Clint Carlisle's Erotic Memoir, 1

Clint Carlisle

Copyright Clint Carlisle, 2015.

The following is a work of fiction. All people and places are fictional or they are used here fictitiously.


My name is Clint. I like having sex with men. I also like writing. In writing circles, people often say, "write what you know." I guess that's why Stephen King's writes about writers in Maine and Grisham writes about lawyers in Mississippi. Me, I'm fairly young and I've led a libidinous life and enjoyed the fuck out of it. I like men, and I like doing dirty things to them, and I've been pretty successful at that. So I'm going to tell you about that.

I plan to write quite frankly about sex. I'm telling you now so you know to either get out now or to write down my name and buy everything I write. It's Clint Carlisle. And I'm not a rich guy so, you know, tell your friends. That's Clint Carlisle.

I view sex as one of the few universal aspects of the human experience, and it's a part of life frequently ignored or mishandled in literature. Since I have the experience and I don't blush when I talk about gay sex, I guess it falls to me to write about it.

I want to tell you about some of the sexy adventures I had back when I was about 27. It was the fall semester and I was teaching honors calculus. I was also working on a PhD in math.

I don't think I was anything all that special in the looks department. I had a fairly average body. Slim but not muscular. My hair was a kind of golden blond and perfectly straight. My best feature was undoubtedly my face. It certainly wasn't my abs or biceps. My face brought me all the action I wanted in those days.

It could feel a bit strange at times to be so close in age to your students. They where an attractive group. I guess most men would say that the females were pretty and one or two were quite hot. However, I would focus more on the guys.

It's fun to look and to imagine, but I knew that way lay danger.

Sometimes, I wondered if they could tell I was gay. I don't think I'm the most obvious gay man. When I had conversations with people I happened to be seated next to on an airplane, they tended to casually assume I was straight if it came up: "Traveling on business? No girlfriend I see."

I had asked friends if they knew immediately and they said they had considered the question but couldn't figure it out. Even so, I was quite unapologetically gay and I had been for years. Being less "gay-seeming" than others wasn't a matter of trying to hide being gay. It was just who I was.

One thing you'll learn about me is I don't have a type. I have a dozen types. I could tell you I especially love Asian guys because of their smooth, gentle features and their hairless perky butts, and that's true. I've gone that way more than a few times.

But oh how I love latin boys. I could tell you about this latin boy I knew. He was trim and firm, and he wore skinny jeans and one of those straw fedoras they wear and a smirk. Always a smirk. He was from Puerto Rico, and he definitely had a few screws loose. We had a casual thing for a while, and sometimes he would just randomly come over without notice. One time, he came over just like that. No phone call. No text message. He just showed up at my door.

I let him in and he grabbed my dick through my pants.

He took his hat off and sat it on the sofa, and he pulled off his shirt and he started kissing me.

He unzipped my pants and pulled my dick out. Then he bent down on his knees and started sucking me. He liked to suck me. He'd come over sometimes just to suck my dick. Really!

"Take off your pants," I said.

He looked up at my face, my dick still in his mouth. Then he pulled back. "I don't have long time," he said. His English wasn't so good.

I wanted to rim him. He had a really nice butt.

"You don't have to stay long," I said. "Just take your pants off."

Suddenly he stood up and put his shirt back on.

"I have to search something in my car," he said. He hurried out the door leaving his hat behind.

Five minutes later, he sent me a text message. "I don't like be told to do things."

He was gone.

Anyway, I put up with that kind of crazy because his dick could do no wrong--that is, on those occasions when he decided of his own accord to use it on me. I'll tell you all about him some day.

Also, I've had my share of all-American white guys. Nerdy guys. Fratty guys. Beefy guys with fur all over their chests and asses.

I've been with black guys certainly. In my experience, they do tend to have incredibly big dicks. Once a black guy told me it was just a myth that black men have bigger dicks. No. It really isn't. Jesus Christ! I've seen some monsters on black men. But it takes a lot more than a big dick to make for a memorable sexual encounter.

