("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text Archive name: hj.txt (MM, gay/lez, rom) Authors name: gmsmith (gmsmith@juno.com) Story title : Harold and Jack: A true Love Story ------------------------------------------------------ -= This work is copyrighted to the author © 2000. =- Please do not remove the author information or make any changes to this story. You may post freely to non- commercial "free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites. Thank you for your consideration. ------------------------------------------------------ Harold and Jack a True Love Story (MM, rom) by gmsmith (gmsmith@juno.com) A committed straight divorces his wife and meets his lifelong gay lover... Chapter 1 - INTRODUCTION In baring my queer heart to the world, it is not my goal to either foster or hinder any particular life style. I am proud to be gay, a 40 year old fag who years ago escaped from a marriage to a lesbian, who bore me three -- all children now estranged, for the shame of having a queer father. Those in the gay community should certainly be more approving of my life style than those of the straight and narrow minded homophobic population. But to all who may object to my professed, privately engaged in, sexual practices, ask yourself the question whether or not my addiction to cock sucking or my taking it up the back way ever harmed you, your particular relationship, or, for that matter, your marriage. But for your prejudices, Harold and I could have been legally wed, rather than receiving only a blessing from a fellow gay pastor. You can call me a "queer," a "cocksucker," a "fag," a "queen," or worse, but I never call you names, such as "cunt fucker," "muff diver," "pussy lapper," etc. I then implore all of us to live and let live in peace. So be it. . . and on with the story of my life. While names and locales have been changed for obvious reasons, the guy you are reading about is me. I never made a conscious decision to become what I am. This was God's choice and I am told that God is love. Remember that in this game of stud poker called life, I merely played the hand that I was dealt. Nothing more, nothing less. This is my first attempt at publication, and I confess to a lack of writing talent. Hopefully, my inadequacies in verbal expression will not prevent my feelings and truthful message from emerging. While I have shown these written memories to a few close friends (with each of whom I have been sexually intimate on numerous occasions, and I know them to be completely trustworthy), for obvious reasons, both they and I must remain anonymous. Also, I want you to appreciate that you are reading actual events in my life, this is not a "story" made up for your titillation or just to stimulate your jacking off while you read it. Really, I've got better things to do with my time than to amuse strangers. If only make believe, my cock certainly would have been a robust uncut 10-incher, as in all of the fictitious stories that flood the Internet, rather than only a skimpy circumcised six-and-half-incher. But I've had as much fun with "Pinky" (everyone should have a name for his cock). I've given as much pleasure with it as you have with yours. Enthusiasm can sometimes make up for lack of size, particularly when the choice is between being tickled to death or bored to death. If we perchance meet someday, perhaps I can elucidate and answer any of your questions. To keep the length of this lifelong confessional within reason, repetitious and insignificant happenings have been redacted out. Their inclusion in this revelation would not have changed the message. However, if my memory permits me to recall other important happenings, I may some day cause a revised version of this remembrance to be submitted for your approval, condemnation, or perhaps you just won't give a damn. It is said that confession is good for the soul. If so, when you finish my revelation, I will then be as clean as the wind driven snow, ready for my God. I pray for the day when my priest confessor is able to give me absolution. But for his vows, he could well have been a fleshmate of mine. What you read below is autobiographical. That is, while not only factual, i.e., true in each and every detail, it is, admittedly, an inadequate substitute for a daily diary. For lack of some of the forgotten details, I offer my abject apology. While the memory can play tricks, such as my now recalling nine-inch cocks as actually having been a mere seven inches. But I was never one to turn down any pre-cum oozing prick just because it didn't measure up to my size expectations, as long as it produced my favorite creamy cocktail. My definition of an attractive cock was one that was either being sucked or was one that was about to be sucked. Of course, the clipped and unclipped cocks require a somewhat different cock sucking technique, an always-pleasant challenge. I even accept the strange description of how sucking, licking, or lapping can be called "blowing," as if you were inflating a balloon. This, of course, is too painful even to contemplate. I certainly think that "suck- offs," rather than "blow jobs" is a better reference, but one must stick with the language of the street. So "suck-offs" in this narration will simply be described as "blow jobs". In my years and years of giving blow jobs, you can take my word for it that a guy's balls and the quantity of his juice vary proportionately with both the size of his rod and how long it has been since his last orgasm. Eight hours sleep usually produces a goodly fresh batch, although seconds and thirds can produce surprising amounts of cum. Also, I've consistently found that shaved pubes are a real turn on, particularly around the asshole with its unique brush like fuzz, if you happen to be into licking the love bud. With me, I know a tender tonguing of my anus, all by itself, can still make me come perilously close to shooting my jism. This can be a great waste, unless you can catch most of it in your hand or on your partner's belly for later tongue clean ups. While having been on the receiving end of a pulsating cock literally hundreds of times as the "suckor" (which is my very favorite activity, whether aside, on top, or on the bottom), I'm still partial to swishing it around, sharing, and swallowing my own cum whenever possible. As a result of their being regularly used as handles, my ears still can give my now balding head the look of a Grecian vase. Variety may be the spice of life, but my home-brewed ball juice, from my strict vegetarian and herbal diet, is still the fruitiest I've ever tasted. It has just a slightly salty, slightly tart flavor that some ecstatic recipients have actually found to be habit forming. I've had many cock suckers compliment me on the viscosity, smooth texture, and tartness of my cum and its direct and orgasmic method of delivery, with its initial blast and the repeated little squirts, only to let me sample it with a follow-up kiss and a French- like dueling of tongues. You may very well find these to be odd recollections from a former "straight," now, perhaps, a hyperactive gay man, who was over 30 years old when he sucked his first cock, who "survived" a 10-year marriage with a lesbian spouse, and who presumptively fathered three children. I say "presumptively," for fatherhood is, after all, only a legal presumption, while motherhood is a biological fact. While I indeed had my pecker in her pussy and shot off my balls, I may also have had help. Someone may have had it in for me! True "homos" generally can't get it up with a pussy, the reverse is not true for lesbians, who fake their orgasms, can become pregnant, and actually can give a passable blow job. I say "passable," for it is my conviction, and actual experience through the years proves it to me, that only a man can truly appreciate either giving or receiving a blow