for his own selfish needs, and you are so grateful