I'm not crazy about European men. Never met a Frenchman I liked. I fucking hate British accents. I'd be all over a Czech guy if the opportunity arose.

I had never been with an Indian guy or an Arab guy. And I mean Indian as in from the country India, but I'd also never been with a "native American" guy. (I hate that phrase. They are no more "native" than I am, but we still don't have a better phrase that I'm aware of.)

Some people would probably call me a slut. Or maybe some gay word for it that I don't know. Youthes are always inventing new words for things that we already have words for. Sometimes, though, they do coin useful new descriptors. I recently learned that young gay men use "thirsty" to mean something like "horny and desperate". I'm not sure I like the word, but it's certainly a compelling description, and I can't think of a better way to capture the idea in one word.

I guess I've been thirsty before, but not recently. Maybe back when I was 17 and in denial about being gay. I'm not going to tell you that story because it's like every other gay man's story. I was a boy. I realized I liked other boys. I could tell my family and friends frowned upon this. I got over it. I'm sure there are whole walls of books, however poorly written, that tell that same story over and over.

My attitude toward such things has been about the same since I was 20 or so: I don't give a rat's ass if people think it's slutty to sleep around with guys, to have sex with a guy I just met, to let a guy fuck me and never see him again. It's just not this dire, dramatic, important thing everyone makes it out to me. It's a fun way to spend an evening.

I don't much care about society's conventions or what people think. You'll learn that about me. Or you won't. I don't care.


I was cruising Grindr on a Friday night. I had finished four beers, and I was watching porn alone in my living room. Naked.

I used a face pic on Grindr because my face was my best feature. It tended to get me as much action as I wanted.

I had exchanged a few messages with a guy who looked kinda cute, but I was pretty sure he was just going to jerk me around and leave me with my dick in my hand.

Suddenly I received a message from someone new. It said, "wanna fuk?" There was no picture, and the profile said the guy was 55. Receiving a new message on Grindr isn't typically a reason to get excited. I blocked him.

I noticed a cute Asian guy came online, so I sent him a simple "hey".

He wrote me back quickly. "Hey."

Asian Guy's profile pic was his adorable smiling face. My guess was that he was Filipino. It said he was 19 years old.

"Cute pic," I said. "What brings you to Grindr."

Just from the face pic I could tell he would be tiny and fit.

"I want to meet guys," he said.

Don't we all.

He sent me a pic of his dick. It looked pretty big for an Asian guy.

"Nice," I said. "Do you top?"

"Yes," he said. "But I don't have much experience."

I grabbed some lube and began fondling myself while I sent Asian Guy another message: "What's your name?"

"Ryan," he said.

Ryan, I thought. Maybe he's American.

"What do you like to do?" he said.

"I bottom. Love oral."

He hadn't shown me a pic of his butt, but I knew it would be hot. Imagining it, I added, "I also love rimming."

After I sent that, Ryan responded with a pic of his butt. It did indeed look like quite a tasty treat--smooth and tight like two handfuls of rounded muscular man meat.

"Wanna come over?" I wrote.

I was beginning to feel tipsy from the beer. No way I was going to his place. My dick was hard in my hand now.

"What do you want to do?" he asked.

"We can just relax and see where it goes," I said.

With a few more messages exchanged, we decided that he would come over, and I gave him my address

While waiting for him to arrive, I picked up some dirty clothes from my living room floor and threw them in the back of my closet.

Having tidied up a bit, the space looked inviting. I left the gay porn playing on the TV, muted.

Ryan knocked at my door. I looked out the peep hole, and then I opened the door, hiding myself behind it below the waist because I was still naked.

"Hi, Ryan," I said. "Come in."

He was short, maybe 5'5''. I had expected that. Also, I kinda like short guys. He was just as cute in person as in his picture.

Ryan seemed to absorb my nudity in an instant without comment.

"Hey Clint," he said. He smiled at me with his squinty eyes.. Hey definitely wasn't American. I could tell from his voice.