job. Lesbians, of course, also claim that they are the only ones that can properly eat pussy. I guess this means that, at a former point in my life, I progressed -- or degenerated I suppose, if you choose --from a heterosexual, to a bisexual, to a homosexual -- in the language of the street, from a straight to a queer or a fag, today a hip swaggering queen, if you must. Although, whenever the situation presents, I still can and do get it up and shoot it off, thank you. I have never been particularly interested in labels and presently have no interest whatsoever in cunts, either to ogle them at the beach or to fuck or to lap them. If you require a tag for me, just take your pick. I can live with it. As a "teener" in a local Boy Scout troop, we had our campsite contests to see who had the longest pecker, with a game of dueling pricks, I had experienced numerous group jack-offs around the camp fires. No one ever seemed interested or brave enough to touch another's tool, and there was certainly no tasting of that icky, gooey stuff that shot all over, making a horrendous sticky mess, which you tried to shake off your fingers like buggers from picking your nose. Once while busily engaged in the five-finger cock massage group activity, the scout leader surprised us, much to our chagrin and embarrassment. We all went immediately limp and hastened to put it away and zipped up. Instead of letting us off, Mr. Grant (not his real name) told us that our punishment was that we had to strip naked in front of him, harden them up again, and run them off while he watched! He stayed right there until the last bare-assed kid had emptied his tiny balls. He even helped some of the limp ones, cupping their balls and massaging their little cocks. Then we had to promise never to do that again, a promise broken at the first opportunity. We were then marched stark naked in front of the remaining troop. They all whistled, catcalled, and jeered, but they were also nothing but fucking little jack offs who just hadn't been caught yet. We'd find a way to get back at them. High school and gym class with its open showers was a source of embarrassment to me, for you see the head of my clipped cock, like a ripe plum, was so much larger than that of any of the other guys. I could never lather it up without the stem popping up to attention. Then they would stare, point, and giggle. Oh, how I would have traded that monster cock head for another couple of inches on the stem and larger balls. Aside from this problem, the big head on my only six and a half inch penis (which, regrettably, never got any longer) would not have been any drawback, if the "word" hadn't gotten around to the others in the class. After a considerable amount of begging during recess, to win a good sized bet or to take a dare, I would haul out the rod and display it, much to their oohs and aahs. By hindsight only, I don't think that I have ever seen an attractive cunt, while almost all cocks, balls, and love holes to me have been objects for my rapt attention. The cunt of my later-to-become wife looked more like an omelet. I have never since been able to enjoy this French egg dish without recalling her ugly pussy. Lathering and shaving her vaginal mound only made the problem worse. Aside from the fireside jack offs, I had never had any sexual associations with either gender. Our group jack-off sessions and my frequent private hand milking sessions just seemed to be a temporary substitute for and a prelude to girl fucking. We also told many lies about our female conquests and the times we supposedly had been sucked off by a date. To my recollection, there were no admitted homos in the group, although we had some doubts about the scout leader, who would occasionally keep one of us boys (never me) in his tent over night. Years later I learned that his wife had divorced him and that he had been arrested for sucking off a number of his charges. Newspaper accounts described these incidents -- no matter how pleasant to the recipient -- as "molestations." If my remembrances ended here, you would have wasted your time just getting this far. Pretty dull, yes. Fortunately, or unfortunately, as the case may be, there is more. I hope that you can navigate its wiles without the necessity of jerking off or molesting your roomy against his will. Just keep both hands out of your pocket and on the table and read on. I'll get it up for you later. As you may have guessed, high school was dullsville. I had never been propositioned by either sex, and I had never even had the opportunity to play stink finger with a girl, a coward's way to taste the flavor of pussy second hand and to enjoy its fishy aroma, which gives credence to the old saying, "when you can smell it, you have it half licked." I don't even recall having a hand inside of either a bra or panties. I was damned glad to graduate from high school and get on to college, which was my first experience of living away from my parents and my brothers and sisters. I trust that you are not too surprised or disappointed when I can truthfully say that I never had sex with any of my family, or anyone else for that matter. My only sex was peter pulling, jerking off, sometimes two or three times a day. I had discovered that by lying on my back in bed, with a pillow under my head and my feet touching the head board behind, I could shoot jism right into my mouth, with some of my cum hitting either my nose or chin. This was sometimes messy, but always tasty, and I never wasted a drop of the cream. It also kept mom from finding the dried hard spots on my sheets. My college dorm roommate could not conceal his homosexuality, although my stolid "straightness" kept him at a safe distance in the upper bunk while he was whacking his jock. Although he many times strutted around the room, naked and with an erection blooming, his trolling of the bait never aroused my interest. He always spent too much time in the bathroom, but he never locked the door, many times leaving it ajar, perhaps hoping that I would take the obvious hint and come in. Many times I would come into the room needing to piss, only to find him on the throne milking his meat. He never missed a beat, and I'd have to stand on my tip toes and pee in the high sink. While he was jerking off, he couldn't keep from staring at my pissing cock. The dormitory was filled to capacity, and my request for a change of roommate was turned down. At this time I had just met my wife-to-be and lost my virginity after weeks of begging, sucking her tits, kissing the cheeks of her ass, and lapping her pussy, but I never could get around to her bung, which she wouldn't even let me touch with my little finger. 69ing wasn't too bad when I was the upper or so-called superior position going down on her quivering juicy twat, but when she got her cookies while spread eagled atop my face sucking my cock, I thought I was going to suffocate, if not drown, in her gushing cunt juices. Yes, friends, girls cum too, but not the manly creamy stuff. It was not until we got a prescription for birth control pills that I was able to fuck her without a rubber and load her ugly twat with my cream, but even then only after a lengthy foreplay of begging and dining at the "Y" with her hands firmly at the back of my head. I was getting calluses on my tongue. If there had been a device such as a snorkel for pussy eaters, I swear she would have made me wear it. She was an apparently self-taught, but at least a half-way decent cock sucker; but the bitch wouldn't let me come in her mouth. When I sucked my freshly ejaculated delicious cum off of her breasts or out of her cunt, she had the audacity to call me a "fucking pervert," which were her actual words. After I had lapped up my juice, she wouldn't let me kiss her for fear that she might get some jism in her mouth. This really pissed me off, because I thought