CUM!!!
 
Bet you cant eat it just once!
 
Mark was one of the most popular boys in the eighth grade - a tall,
dark-skinned blond with a sexy, sinous body and beautiful blue eyes.  His
father was a Navy man, a real hunk, and you could tell that Mark would look
like him one day.
 
One afternoon, Mark and I jerked each other off, and after he shot his
load, the head of his dick glistened with a few precious drops of cum.  I
bent down and licked them off his glans.  His cum tasted sweet, delicious.
My tongue curled around the head of his spent cock, and I relished the
remaining semen dripping from his piss-slit.
 
That was it, I was hooked.
 
He soon learned that I would do almost anything for a taste of his cum, I
let him explore my ass with his fingers, and inevitably my asshole lost its
virginity to his stiff prick.  I tongued his balls and ass.  I serviced his
cock and a few of his buddies cocks as well. The first time I had to take
Mark's hot load directly down my throat, I was so fucking turned on I came
in my jeans without ever once touching my prick. I loved the feeling of his
cream shooting against my tonsils.

Sometimes, he stood in front of me and jerked off.  After orgasming, he
held his cum-drenched hand a few inches from my nose and mouth, and I could
smell his sap.  I slurped it off his fingers.  He didn't share my
enthusiasm for cum.  One time, he tasted mine, grimaced, spat it out, and
declared, 'It tastes like shit.'

Unfortunately, our relationship was brief. In the middle of our freshman
year of high school, Mark moved away. For a long time, I felt sad - I'd
begun to love him in a very physical, though somewhat adolescent way.

My first three years in high school were pretty lean.  I was surrounded by
young, hot studs, and I was so constantly fucking horny that my gut felt
like it was going to bust. At night, I had graphic dreams of lying naked on
my back in the showers with a dozen of the best looking studs in the school
beating their meat over me and shooting their wads in unison until I was
sopping with their fuck sauce.

Then in my senior year, I discovered public restrooms, and for many months
I happily drowned in the cum of several dozen different men.  There was the
tall, strapping Texan who - true to his state's reputation for the biggest,
the best, and the most -crammed my mouth full of more cum than I had ever
seen from one dick. There was Bob, a diabetic whose cum tasted incredibly
sweet like a piece of candy. There was Matt from Frissco.

He tied my wrists with his heavy leather belt and made me lick his cum off
his black boots.  There was a rigging engineer, Tom who I sucked off
through his underwear and whose cum I then ate off the inside of his jockey
shorts.

There were fat dicks, skinny dicks, short ones, awesomely long ones,
beautiful ones, not-so-beautiful ones. There was cum that tasted of various
foods, sour cum, sweet cum, tasteless cum, cum that burned my mouth, cum
that shot six feet in the air, cum that oozed out slowly, cum that spurted
in heavy gobs, and cum that sprayed in a fine shower.

I loved all different kinds of cum for all different kinds of reasons, but
just as a gourmet becomes more discriminating the more he eats, I too
became more particular, I avoided men who were heavy drinkers or who were
unusally tense all the time or who were taking certain kinds of medication
like antibotics or tranquilizers - their cum was always bitter, sometimes
completely inedible.  I learned that Italians and Jews have the best
tasting cum, and that contraty to popular mythology, the taste of a man's
cum has absolutely nothing to do with his age. I learned that men who are
relaxed and happy have larger loads than men who are uptight or really
depressed, and men who have inhibitions about their sexuality don't shoot
their loads very far.  Latins have the thickest, creamiest (and warmest)
cum; blacks have more cum than anyone; Orientals have the saltiest cum; and
the cum of most Scandinavians has a mellow and refreshing flavor.

During these months, I become a true connoisseur of cum, able to tell how
much of a load a guy had, what it tasted like, and how it shot out - just
my looking at him.
 
By now I was in college and my roomate was a twenty year-old, blond,
six-foot-two, Rocky Mountain boy named Jack.  It was about six weeks before
we got our signals straight and realized we were both hot for one another.
As it turned out, he was as cum-obsessed as I was - but where I was
obsessed with other guy's cum, Jack was obsessed with his own, seeing it as
some kind of liquid essence of his soul.
 
He liked taking his half-ton pickup out into the woods outside of town and,
once there, smoking a few joints and drinking a couple of six packs.  He
was a quiet but intense man, giving but also demanding.  His favorite
turn-on was to order me to get out of the truck, strip down and beat off in
the truck's headlights.  He'd sit behind the wheel, working his own piece
of meat, and once he had gotten off, he'd call me back to the truck and
push my head down to his crotch where the fly of his jeans shimmered with
cum.  My tongue would search out every drop between the hard, steel buttons
of his fly.

Two of his other favorite turn-ons were: jerking off and then smearing his
cum all over his asshole and making me suck it out from between his butt
cheeks, or fucking me with a condom over his cock and then turning the
jism-filled rubber inside out and teasing my mouth with it.
 
I was very happy with our relationship, even though I didn't love him or
anything like that, and I was disappointed when, after six minths, he quit
school and moved back to Colorado to manage his parents ranch.
 
About a month after he left, I recieved a card from him postmarked Greeley
Colorado.  On it, he had written: 'What can a jelly bean do that you
can't?' And then, a few inches below that: 'Come in different colors. Take
care. Your friend, Jack.'