He was thin, small of frame. Very bright, friendly smile. He wore skintight jeans and a too-small t-shirt and a baseball cap.

I invited him to sit on the sofa. He sat and I asked if I could get him water or a beer.

"Beer, thanks," he said.

Ryan watched the porn playing on the TV. A somewhat nerdy looking guy was kneeling in the middle of three guys who were all jacking off just waiting to cum on his face.

I opened a bottle of Corona for both of us and handed Ryan one and sat beside him. He took a sip of it immediately and said thanks.

We sat for silent for a moment.

"Are you...nervous about this?" I asked.

He offered a weak smile. "A little."

Then he grinned big and said, "I didn't expect you to be naked."

My dick was soft. I was just sitting beside him casually now.

He took another pull from the beer.

"Does it make you nervous that I'm naked?" I said.

He laughed, maybe a little more comfortable than before. "No. I've seen naked men before. Are you naked for me? Or do you like to be naked at home?"

"I just like to be naked at home," I said.

He nodded.

"Where are you from?" I asked.

"You should guess!" he said.

I wished he would join me and be naked with me. Also, I had very little confidence in my ability to guess where he was from.

"I don't know Asian countries that well," I said.

I made an effort to speak simply and enunciate clearly, but Ryan seemed to have no trouble understanding my English.

"Guess," he insisted.

I sighed. "Don't be offended by my ignorance." I thought for a moment. "I don't think you are Chinese or Japanese. I don't know why. You just don't look like them."

Since I had met very beautiful men from Thailand, and this boy was very beautiful, I said, "I guess maybe you are from Thailand."

"You are close," he said. "I'm from Malaysia."

He smiled at me. He looked very pleased with me. I felt silly that I had guessed wrong, but he seemed impressed that I was close. I had only a fuzzy idea that Malaysia was somewhere near Australia.

He noticed an envelope that was lying unopened on the coffee table.

"This is from the court?" he said.

I nodded. It had arrived certified mail that day from the Clerk of Court.

He looked at me puzzled. "You don't open it? Isn't it important?"

"It's from the government," I said. "Nothing they do is important."

I could guess fairly well what was going on behind his eyes. Was this a cultural difference or was I just weird.

"Maybe somebody is suing you at court," he said, and now his puzzlement turned to amusement--not at my hypothetical misfortune, but at my attitude toward it.

"Could be," I said. "I guess if they want me in a courtroom they can send goons to drag me there."

He continued sipping the beer, and I think just the one beer was already having an effect on him, as you might imagine for someone that young.

"Can I touch your dick?" he said.

I smiled and suppressed a laugh. "Yes."

He reached over gingerly. He tugged on it and it started to get hard.

"It's so big," he said.

I just smiled at him. Then I said, "You've been with other guys, right?"

"Yes," he said. "Three other guys. But I'm still nervous."

"Wanna take your clothes off?" I said.

"Do you have a roommate?" he asked. I guess he was afraid someone else might walk in on us.

"No. I live alone."

He took of his baseball cap revealing very short inky black hair, then he pulled his shirt off over his head and lay them both on the coffee table in front of us.

He sat there brown and cute and shirtless. He was taut and smooth and hairless.

He unbuttoned the front of his pants and then he glanced up at me as if to say, "Are you sure I can get naked?"

"Go ahead!" I said with a big smile. "Relax. Take it off. My home is clothing optional."

He unzipped his jeans and pushed them down, revealing tiny tight red briefs. Without standing up, he lifted his butt up off the sofa and pushed his jeans off and over his legs and then left then folded them and put them with his clothes on the table.

He stood suddenly, picked up his beer, and walked over to my bookcase. I had candles burning on the top of it. I like mood lighting. He probably thought I had lit them because he was coming over. No. I just liked candles. I often lit candles when I was home alone. They'd been lit since around 6 PM--around the same time I arrived home and dropped all my clothes for the night.