that my cock juice was exquisite, and I didn't want it wasted by getting it soaked up in a towel or a Kleenex and discarded. I never could convince her that swallowing cum couldn't make her pregnant! Only later did I learn that she and her former lesbian roommate were still frequently meeting sub rosa and 69ing each other's brains out. With her deviancy and my, to then, lack of appetite for cock, you'll say it was unusual for me to marry and spawn all of those children. Latent cock suckers don't often do that. But we were living in a small midwestern town, with no queers daring to come out of the closet. Instead of "outing," they all left for the west coast, where they would have numerous opportunities for a normal life. Also, without attracting undue attention, she was able to continue longstanding relationships with her other lesbian girl friends. I found that society doesn't attach the same significance to women hugging and kissing each other in public. However, if I had ever French kissed one of my male sperm donors in public, we both would certainly have been tarred and feathered. Such is life in a small midwestern city, where beating up a queer on Saturday night is considered a public service. At the exchange of marital vows, never to stray, etc., till yee die, I attempted to be true even to my lesbian wife, who had lost nearly 100% of her former, apparently feigned, interest in my cock, which she would only occasionally fuck, and had entirely given up sucking on it. This infrequent release of tensions proved to be too difficult for this mere mortal with balls, which required frequent emptying. With her numerous women friends in our small town it would have been too risky for me to have fucked around with any of them. While pouring out my grief and the burning pain in my testicles to a friend at work, he said that he was very sympathetic with my problem and would do anything he could to help me out with my case of bursting nuts. I knew him to be unmarried, but I thought him to be straight, as he frequently bragged about how much ass he was getting on a regular basis -- only later did I discover that it was really male ass he was getting! My thoughts went back to my boy scout leader who had gotten into trouble with some of the boys in our troop, and I wondered just what would be involved if I let my new found friend "help me out," as he had volunteered to do. He invited me on a tent-camping over night for a fishing weekend. We actually had our waders, fishing poles, bait, etc., which, as it turned out, never got wet. I don't even remember if we were near any body of water, just that we were in some god-awful wooded area, miles from other human beings. After we arrived, the tent was pitched, the sleeping bag unrolled -- to my surprise, there was only one double bag which we would be sharing sans pajamas in the nude. When the cooking equipment was made ready, Harold (not his real name) turned out to be an excellent cook, and we enjoyed tender steaks and the works. Our beers were iced and ready and there was even a gin martini or two before dinner. Much to my surprise, after dinner, Harold produced some weed and we passed it back and forth for a pleasant little buzz. Conversation was tentative, mainly about the weather, the state of the economy, and the Cub's chances for a pennant -- nil, of course. Then Harold casually mentioned that it had been a long time since he had gotten his balls off. We shared that this was a mutual need, but I saw no ready way to solve the problem. Harkening back to my Boy Scout days, we would both simply have hauled out our meat and jacked off. I told Harold of my years ago practice, but he said that he had a much better idea. It was then that he told me that he was a homosexual, but that I was not to worry as there was nothing that I would have to do for him other than to relax and enjoy what he would do for me; and that it would be a lot more satisfying if we could at least play with each other's cocks. At the time, I thought the only thing we were going to do was to masturbate each other -- a grown-up Boy Scout sort of game, but at the next higher level. The thought of drinking each other's cum would have caused me to scamper back to the relative safety of the city and my wife's ugly omelet- shaped twat. I had no reason to anticipate how many higher levels of sexual activity Harold and I would engage in that very night and how it would steer me on the right course -- for the rest of my life. Harold had brought with him several glossy homosexual man-to-man naked and explicit sexual pictorial magazines that we went through, page by page, pose by pose, with Harold's animated graphic description of what the men were doing -- for each other, to each other, and with each other. I had never seen such a photographic collection of nude men, all with huge erections and many with their cocks in the mouths or up the assholes of others. My rod was noticeably stimulated and Harold's package was putting a great strain on his slacks with a large wet spot soaking through. Harold told me that he had actually been offered a chance to model for this type of publication and to act in male porno movies, but that he was afraid that some of the people in town would recognize him. This was probably a small risk, as our town didn't even have an XXX type of movie theater, and porno magazine racks were illegal. This was in a day before you could rent such movies on video cassette. Where is the ACLU and freedom of expression when you really need them? The weather being comfortable and flying insects not a problem, Harold suggested that we get out of our clothes for our little sex game around the camp fire. Since high school in the open showers, I'd never been in the buff with another man, and I let Harold be the first to bare his equipment, which was spectacular indeed. Only when he stood au natural with his gorgeous penis straight out in front like a flag pole did I join him as the second nudist. Almost like a casual hand shake greeting of straight male friends, we each wrapped our hands around the other's cock and cuddled his balls. This was my first touching of another's pecker. Little did I suspect that his cock would actually shoot off in my mouth that very evening, and that I would end up licking it, sucking it, and asking for more of its ball juice. As Harold with his admitted homosexuality was the one of us experienced in man-to-man love, I took my clue from him, mimicking mirror-like his every move, wondering what would take place next. Harold suggested that we lie down on the spread blanket. With his hand still on my cock, I was in seventh heaven and thought that I might cum too soon. I didn't want it to be over that quickly. Harold proceeded to kiss and suck my nipples and lick and suck my belly button. Whee, this was definitely more than a Boy Scout game now, but, surprisingly, I didn't mind and my Pinky was oozing pre-cum. It reminded me of some of the male models in the magazines we had just been gazing at. Harold started kissing my neck and cheeks, sucked my ear lobes, and before I knew it he was kissing me on the mouth, with his tongue swishing around and our cocks rubbing together. My tongue welcomed his and before I knew it I was reciprocating, swishing my tongue around in his mouth. I could never have guessed that kissing another man could be so exciting. Needless to say, my cock was now at least an inch longer than it had ever been before and was dripping on Harold's belly. Pretending to pout, Harold asked me to clean up the droplets with my tongue, a taste of my own pre-cum. Harold then turned me over with my ass up. He parted my cheeks and said that my buns were the sexiest he had ever seen, as he started to kiss each cheek, even licking deep down in the valley where the sun don't shine. I was doing my best not to cum as he licked my virginal butt