Men. Gotta love 'em -- whenever they'll let you. Leave if you shouldn't stay. This story is Copyright 2014 by Soaringtoad. No reproduction or distribution other than Nifty Archives, please, without the author's permission.


Mr. Collins

I felt myself get all watery inside, as I rang the doorbell. I was terrified but full of longing. My dick was hard and my balls were pulled up tight: had I read him right? Should I just make some excuse and leave? My nerve was failing. I was ready to flee, when the door opened and I saw his face. Saw his friendly, smiling face. The longing rose higher, and even my ass grew hungry, as I gaped at him and went stupid.

"Hey, c'mon in! Want a coke or something?" I gaped a moment longer, before collecting myself and smiling back.

"S-sh-sure, sounds great," I chirped, even sounding nervous to myself. "You said maybe I'd like to come... come over, I mean."

"Both, hopefully."

Something got huge inside of me and pushed all the air out of my lungs. I felt my face going red. My need and longing must have shown.

"Say, do you want that coke, or do you just want to come out to the garage?" Now he had a look, too: desire. Urgency.

"Both. I'd like both. If that's okay?"

"That's perfect," he smiled. His smile comforted me, letting me concentrate more on my desire and less on the fear. Desire, fear, whatever: my balls were still shrunk up. Craving. Balls, ass, dick, heart: craving. I let out a little noise and he looked like he picked it up.

"Ice?" I was gaping, again. He smiled: "In the can or in a glass with some ice?"

Suddenly, I found myself hilarious. "In a glass," I giggled, "Then let's go to your garage."

Stepping through the door, it smelled like wood. Wood and man. Very cute man. Man I want to suck. Man I want to crawl into and be close to. Be had by.

Man I want to smell. Man I want to taste. Man I want to be with.

Man I find myself trembling against, as he cups me with his big hand and kisses me tenderly.

I whimper as he explores my extreme hardness, as he holds me to him, squeezing my boner, as his warmth and his after shave blanket me, envelop me, the faint odor of his body destroying my ability to make thoughts. I cling to him and whimper my desperation.

"Aww, Sweetie," he croons, "It's okay. It's gonna be just wonderful." He touches his finger to my lips, making me want to suck, and follows with a tiny, gentle kiss.

"What would you like? What would please you?"

"Suck. I want to suck."

"Suck each other?"

"I need to suck you. I haven't been able to think of anything else for days. I can hardly sleep. My dick is sore from... thinking about you... yours."

"Okay," he said, sweetly, "Okay, but I'm gonna want to suck you too." Maybe to take away a little bit of my shame?

He sat me on the couch and stood facing me. "Give me your hands," and when I did, he put them on the waistband of his gym shorts. I took the hint and began to pull them down. A beautiful fit belly, lightly furry. I lifted his shirt: more of the same. More beautiful, fit man, two broad, manly nipples. He took the hint and shucked off the shirt, letting my eyes feast on his beautiful manliness. I drew down the shorts, exposing the waistband of his soft, baby blue briefs, the tops of his lightly furry thighs, exposing the bulge of his big, chubby man penis and huge bouncy balls. I felt myself breathing something from him, something deeply good, something drawing me, something compelling me to press my face to his manliness, to inhale him, to tremblingly mouth the big spongy man shaft through his briefs. Something irresistible was drawing me to reach him and have him. I pulled down the briefs. His bigness flopped forward, as I pulled them down, then his beautiful balls, snugged up and furry, and happy and inviting.

My lips moved toward him. I just let my body go on its own. It gobbled at his gorgeous meat. Kissing and mouthing. I smelled him and pressed my face into the softness, into the gathering firmness of him, into the rising heat, the lengthening, the growing bigness. I pointed him at my lips, touched them prayerfully to his tip, and began to suck. First the voluptuous tender head, sweet and boyish, the ridge I'd dreamed of, and then, unable to delay further, the length of his shaft, sliding between my greedy lips, growing, head tickly-full in my mouth, his furriness growing closer, his shaft swelling and lengthening, filling me as I strove to take him all and his tender head filled my throat. I moaned and butted helplessly against him, suckling, forcing more of him deeper, 'till I could gulp and swallow his spongy bigness deep in my throat. His bigness hardened more and curved up to celebrate my sucking. I heard him moan, heard him call me "Baby," felt my own boner, as it pulsed in my pants. Fulfillment, joy, completeness, deep gratitude, deepening need.

My mouth was full, my throat, my soul. I couldn't talk, but I could cry out in my mind: "Man Dick, Big Beautiful Tender Man Penis, Big Penis, Penis, Man Penis, Soft, Hard, I'm Sucking Man Penis," big slimy sweet man penis, hard, upcurving. Pulling off to savor the head, its shape, texture, his slippery man fluid. Sliding down to nestle him at the entrance of my throat, at the altar of my soul. Sucking as he moaned, as he whimpered "Sweetie, Here," and tenderly gave me his load, gave me his thick manly cream, in huge pumping gifts that I took gladly to the core of me.

I was trembling as he finished pumping his cream, as he gathered his wits and lifted me, stripped me, engulfed me, possessing and sucking, cupping and spreading and fingering me to a dizzying paroxysm of being loved and cared for and taken over the edge by a big, gentle man, his taste still on my grateful lips.

Then I cried and he kissed and petted me. Better now. So, so much better.

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