He browsed the titles I had on display there. On the living room bookcase I kept novels, history books, books on police procedure and cookbooks. I have eclectic tastes. Oh, also I had about a dozen books of photos of glossy male nudes (for--you know--art). George Platt Lynes and Paul Freeman were undoubtedly my favorites.

"Oh, you're an Anne Rice fan?" he said.

There were like fifty great novels on that bookcase, all of which I bought because I loved them. The Old Man and the Sea. Anna Karenina. Dune. Fahrenheit 451. Stephen King's Dark Tower series. But yeah, I guess since I had two Anne Rice books you could say I was a fan.

"I think The Witching Hour is her best work that I've read," I said.

"I like books with vampires," he said, and he turned over his shoulder and flashed a smile. Row of compact, even teeth. Just like Vronsky. Anna Karenina reference. If Tolstoy never wrote anything else but Anna Karenina I'd still think he was the greatest master of characterization that ever lived.

Ryan sipped his beer and I stared at his ass in those tight briefs, my head tilting like a corkscrew as I imagined pushing my tongue in there.

He pulled Freeman's Bondi Work and began flipping through it. His eyebrows raised in delight.

He said something I couldn't understand, but I'd bet it's how you say 'fuck!' in Malaysian.

Naked manly men with tools.

Ryan put the book back and ran his hand over my nude men collection. They were all oversized, glossy books full of photos. "All porn?" he said.

"It's not porn. It's art."

He squinted at me and pulled a different one. He opened it and flipped through it, and then turned the book around to show me a two-page layout of three guys in a circle-suck.

"OK, that one is porn," I said. "But it's vintage," I added.

He looked puzzled. "What does that mean--vintage?"

I'm not good at circumnavigating words someone doesn't know. My mom could do that. She married a foreign man late in life and spent months traveling abroad with him. Whenever I'm talking with him, I often turn to her to help me explain when I am unable to communicate with him because his English is still somewhat less than fluent.

I squinted and tried to think in simple words. "It means...things from the past. Americans like things from the past. I think those pictures are from the 1970s."

I could tell just from the haircuts that those photos were taken in the 70s.

"Cultural differences," I said.

I like how that happens sometimes. I was naked and he was wearing just skimpy red briefs, but that moment between us hadn't been about sex. We were just talking.

He picked up a decorative box from one of the shelves. "Cool," he said. "Where is this from?"

It was an Egyptian mother of pearl box about the size of a man's palm. Quite stunning. They always draw the eyes of guests.

"It was a gift," I said. "My mother bought it for me. It's from Egypt"

He put it back down and came to sit by me again.

He had finished his beer. He sat it on the table. I brought him another without asking, and he thanked me with a gracious nod almost like a bow.

I reached over and caressed the bulge in his pants. He tensed suddenly.

Sometimes I forget that when you're that young sex is SUPER EXCITING but it can also be terrifying.

"Relax," I said. "You can just sit there and sip your beer."

He seemed to like that suggestion. He sat and looked forward, sipping the beer, and I caressed him and felt the bulge get bigger.

For the record, I wasn't trying to get him drunk. I just know a little alcohol can help a guy relax when he's tense. I think he was barely on the edge of tipsy by this point.

I've always had a thing for Asian guys. I love their compact bodies and their peachy butts. I love their smooth, small facial features. They look like they've been smoothed by centuries of flowing water like the rocks on the bed of a river.

Ryan had very kissable lips, but I wasn't sure about kissing him. He might not like that yet.

I knelt down on the floor in front of him between his legs and I pulled down his briefs. His dick popped right out at me. I smiled. It was about 5 inches long with a big bulbous head.

I slipped it into my mouth slowly, gently caressing the shaft with my tongue.

I tried to see if I could get it all down my throat. I got all but about an inch of it down, but when I tried to push further, I gagged a little and had to come up for air.

"Are you OK?" he said.

I laughed. "Yes," I said. I was just too ambitious. "I tried to put too much in my mouth."