hole, but he said to hold off and promised that the best was yet to cum. He swiftly moved his tonguing to my balls, taking each one separately into his mouth, then both of them at the same time. My cock dripping became more profuse, and he proceeded to lick off the head, he said "for the sake of neatness." Except for the beers and the double martinis, which slowed me down, I would have shot my load long before this. But it was simply too much to hold back when he suddenly deep throated my log all the way to my balls. I was so far down his throat, with my nuts resting on his chin, that he probably didn't even get to taste my cream, for it must have gone straight into his stomach. When he kissed me this time, however, I detected the taste and aroma of my very own juice, which was to become a lifelong addiction. I don't really know if one who loves cum can be considered an addict, as in the case of a dope fiend, but all I can say is that in my later life when I bloomed into being an active member of the gay community I never once -- that may bear repetition -- I never once turned down the chance to give someone a blow job and swallow their tangy cream, always good to the last dribble, sometimes followed with a salted soda cracker! In my high school days after jacking off into my own mouth, I'd sometimes chase my cum with a 7-Up, causing my burps to become deliciously aromatic. To this time, Harold had been the only active one of us, but his teaching by way of example wasn't lost on me, and one good turn certainly deserved another. Although dripping tasty pre-cum, Harold had successfully held back his load. As a tenderfoot cock sucker, I wasn't able to take much of his rod into my mouth. Each time I tried I gagged. Harold told me that he would teach me how to do it right, but that, if I was careful not to scratch his cock with my teeth, I was doing just fine for a beginner. I found that enthusiasm can make up, at least partially, for lack of experience. Mostly, I was just licking his piss hole, sucking the head of his prick, and enjoying his oozing pre-cum. He asked me to take it out of my mouth and to lick around his balls. For the first time, I noticed that Herald was smooth and perfectly shaven from his belly button down including his cock, balls, and bung. This made his asshole smooth to my probing tongue and his balls easy to slurp in between my lips, although I wasn't able to get both of them in my mouth at the same time as Harold had done with my balls. When nestled deliciously down in his crotch it wasn't much of a trip to lap around his bung just as he had pleasured me. This caused his smoothly shaved cheeks to pinch and he playfully trapped my nose in his crack. I wish now that I had a picture showing the back of my head trapped in the crack of his ass while sticking the tip of my tongue into his smooth hairless butt hole. While my memory of this first man-to-man experience may not be totally accurate, I'd swear that my tongue was at least a good half-inch inside his hairless bung, maybe more. Who will ever really know? But in later years I became much more adapt at tongue and cock fucking assholes. This was, obviously, doing great things for Harold, who tapped me on the top of my head and told me it was now cock sucking time, and that he was going to shoot off a load in my mouth. He knew, of course, that this was my first time of going down on a prick and that he hadn't unloaded for the past two or three days. He warned me that his load would be huge, but that I should try to swallow as much of it as I was able to. He said that if I drooled, he would gladly lick me clean. It was then that I pulled my tongue out of his asshole, had him sit up with his back supported by a nearby tree, and I crawled toward his upright giant meat. I'd only recently had it in my mouth and knew I couldn't take very much of it, this my first cock sucking time. But I managed to tongue back his foreskin and unclipped head and about four inches of his cock into my mouth before gagging. I then backed off about an inch of cock and started going up and down on it in short strokes. In later years I learned that this is only a rank beginner's way of pleasuring a cock; but Harold, to say the least, was both most patient with a neophyte, and was he ever ready to gush! You bet he was ready, and my sucking hastened the cum harvest of my first giving of a blow job. When his balls tightened up, he gave no more than a 10-second warning of the cumming explosion, and a veritable blast it was. I wish I could have caught it in a measuring cup or a large shot glass, for it must have set some sort of a record. But my only choice was to suck the head of his joint and swallow as much as I could, spurt after spurt, after spurt, after dribble. Would it ever stop? He was right about the quantity, as it dripped on my chin and down my chest to my belly button. True to his word, he thoroughly tongued me clean of his cum, I licked his cock clean of cum, and we French kissed to share the treasure trove. While he was shooting cream in my mouth I was busy enough trying to gulp it down and couldn't detect any particular viscosity, texture, or flavor. But when the tornado blast subsided and I could swish it around a little, I became a lifelong fan of the liquid cock blast, known in polite mixed company as semen, a clinical word depriving it of any pleasure and thought to be good only for the impregnation of a cunt. In my later life, next to my own ejaculate, Harold's cream proved to be the very best in terms of its being smooth and intriguing to the taste, with the smooth consistency, but not the relatively dull flavor of honey or of a heavy maple syrup. I learned to be grateful that Harold was a non-smoker, as cigarette smokers' cum is less in quantity, thinner, and has a distinct, slightly less tasteful flavor. But fortunately, so far at least, cigarette smokers' jism hasn't been linked to cancer, such as is the case with second-hand smoke. Although it seemed an eternity for my initiation into the gay life, the evening was still young and too early to turn in to our double sleeping bag for naked cuddling. Now a newly initiated cock sucker, I continued lovingly to caress Harold's balls, tickle his bung, and play with his recumbent semi-rigid member. With neither his encouragement nor his reluctance, for we weren't talking much, I proceeded ever so slowly, sucking him off again. As he was only partially rigid at the time, I had the exquisite experience of having his pecker coming to full bloom alive while in my mouth. Being only a half hour or so after his gigantic first load, I was able to swallow his now lesser but still generous spurting of cream, which I then returned part of to my new-found lover by mouth-to-mouth French kissing. We blew each once again before turning in for the night, and we crowned it off with two 69's the next morning before breakfast, never wasting a drop of cum, and with Harold finger fucking my asshole. Although very tight and a little painful, he actually managed to insert two fingers up to the middle joint. It was then, for the first time, that I realized that while getting sucked off was delightful, I far more enjoyed being the one doing the sucking and swallowing of the jism. HAROLD AND JACK - Chapter 2 - This ended my very first naked man-to-man weekend. I knew then that my marriage to a woman, a lesbian at that, had to be ended. Also, if I wished to catch up and make up for lost time, I had to move to an area more friendly to cock suckers. For me this proved to be southern California, where baseball takes a back seat to unabashed man-to-man love. For the next three months, while waiting for a court date for my divorce, Harold and I managed to meet discretely in out-of-town motels at least twice, sometimes as many as four times a week for the mutual release of our balls, never leaving the room, having