Fellating Frank

I should give him a name since he is becoming a regular. Kafka dude — a.k.a. Frank — and I hung out last night. We had dinner with the roommate and her fiancé. They went to a party after the restaurant; Frank and I returned to the apartment.

We snuggled on the sofa and talked for hours about nothing in particular. We drank beers and made out. His hands shifted up my sides and back, the fingers eventually settling inside my shorts, splayed open and palming my ass, over and under the graph paper patterned panties I had worn. Eyes closed and in the darkness blind, we maneuvered by feel and touch, our heads twisting to stretch those kisses out. I sucked on his tongue and tasted the spicy flavors of the meal we had eaten and the earthy beer.

Eventually, I suggested we migrate to my bedroom. When he undressed me, he noticed the bruises on the right side of my ass. They were small, but required an explanation. I told him about my play date on Saturday afternoon and suggested that he could spank me sometime, too.

“Hmmm,” he said, pulling off his jeans. He seemed undisturbed by the admission that I had other lovers. As he commenced nursing at my breasts, suckling on one nipple, then moving to the other, I wondered if there were other women for him as well and what his parents thought of his nights away. He pushed me flat onto the bed. I figured it wasn’t my business to know and shrugged the thoughts aside. Reaching for his erection, my fingers made a ring around the shaft and descended. I licked my palm to wet the hand and stroked him till he was hard and ready.

He straddled my upper body, his ass hovering above my tits, and fed me his cock. It sunk past my lips and descended to the edge of my throat. Lifting my head from the pillow, I sucked him. Taking three-quarters of his length within, my fingers squeezed the remainder at the bottom. I feathered my touch over his balls and hummed tunelessly around the shaft. The consistency and quality of the erection changed in my mouth.

After a time, we reversed position. He laid down while I hunched over him from the side. I nibbled at the foreskin and peeled it from the head. Rolling my tongue around the curves, I gave his exposed and sensitive crown wet kisses. It was our third night together, and I still hadn’t tasted his semen. The translucent precome was sharp and tangy.

I took the penis within. My jaws stretched to admit it. The crown cascaded against the roof of my mouth. Swallowing back the gag reflex, I submerged it in my throat and swam down deeper until my lips pressed into his groin. I held him there. The scent of him filled my nose and lungs. I let go of the cock when I surfaced for air, and then, with hands on his belly and thigh for balance, moved easily over him again. His fingers gathered my hair, tucking stray bits behind an ear, and held it out of the way so that he could look down on me and watch. I made my lips taut and rotated my face and lifted back until only the crown remained between my lips. Closing my eyes, I gave long, slow, luxurious sucks, taking his shaft the whole way down. As my head was constantly in movement and he was never inside me completely for more than a second or two, it wasn’t difficult to deepthroat. The sounds of gratification he emitted, the soft sighs, the steady, deep breaths, the way his hands wrapped my hair, how his cock seemed to elongate in my lips, and, of course, the words he spoke, a verbal confirmation that this was good: it encouraged me to perform. I scratched his thigh as I took him in. I made my tongue soft and rasped it along the underside. I played with the springy skin of the sac.

His words brought me short.

“If you keep that up, I am going to jizz,” he said, breaking my blowjob reverie.

“You don’t say?” I replied. I slapped the wet shaft against my cheek and rubbed my face into his balls.

“You mean it hasn’t occurred to me that if I suck your cock, you’ll come?” I spoke into his legs, biting the skin playfully.

“I thought you Oxford boys were supposed to be bright.” My tongue stretched into the space behind his scrotum, which I had raised up against the base of his penis.

“I want you to come.” I brought my lips over one of his balls, tugging it down.

“I want to drink your semen, ok.” I gently lipped the other testicle and washed it with my tongue.

“That’s the whole point of a blowjob.” The bottom of my tongue swiped around the crown.

“You.” I deposited a wet kiss on top of the head.

“Coming.” I left another, softer kiss on the front face.

“In my mouth.” The tongue flicked against the aperture.

I looked up at him with a grin that flashed teeth.

He smiled back at me in acquiescence and spread his arms apart.

“Can I please go back to sucking you now?” I asked.

His legs budged open. “Please do,” he said.

So I did.

He wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t long before I sensed the changes that told me his eruption was imminent. The signals were apparent. His breathing became ragged. He clutched my hair tighter, tugging at the roots. The muscles in his thighs corded up. His face tensed into an intense grimace. I could have kept the tease going — I can generally take a man to the brink, leave him there, and bring him back by varying stimulation and pace. But I wanted to taste, so I picked the tempo up, making the rhythm harder and tighter. He thrust his hips at me and drove the penis into my face and grunted. Then he collapsed on the bed and moaned as the levees burst. The orgasm exploded into my mouth, his semen spraying in thick jets. I clamped my lips halfway down and steadied the erection at the bottom. The skin was hot to the touch, and the shaft jumped in my fingers. I milked the cock and worked to swallow, but couldn’t drink his come fast enough. Some of it spilled past my lips and coated my fingers and dribbled down his shaft and groin.

It was a heady concoction, a strong and salty taste with undercurrents of sweetness beneath. I lapped up the spunk that covered my hand and cleaned it from the sides of the shaft. I kissed what had fallen over the pubis from his skin. Making my tongue pointy, I swept through the hairs, to ensure that none of his come went to waste drying over him.

I sprawled myself on his chest. Lying side by side, we traded protracted kisses. Frank’s hands found their way between my legs. He stroked the pussy lips and decided that it was my turn to come orally. His cock took the opportunity to recover. Having shot once, he fucked me afterwards for the longest time. As before, we kept going, though this time, the roommate had company to warm her bed also.

Frank invited me to a concert on Friday. We will do it again.