I tweaked his nipples with both hands. I felt a jolt through his whole body. I could tell he loved that. Some guys have exquisitely sensitive nipples, and a light caress drives them crazy. Some guys love it when you bite their nipples. For some guys, the nipples just aren't in play. It doesn't nothing for them.

You can often tell a guy who loves having his nipples played with because he'll go for your nipples. Oy. Yeah. I've been with a lot of guys. I know of what I speak.

I grabbed the waist of his briefs and pulled them. He raised himself up so I could pull them off. I pulled them down over his butt and he raised his legs up in the air as I pulled the briefs all the way off finally and he sat, finally, naked on my couch.

Then he grabbed his baseball cap from the coffee table and put it back on.

I laughed at him.

I was hard to say the least.

He sipped his beer and I went down and licked his balls. His crotch was an untamed bush. I pushed his dick down my throat again, and this time he thrust in a little with his hips. I cupped his balls in my hand. Then I felt him push just a little further past the back of my mouth and the head of his dick was deep in my throat. My face was buried in his dense, obsidian-black bush. I always loved burying my face in a guy's bush.

"You like it?" he said.

I moaned with delight the best I could with a dick balls deep in my face. Then I tweaked his nipples again, hard. He jerked and thrust his hips into me.

"I think that means yes," he said.

He began to bob slowly, gently in and out of my mouth, thrusting with only the slightest movement as if he wasn't even aware he was doing it.

I held his thighs in both hands. So deliciously smooth.

He moaned softly. "That's really nice," he said.

He continued that gentle undulation of his hips, smooth like a ship rocking on the sea.

I pressed my tongue against the underside of his shaft, and with a gentle movement of my hands against his hips I encouraged his rocking motion.

He fucked my face, and I thought the things a man thinks when he has a dick in his mouth: I have a fucking dick in my mouth! God damn I love dick. Keep the teeth off it. He's enjoying it. I can tell.

I sat up and pulled one of his hairs out of my mouth.

He looked completely game for whatever I was doing next.

"Come to my room," I said.

He followed me, and in my room, he stood in front of me, turned his hat around backward. Naked except for the hat. Hot. I had to remember that one. Maybe next time I'd answer the door wearing a hat.

He kissed me on the lips. Deeply. Excited. He had long forgotten to be nervous.

I cupped his butt in my hands. So tiny and perfectly formed. I pulled those cheeks to me while we kissed.

He really was a beautiful boy. Such a tight, narrow waist. Hairless, enticing butt. Both firm to the touch. And all over his brown-yellow skin.

"Wanna face fuck me harder?" I said.

From the briefest glimmer of hesitation on his face, I surmised that nobody had asked him to do that before. I guess the idea was pretty self-explanatory.

I've always loved the idea of a man thrusting his dick in my face for his own pleasure. I don't know why. Dicks are hot. Men are hot. I love being able to pleasure them. Plus I just love the feel of a dick in my mouth.

I lay on my bed and propped my head up on a pillow against the wall. Ryan walked on his knees until his dick was resting on my cheek.

I opened my mouth wide and he poked it in. I grabbed his ass cheeks in both hands as he pushed slowly down my throat. He thrust in balls-deep.

He began the old in-and-out with timid, gentle strokes. Slowly in. Slowly out. I grabbed his hips to push and encourage him. Deeper, faster. He took the hint gleefully, and within moments he was ramming it down my throat. Plowing me like a horny 19-year-old boy.

"Uhhh...uhhhh." His moaning was almost like an expression of pain. "Ahhh! Ahh!"

I could taste his precum.

He changed tack suddenly and began pushing in with long, slow strokes again. I could tell he was just doing what his dick wanted. That's what makes for a good time in bed by the way.

He was panting heavily now and I was beginning to think he might cum in my mouth--which would be fine except that I didn't want it to end that quickly.

He read my thoughts and pulled out.

"That was hot," he said. "I was pretty close but I didn't want to cum already."