pizza with anchovies sent in. Even of you don't like anchovies on pizza, if you are a real cum lover, anchovies give it an exquisite flavor enhancement. Try it at least once, and write me if you don't agree. I then confessed my love for him and my wanting to be with him forever, but Harold warned me of making commitments too soon, and that our future in the radical, small mid-western area was extremely doubtful, if not dangerous. Although there was the hazard of possible discovery and getting fired, after hours in the office we often sucked each other off in the john. After my long awaited divorce, swearing our lifelong love for each other, now nearly able to deep throat him, I tearfully sucked Harold off and kissed him goodbye and moved to the west coast with its gay pride and dikes on bikes, etc. It is comfortable to know that there you will not be ostracized if you admit to liking an even more than occasional cock sucking session. Occasionally is a word with different meanings to many people, but to me it meant, if possible, sucking off a cock before breakfast, one in the afternoon, and one before bed time. An opportunity missed can never be made up, or so it seemed at that time; and, having gotten a late start, I had many years to make up. Following my years of conventional marriage and almost total abstinence, insofar as cock sucking was concerned, I had more than a little to do to make up for lost time. As far as my being sucked off is concerned, I found that it is impossible to make up fully for lost time, my own balls simply can't make up for the lost years of being straight in a loveless marriage. But on the sucking and swallowing end, the lost time can be made up in short order with willing contributors, which was my exact goal. I later became familiarly known in the neighborhood as the vacuum cleaner who never wasted a drop! I made it up to the donors, not by always letting them blow me, but by tonguing their sweet bungs and French kissing them with cum in my mouth. Statistically, I was probably "blowing" cocks ten times for every time I was getting "blown." This was just fine with me, as my prime interest was in the cum, and there was little need for me to jack off as a source of my own cum. Not yet approaching queenhood, but past 30, I found that I had serious competition in my area of delight. Being new to the gay scene, and -- except for Harold's one-time exploration with two fingers up my bung -- with a virginal asshole, I was hesitant to approach total strangers, some of whom might be plain clothed policemen. My first love, Harold, who had stayed back in the closet in my hometown, came to my rescue by telephone. He knew many of the right people in my new paradise and explained to them my newness in the homosexual scene. His first referral proved to be a tasty experience with the creamiest ball juice, about a seven and a half inch clipped cock, and a twitching fuzzy bung. Following my oral servicing of him and his most casual reciprocation -- during which he actually seemed bored with it all -- he got me admitted into a small circle of studs some not more than 18 and some about my age. Would you be surprised to know that they were nearly all "immigrants" from the Midwest, just like me. What a loss of manpower for the Midwest! Harold's friend, Jim (not his real name) also got me invited to a small group that met once a week on Tuesdays for their version of "cordiality," if you get the drift. I was, of course, happy to see some late teeners in the group, as they are able to get it up and shoot with less rest time in between. With one of the members, who couldn't have been over 18, I kept his cock in my mouth after he shot and he didn't even go limp until he had shot again. But those who were even in their late 50's could still produce at least one or two good eruptions each session and they didn't have a hair trigger, which resulted in longer, more satisfying sucking times. Sometimes though while sucking an oldster, you had to wonder if he was ever going to climax before your tongue got worn out. But their long years experience of giving head turned their snake-like tongues into a magician's wand, resulting in more than the usual number of cums for me in an evening. However, as my main interest in their cock was their ball juice, I usually opted for the more vibrant youngsters, some of whom called me Pop or Dad because of the five to ten-year difference in our ages. It hurt my feelings when they sometimes preferred one of their own age and showed little interest in sucking me off or having me blow them and lick their tender, sometimes fuzzy, little pink assholes. After shedding our clothes and when we were all stripped naked, the group leader introduced each of us by first names only (probably fictitious), and we had a drawing for a number from one to eight. I drew number three, which in this game meant that I would be paired with number four for the first of that night's games. All activities were to take place on the carpeted floor of the room within the sight of all of the others. The leader said that this was a cock sucking only night, and there would be no asshole fucking that session. This was fine with me, as, aside from Harold's two- fingering my butt, my hole was still virginal, and I had heard that the first few times of having your asshole drilled with a stiff cock could be more painful than enjoyable. As the lower number (three) of my pair with number four, I could make any one of three elections: I could have four suck me off first, and I would then reciprocate; I could blow him first, and he would then perform on me; or I could choose to 69. By the rules of the game number four had no choice but to follow my choosing, sort of a temporary love-slave relationship. Being new to the group, I exercised my authority and ordered him to give me a blow job. After a short session of licking my asshole and mouthing my balls he easily deep throated my one-eyed worm. Before he made me cum, he asked if I'd like to taste my own cream, which we could accomplish by his not swallowing all of it and French kissing after my shooting. I had been about to ask him to let me have some of my cum, but it was nice of him to volunteer. I later learned that he expected me to return the favor with a generous quantity of his jism after I blew him, which I swirled around in my mouth before returning it to him. After number four, it was deuces wild, and I put my arm around the only African American in the group. What they used to say in the service about the blacks being more generously hung than us whites sure proved to be the case with this ebony stud. I don't recall his name, but his ten and half incher will never be forgotten. He had drawn a number lower than mine, so he was my sex slave master and elected to 69. I previously had succeeded in deep throating a six and sometimes even a slender seven incher, but his gigantic Shetland- pony sized dong made me gag when I attempted to put it down my throat. There was not too much trouble in swallowing his load, as he had just cum a few minutes before, and his jism, while still ample, was eagerly consumed by me without any waste. I got my first African American jism, which we later mixed by French kissing for the longest time. Even when blindfolded I can still always tell if the cream comes from one of our dark brothers. Not only is the quantity somewhat greater, but the viscosity and taste are more nutty and fruit like, possibly a little saltier. With practice, I was also able to deep throat their somewhat longer and larger black dongs, permitting them to shoot directly into my stomach. I learned that each meeting of the group always ended with a daisy chain in which all eight naked men laid on the carpet and sucked off the one in front of him, arranging, if possible, so that each got a different cock or bung from that which he may