Without another word, he turned himself around so he was straddling me the other way and he began sucking me.

That beautiful, perfectly smooth, dewy, brown-yellow butt was right in my face like a birthday present.

He was deep-throating my cock. That's a fine skill to have, but having my cock sucked never did much for me. I was much more excited about having that luscious butt within reach of my tongue.

I grabbed his thighs and pulled him backward into my face. I thrust my tongue in his hole and he gasped as well as he could with a mouth full of dick.

I pushed my face between his cheeks and licked him like an ice cream cone.

By the way, I was still pretty drunk by this point. I'd been drinking since 6 PM, around the same time I dropped my pants and lit some candles for mood lighting. I didn't drink to get shitfaced like some frat boy. But I liked a nice buzz.

I could just eat Ryan's ass all day. Or just put me in a room with hot Asian guys like Ryan and let them take turns on me one after another.

He pulled up off my dick. Now he was just thinking about me eating his ass. He raised up on his knees and then sat his butt down on my face.

"That feels so fucking good," he said.

"Aigmmn hummmnummrgh llluummnn," I said.

He started jerked his dick. I was jerking mine, and I already felt that slow build up of tension.

"Fuck!" he said. "Do that thing again--the thing you just did."

The bed shook with the fast, rhythmic pumping of his hips as he beat off. (No bedspring sex sounds though. My mattress was all foam.)

"I'm gonna cum," he said. "Do you have a towel or something?"

"Just turn around," I said.

He turned at the waist to look over his shoulder.

"No, I mean straddle me the other way."

He turned himself around and I lay myself down flat between his legs with my face underneath his dick.

"Cum on my face," I said.



He resumed jerking his meat, and with his other hand he ran his fingers through my hair. Then he grabbed a handful of my hair roughly.

He was panting now and jerking himself hard and fast.

The panting quickened. Then I felt his hot cum hit my forehead. Then my cheek. He was aiming now. He shot on my other cheek. The my lips. I opened my mouth and he still had more for me. He gave me a spurt right in the mouth. Then he exhaled deeply and relaxed. His body wilted on top of me and he let his head hang for a moment.

I was still jacking, and I felt like it was still gonna take some work to get me there.

He saw I was still jerking it, so he bent down and bit my nipple timidly. I exhaled with pleasure.

"You like that?" he asked.

Oh yeah I did. Suddenly I already felt like I could cum any minute and I'd hit the ceiling.

"Yeah," I said, panting. "But you can be rougher."

"Roofer?" he said.

"Bite me harder," I said.

He smiled because he understood.

He bent down again and this time he bit hard. It hurt. In a good way. And it sent me over the edge.

"Don't," I said.

"Stop," I said.

He kept biting while I panted and squirmed.

Ryan was no dummy. He could see I liked it a lot better when was rough with me. He was still grinding my nipple with his teeth and he reached his hand over to pinch the other one with his fingernails. Hard.

That was the end of it. I shot my load anywhere it landed. Spurt after spurt. Ryan kept grinding his teeth on my nipple while I came, and I screamed.

After it was over, I just lay there exhausted, still panting, my heart racing. Ryan threw himself down on the bed beside me.

He dipped some of my cum off my belly with his finger and licked it clean.

My face was covered with his cum, and my belly was covered with my own.

We lay side by side until we both stopped panting and we were just staring up at my bedroom ceiling. It was covered in random wavy plaster lines. I don't know how they do that, but when I stared up into it I saw faces sometimes. I'm sure it's just human nature to see human faces in randomness.

"Did you have fun," Ryan said.

Fuck yes I had fun, I thought.

"Fuck yes I had fun," I said.

He turned his head to look at me. "Even though I didn't fuck you?"

"Yes," I said. I doubted he believed me completely, so I pulled his lips to mine and kissed him.

Ryan slept over with me that night. That was really fucking rare for me. I usually sent guys home afterward. But I liked Ryan.

We both slept naked and we spooned for a while. I was the outer spoon. I cupped his dick and balls in my hand just for fun. It was hard to feel his butt pressed against me and not go down there and lick it, but sleep was getting the better of me.

Eventually, I turned to sleep on my back.

Ryan woke me up sometime after dawn. "Clint," he was saying. Gently repeating my name.

As I swam toward consciousness, I felt a heavy weight on top of me. I was still on my back, and I was wearing my eye mask that I always wore to sleep.

I took off the mask and saw Ryan straddling my chest. He was still naked, and he was smiling down at me and his dick was hard. It was floating just above my face.

He saw that I was slowly waking up. He pushed his dick into my cheek and then across my lips. I stuck my tongue out and he rubbed the underside of his junk against my tongue.

I could tell by the slant and the coolness of the sunlight coming in through the window that it was way earlier than I liked to be awake. Like 7:30 AM maybe? Ugh. No. No to that.

"I have to go," he said. "I had fun. Thanks for inviting me over. I liked sleeping with you."

I think he meant it literally--the sleeping part, not the sex part.

Now he was casually resting the tip of his dick on my lips.

I grabbed it at the base and lifted it just a hair so I could speak.

"I like you," I said.

Sometimes I keep my secrets. Sometimes I'm emotionally transparent. Deal with it.

He gave me a big, open smile, and I let his dick rest on my lips again.

"You like my cock?" he said.

"Yes," I said. "I like your cock."

"And you like my butt," he said. "Maybe you invite me over again soon and you can lick my butt again."

God I hope so! I thought.

"Sit on my face now," I said.

He beamed down at me, and then he turned himself around, awkwardly throwing one knee over me and then the other so that his beautiful Asian butt was right in my face. Then he spread his cheeks with his hands and pushed his hole down on my tongue.

I pushed my tongue in him and he moaned.

"Eat it!" he said. He was starting to understand my tastes.

My pleasure, sir, I thought.

I tongue-fucked his hole, and he almost came with my tongue in his ass, but then he turned around to point his dick in my face and he started jerking it hard. He came, and he shot spurt after spurt of cum on my face.

I just smiled up at him, but he threw his head back in ecstasy.

"You like my cum on your face," he said.

It wasn't a question, and he was right. He scooped up some of his cum from my cheek and he put it in my mouth. "You like that?" he said. "Yes, you do."

He scooped up some more and put it in my mouth.

It was hot and salty, like all cum, but it tasted a little different from mine.

He turned around again and he pushed his asshole into my face. Then he began sucking my dick. I was hard and ready to burst.

Ryan squirmed and pushed his hole down on my tongue.

Now he was just trying to get me off. He knew his ass in my face made my dick hard.

And like I said before, Ryan was a skilled cocksucker. I wondered how much experience he'd had back in Malaysia. Were they open about homosexuality there? Or were they repressed like Christians?

"I'm gonna cum," I said.

I was balls-deep down his throat. I didn't know if he wanted to eat my cum.

But he kept licking the underside of my shaft, and he pushed his butt down on my face.

"Lick my butt," he said.

Gladly, I thought.

"Ghhhamhdeeee," I said.

Then I shot my load down his throat. He kept squirming and pushing his butt down on my face.

I finished unloading my cum deep in his throat, and I felt that euphoric afterglow. I lay back, and I looked up at the smooth curve of Ryan's butt inches from my face.

I lay with my eyes closed then, but I could feel Ryan turning around again to face me. Then I felt his lips touch mine, and I tasted cum in his mouth.

He raised himself up again, still straddling my chest. "Now I really do have to go," he said. His dick was starting to relax and shrink.

"You're fun," I said.

"You are too," he said.


Here on Nifty I will offer free, self-contained short stories. For a richer, longer story and to help support my writing if you like what you have read, please consider buying my Teachers Suck: The Homoerotic Adventures of Clint Carlisle, Volume I on Amazon. It is available for Kindle devices, and you can also read it using the Kindle reader app for a desktop computer.