have had earlier in the evening. I may have lost count, but I think that I was rewarded with at least four deposits of ball juice that first meeting night. Fair is fair, and I must have given up the same number of batches. This new town was proving to be most interesting indeed. My preference continued to be the sucking of cocks, more than getting sucked off myself. Both were good, of course, but it was turning out that I was more of a "suckor" than a "suckee." I had many friends who didn't object to just getting blown, sometimes daily, if I would share their juice with a follow-up kiss and some tongue twirling. Sometimes when I would call on a friend by appointment in my busy daily cock-sucking route, he would have invited some unscheduled friends who also wanted to be serviced with my cunt-like mouth. If my scheduling for the day permitted the additional time before my next appointment (for I never liked to hurry a blow job), I'd give them all a blow job that they would remember for quite a while. Sometimes I'd go from cock to cock in the room, keeping them all erect for a long time, like playing musical chairs, before I let them unload their jism in my mouth. The thought of there being either too many cocks or too much cum in my belly never occurred to me. Although I've never seen a chemical analysis, even in the great quantities that I was consuming, cum must not be fattening, as I never gained any weight from my consumption of this fragrant nectar, and, gratefully, I've never had any upset stomach or digestive tract problems. Wouldn't it be funny if they someday discover that cum is nature's cure for ulcers and vitamin and mineral deficiency! I now found that to be completely accepted in the gay world, I would have to become part of the anal action set. As a dedicated cock sucker and butt licker, I didn't believe that I would ever be interested in fucking an asshole or in having mine reamed. But my friends said that I'd nevertheless have to get used to the pecker plunging of my bung, i.e., anal intercourse they called it. Aside from Harold's tender two- fingering years ago, no foreign object had ever been up butt hole. Imagining some nine incher up my butt was beyond my imagination; and, if you want to know the truth, it actually scared the hell out of me. So my first job was to find the smallest, shortest, thinnest available cock for the initiation and training of my still virginal love canal. I don't think that the person of my choosing was complimented when I told him why I had chosen him, but he agreed to break me in to the anal arts. Even with a mammoth amount of lubrication in and out of my hole and generously spread on his little dick, with one-, two-, and even three-finger explorations into my bud, the slipping in of his little auger the first time, believe you me, was not my idea of fun. When I complained that it hurt, he just slapped my ass cheeks with both open palms until they were red as a beet, like a jockey on a nag, and said to keep quiet or he would rape me then and there and make me suck off his shitty dick. It turns out that he was being as gentle as possible and he didn't attempt to put it all the way in until the insertion of his cock head had fully relaxed my opening. After a few minutes he gently slid the rest of his rod in all the way to his balls and started gentle in-and-out fucking motions, stimulating my prostate gland. Having relaxed after the complete insertion of his cock, with his balls resting between my cheeks, "This is fun," I told my ass fucker. "Why don't you start longer in and out motions until you cum up my innards in a blast." This was actually becoming joyful, and I wondered why I hadn't gotten into this butt fucking game years before. For a few more training days I got him to ride me as rough as possible with his tiny little pecker. The slapping sound of his nuts on my ass cheeks was a real turn on. I was now no longer cherry in any of my body cavities. Years after this initiation, if I had as many cocks sticking out of me as now have been stuck in me, I'd look like a porcupine! I had always thought that butt fucking was done with the fuckee bent over with his ass in the air like a bitch dog in heat, but I learned through my initiator that it was far better with me to be on my back and my legs up and over the fucker's shoulders. That way he slips his dong in my bung under my balls until, when all the way in, our ball sacs can jostle each other's. Also this way we can even French kiss while he is deep within my bowels, and I can jack off or he can give me a hand job at the same time. Why didn't someone think of this before? While I don't get to slurp up his cum that way, he gets to lick my belly clean of my cream. Whenever any of my lovers wore a condom to fuck my asshole, I could slip it off after he pulled out and drink his cum from the rubber-- a substantial bonus! Needless to say, I have now graduated into taking even the nine and ten inchers up my shute, and am now the recipient of many invitations where my love hole is put to good use. I've even been up a few bungs myself, but truthfully I'd rather be fucked than to fuck, and cock sucking with the swallowing of the juice continues to rate, for me at least, far over either being fucked or sucked. Whenever possible I ask my date not to come in my ass, so that when he pulls out I can suck him off. This is, of course, on account of my love of the jism. If only I could manufacture and bottle this stuff, it would beat out that most popular soft drink hands down. However, I must say that ball juice has to be enjoyed more or less immediately fresh upon delivery, as even a short exposure to air seems to oxidize it, rapidly destroying its delicate flavor. Have you had your break today? In the days of HIV, it now seemed to me necessary to settle down to a lifetime mate rather than playing around at various clubs and the notorious bathes. With only one partner for the rest of my life, we also could fuck each other's love holes and suck each other off without the need of using a condom. While I can certainly feel a cock with a condom on cumming inside me and have done so many, many times, there is no feeling like knowing that the cream is actually shooting up high and will soon be oozing out between the cheeks of my ass. Also, having sucked many condom- covered cocks, I can assure you all that cream shot directly into the throat and stomach is not only fresher but is tastier than that retrieved and slurped later, cold from a rubber with its latex-like flavor. Whichever way you are doing it now, try the other way and see if I'm not right. Doesn't it just make good sense? I'm certainly not advocating risky sex, but when you know that you have a clean partner, why not enjoy his love hole as nature surely intended? Why not consider mating with him for a long-term or lifetime loving relationship? Don't let a good one get away, for they are scarce. It was now five years in my new-found liberal area, where you didn't have to be straight to survive. My first gay love mate, from my Midwestern hometown, Harold, who had sworn to be faithful to me, had finally either come out of the closet back there or, perhaps, had been "outed." In any event, he found it uncomfortable to remain in such a small-minded homeopathic town and showed up at my apartment door for an unannounced visit to southern California. I answered the door fresh from my shower and stark naked underneath my wrap around terry cloth robe. I couldn't have been more happily surprised. Harold brought back memories of our first-time coupling by grabbing me and giving me the wettest of wet kisses. I playfully dragged him into my apartment out of the sight of my nosey neighbors. I dropped my robe, and proceeded to strip him naked. He dropped to his knees to renew acquaintances with my now erect cock and cream-filled balls. I reminded him of our tent weekend and its relative discomforts and suggested that we adjourn to my king-size bed. My apartment is on the second floor, and I just hope that the energetic romping on my bed didn't cause the neighbors below any disturbing ceiling noises. But, to hell with them, nothing was going to tone down my greeting of my first-love, Harold, and the greeting I received from him. I even volunteered my newly found ability to take a fucking from him up my ass. But for the initial night of our reunion we contented ourselves with mutual cock and ball sucking, asshole lapping, and 69ing. He was amazed at my ability to easily deep throat his giant cock and the hyper activity of my tongue, all skills learned in the past few years. You will recall that I had decided to find a lifetime soul mate that we could both be faithful to. Harold was my perfect choice, and I could now teach him some of the tricks that I had not only learned, but perfected in my stint in my fruit-filled area. He had not given it much thought while back home, because a gay marriage would not have been accepted in that staid community. The very next morning after his surprise arrival, while both of us were naked, following my morning blow job on Harold's cock, I was seated on the floor in front of Harold in the easy chair. His cock was now relaxed but always inviting me to suck it again. I teased it with my hands and gentle blowing of air in its direction. His pubic hairs wafted in the breeze. Heaven on earth. No two people could be happier. This was time to demonstrate to him that I had become a very accomplished cock sucker in the past five years. But first I just had to ask him the most important question of our lives: "Harold, I love you more than life. Will you marry me?" A very emotional person, he immediately began to weep alligator tears of joy and said that I had just made him the happiest person in the world. We then stood up, our cocks rubbing together, and kissed, with our active tongues in each other's mouths. Harold then suggested that we seal our engagement by going back to bed and 69ing. I told him that I wasn't too much for being the top guy for ass fucking, but that I'd simply love having him fuck my love hole while he jacked me off. This became a rather common routine, that is, after we first blew each other, Harold would put me on my back, lift my legs over his broad shoulders and fuck me, always the gentle giant up to the point of shooting off, when he became a veritable tiger in his cock plunges while depositing his load. Although he always enjoyed having me lap his hole and probe it with my tongue, I actually only fucked his asshole no more than once or twice. This was not because of unavailability of his love hole or his lack of desire to please me to the very utmost, but simply my preference for being the suckor rather than the suckee and being his fuckee rather than being his fuckor. Harold never made fun of me, but always respected my sexual preferences. Life together with my lover could not get any better than this. Actually, I'd always been in love with Harold since I first sucked off his cock for its juice on our long ago weekend camping trip. After our marriage -- actually only a blessing by a local liberal pastor attended by a few close friends -- there were the domestic duties to be divvied up between us. As husbands fuck and wives get fucked, in my case both in the mouth and in the asshole, and this was our mutual preference, we decided that Harold was to be the husband in our new loving relationship, and I was to be the wife. I had even chosen to take his surname, and with our close friends I was proudly known as "Mrs. Harold Black" (again a fictitious name). "Jack" became "Jackie." HAROLD AND JACK - Chapter 3 - Although Harold, as the better cook, continued to do most of the cooking, I washed the dishes and did the grocery shopping and tidied up our living quarters with the dusting and vacuuming, laundry, etc. While at home, except for our sandals, we were both usually completely naked, and Harold got a kick out of me wearing my tiny maids apron, which tied in the back and left my buns exposed. He never got tired of exploring under my flimsy garment and checking the state of my rod and watching whenever I bent over to pick up some trash exposing my love hole, which he was now making frequent use of, lapping it lavishly before inserting his tool for fucking. I always looked forward to getting fucked by Harold the sensation on my prostate gland was unbelievable. This alone often made me cum. We now regularly shaved each other's total body, except for the hair on our heads. We were totally smooth and hairless, even to the fuzz around our butt holes, which could otherwise get caught in your teeth. The best device for keeping smooth hairless bodies that we found after much experimentation was a ladies type cordless electric shaver. However, since the batteries run down while lovingly going over the whole body, we needed four of them, which we then recharged for our weekly shavings. They are even gentle enough for the balls and the asshole. It usually took about an hour or two each week for each of us to be completely hairless and smooth shaven. It could have been quicker except for our numerous brakes for kissing, licking, sucking, and fucking. Actually, we were never in a hurry. We found that pubic hair grows rapidly and the immediate area of the cock and balls should be shaved at least every other day to be tongue licking smooth, free of stubble. If you think that total body shaving is too radical, or what your friends at the gym or the beach might say, start out at first with just shaving each other's cock and balls. This is an exotic experience, so don't shave yourself. Shave each other, for heaven's sake. Also, you would have to be a contortionist to be able to shave behind your own ball sack and around your asshole, all critical areas for tonguing and sucking. Caution: Shaving your lover's balls, for the first time at least, must be done very carefully, but it is worth the bother, moving his hopefully stiff cock side to side for better access to his balls. When smoothly shaven the balls slip in and out of your mouth easier and we delightfully discovered permits sucking them both at the same time. Together in marriage we both made the most marvelous discovery, and that was that our sex was a thousand times more meaningful and thrilling because of our undying love for each other. Suck offs lingered longer and butt fucks were tender, sensitive, and more loving. I always relished having Harold's cock remain in my large intestines long after he unloaded his gusher up my butt, and I could sleep spoon shape for hours with his cock in me before he had to go pee. One night I playfully didn't let him pull out to piss, and he gave me a mammoth gushing piss enema! We never had a serious disagreement, but even with minor matters (never concerning fucking or sucking, on which we were always in total agreement) we would tenderly kiss, make up, and have some form of sex to re-seal our marital union. You may remember (and I'll never forget) that on our first camping weekend Harold had promised to teach me how to deep throat a cock. While I had gotten fairly good at it on my knees over the years since, Harold insisted on perfecting my deep throating technique. He showed me a trick that I had never thought of before, which was for me to lie on my back with my head dangling over the edge of the mattress. He then stood on the floor with his cock about mouth high. In this position his cock had a straight shot past my tonsils and into the top of my esophagus. This permitted him to bypass my mouth and throat with his cock head and actually to fuck my throat, in and out, in and out, always gentle, and cum directly into my stomach. Only his smoothly shaven ball sac resting on the bridge of my chin prevented him from going even deeper. This is about as close as man-to-man sex can come to the feel of fucking a pussy -- all it lacks is the bush, and in our perpetually smooth hairless condition I had no moustache. As I was still more into sucking and getting fucked, I never got around to trying this fancy deep throating on Harold, although he fucked my throat this way often. It actually became the favorite way for both of us and provided me with a steady source of Harold's flavorful ball cream. While typing these intimate memories, I've had to stop two or three times to cry elephant tears and to jack off, for you see Harold died a few months ago, a pedestrian victim of a drunken driver, and I have remained faithful to his memory at all times since. I no longer get the ball cream of others, or feel a love pole up my accommodating posterior, but I continue to drink my jism daily and never waste a drop of my own precious cum, my previously admitted teenage and lifelong addiction. Being rather tall and slim, with dedicated practice, I have discovered that while seated in a wooden chair I can get the bulbous head of my cock in my mouth for sucking, which permits me to give myself a half-way decent blow job. Don't laugh, it beats jerking off. However, my cum hardly ever hits the back of my throat and still dribbles down the shaft for later retrieval and enjoyment. I am now committed to keeping up my practice until I can get much more, possibly some day all of my cock, in my mouth. If I succeed in doing this, I'll let you all know. But now, rather than sitting in a chair, I'm doing it lying on my back on the floor with my head on a pillow and my long legs stretched way, way back over my head as far back as I can possibly get them, touching the floor with my toes. This position makes it possible to get more cock in my mouth, presently about four of its paltry six and half inches and I'm getting better week by week. When I shoot in this posture I can swallow it with none of the load running down the shaft of my cock as happens when doing it sitting up in a chair. It seems impossible for me ever to be able to lick my balls and bung, although while sucking I do massage my balls and finger my hole and often use my large size vibrating dildo on my prostate gland up my previously well-fucked asshole. Sometimes during the day while running errands or grocery shopping, I'll put in my butt plug before leaving the house. The large end of the plug is necessary to keep it from getting lost up my loose asshole. This is largely sentimental, as the asshole plug was a present from Harold on my last birthday, specially designed so that an exterior smooth plastic fin extends up between my buns providing stimulating friction while walking. Harold would always moisten the plug portion by sucking on it before having me bend over for its insertion and proper placement of the fin between my cheeks. He said the plug caused my hips to have a more wife-like swing when I walked. When out walking together, Harold didn't want anyone to have doubts as to who was the husband and who was the wife. As I was his loving wife and would have done anything to please him, I didn't mind some of the stares that I got from strangers passing by. It also made me both hot and ready for Harold's ass fucking as soon as we got back to our apartment. The dildo is a recent purchase, as I certainly had no need for it with Harold's gorgeous cock available for sucking and always ready for asshole fucking. If Harold could now look down from Heaven and see my self-suck-off efforts with the dildo up my ass, I'm sure he would have a good belly laugh and then enthusiastically applaud my valiant efforts. Also, I'm now an active member of Mothers Against Drunk Drivers, for they deal with the problem that took my beloved husband away from me long before his time, and made it necessary for me to suck myself off and to use the vibrator in my love hole. Following our marriage, Harold and I put all of our property in our joint names and made out appropriate trust and will documents. However, this didn't keep Harold's long-lost brothers and sisters from suing to have them set aside. Happily, they didn't win and I am now the sole beneficiary of Harold's rather large estate, which I hadn't even known existed. His double indemnity insurance policy provided prompt funds which were needed immediately after his accident. If you cock sucking couples haven't done this sort of planning, you should see an attorney who is friendly to your plight right away. The brothers and sisters, however, were the only beneficiaries of a wrongful death legal action. The court held that my lack of recognized legal standing with Harold, i.e., no legal marriage, prohibited me from participating in the judgment. This seemed terribly wrong, as I was the only person in the whole world who loved him. I think fondly of Harold every time that I put my cock in my mouth, suck it, and shoot off, or try to cook some of his very favorite recipes, which I'm doing right now. Pinky doesn't shoot as vigorously as in my younger years, but the quality is still there and I eagerly drink it all. I removed Harold's wedding ring from the body before burial and now wear one ring on each hand. Sometimes in the middle of the night, when I would like to have sucked him off or had my husband up and deep into my love hole, I wake up and cry. Friends who see my suffering tell me that this period of mourning is beneficial. It seems, however, that it will never end. My life as Harold's widow drags on. Instead of flowers, I suggested that his friends make a donation to Mothers Against Drunk Driving. Thank you all for your kind and generous thoughts for this lonely old cock sucker butt fuckee who will never again have the pleasure of experiencing the feel of his lover's ejaculating meat in his mouth or deep up and in, never again to have his love hole fucked and juiced with Harold's nine plus incher. But, as Shakespeare was wan to say, it is far, far better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all. THE END Postscript: While only recently rambling through a file of papers which Harold had meticulously maintained, I happened upon a sealed envelope addressed to me, with the notation "To be opened only in the event of my death." Inside the envelope was a note, entirely in Harold's handwriting. It read: "Dearest Jack, You are the love of my life and the greatest cock sucker I ever had blow me. I'll never forget my joy in having my cock buried deep in your love hole. Only death can ever separate us, one from the other. However, in the event that I should go first, hopefully later rather than sooner, I do not wish you to become a martyr, with the rest of your life becoming lonely and unbearable. That will not heal your loss. Only your active reestablishment in the community of our friends can sustain you. I am now gone. While not forgotten, I can no longer share your magnificent capacity to exude love for your fellow men and, in turn, to be the recipient of their love. Now I not only release you, but give to you my blessing and my heart-felt wishes that you have a happy and fruit-filled life. Now good bye, my love, Harold Thankfully, I have been enthusiastically and actively welcomed back into our circle of friends, and am no longer limited to sucking my own cock and having to use the dildo up my ass. Many times, while enthusi- astically engaged with one of my old acquaintances and some of my newly found friends, I close my eyes and as their cocks swell and cum in my mouth or my asshole I pretend that it is Harold. The future now seems secure. With their cock in me I look longingly toward heaven, I say, "Good bye, Harold, my lover." * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime, so take good care of it! * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Kristen's collection - Directory 12