Gay for XXX

When I got a look at the script Sal gave me, I about died. I marched right into his office the next day, seething with righteous indignation.

“What the fuck?” I threw the script on his desk. “I’m not doing this.”

Sal smiled, shark-like. “You’ll do what the fuck I tell you, ya fucking fag.”

“But, Sal…”

“Shut your yap.” Sal stood up. His lumpy bald head almost brushed the ceiling. He glowered at me. “Filming for Bad Medicine started this morning. And you’re late. You get your queer ass over to wardrobe right the fuck now, an’ I better not hear no more complaints from you.”
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Let me start out by saying Skip is not special…he is convinced that he somehow bumbled in to his predicament, but honestly he followed a well designed path that yields the same result every time…a guy naked and on his knees, his dick is hard and drooling, and he is agreeing to everything and anything I tell him to get his mouth on my dick. Nothing about his experience was spontaneous, unintentional, or unique to him from my perspective.

First, about me…I am a regular guy, I am bi, and I do have a huge cock. It is about 10.5″ hard; it reaches well past my navel and is so thick I can’t get my hand around it, not even close. When I am with women I am a normal, very patient and passionate lover. The patient part is mandatory, with a dick like mine you have to take it real slow and easy. My only quirk when I am with a lady is I will admit I love being in a good position to see their reaction when my huge hose flops out of my pants…whether I am standing or they are kneeling, I like to see their look of awe and raw lust when they see it for the first time. But otherwise, what I want is good, straight, vanilla sex.
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The essential elements of this story are true, but the names have been changed to protect the not particularly innocent.

I had visited Josh’s apartment five times, the pattern changed very little each time. I would arrive at this place; Josh would say nothing when he opened the door, it was understood what I was required to do. I would strip at the door, leaving my clothes in a pile, then walk to the ‘playroom’ as he called it. Always waiting for me in the playroom was his big screen TV with another selection of his seemingly endless porn collection playing. Josh knew my weakness, and the television always featured huge cocks, huge tits…and always had the desired effect. Josh would leave me back there for ten to fifteen minutes, by the time he finally joined me I would be embarrassingly erect. There is something incredibly humiliating about being naked with a throbbing hardon when the other person is fully dressed. It makes it pretty clear who is in charge.
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The story started off innocently enough, or maybe not so innocently. My story is not complicated, I am a guy who craves servicing really well hung guys. Long, thick cocks…ones that hang and sway when flaccid and draw admiration when hard and proud. A local internet bulletin board makes it very easy to seek this kind of talent, posting an ad for mutual blowjobs generally will get a fair number of like minded guys to respond. However, there is one small catch…while I am very discriminating in what I want, very well endowed only need apply, I am not nearly so blessed. I fall way at the other end of the curve, a rather thin 4.5 inches. I am a tall, fit good looking guy…early 40’s, but really short changed in the shorts so to speak. So, while I could post ad after ad and generally could hook up with the 6 inch and under crowd, the 8 plus inches I craved was not interested in little dicked guys.
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I had been playing tennis for several years without any ’side effects’, but about six months ago I started getting pains in my back after half-an-hour or so of playing. My playing partner suggested I go to this sports masseur he knew, who was supposedly fantastic. I made an appointment and the following Friday at 10 am precisely I turned up at his massage parlour. It was the first time I’d had any sort of massage, so I didn’t know what to expect. His name was Charles and he was a well-built man in his late thirties or early forties and he started by asking me the usual things like how long had I been playing tennis, when did the pains start to appear, could I associate them with an particular physical movement, and so on. The he asked me to strip off down to my boxer shorts and lie face downwards on the bed. His placed his hands either side of my spine below my neck and, using three fingers of each hand to press gently into my flesh, gradually worked his way downwards. Then he reversed the process, returning to my neck.
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I’ve always liked going to bachelor parties and seeing the girls strip down and playing games with the audience like licking whip cream from their tits or playing “feed the kitty”. The girls are usually fun and nobody gets hurt with a little erotic entertainment, especially married guys like me.

Anyway, recently my close gay friend Jeff asked me to attend his bachelor party. He was finally having a formal ceremony with long-time boyfriend and wanted sow his wild oats one last time. Jeff and I have been good friends for years and I said I would come, but I was a little spooked hanging out with a bunch of gay males and I assume, gay male dancers.
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I woke to a blaring headache and the feeling that something had died in my mouth. I cracked my grainy eyes open and shut them immediately. It’s too damn sunny in this fucking apartment, then I remembered and groaned. My apartment wasn’t sunny in the morning; it faced another building. I must have gone out last night.

I sat up, and groaned as a wave of nausea ran through me. I lunged off the bed and blindly followed the sound of running water. Thank God, I praised with my usual desperate religion when I found that the bathroom’s door was open, and within moments, my head was stuck in the toilet and I was puking my guts out. After ten minutes, I finally sat back on my heels, and grimaced, wiping my mouth.
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My eyes just about rolled up into my head when I came on duty and Leon handed me a ticket for a B-6 Cowboy Special.

“I might have to take something to reload this fast unless they’re all content with a mouth job, Leon,” I said as I stripped and started to pour myself into the cowboy costume.

“Naw, that’s why I saved that ticket for you,” Leon said with a short little laugh. “You’ve got the reputation for keepin’ it hard the longest of any we’ve got on the rolls. It’ll mean a good $400 evening for you, with six specials added to the base $100 just for lettin’ ‘em look a ya. Just think of all the dough you’ll be making.”
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The moment I saw Brian’s beautiful cock I knew I had to have him. I knew I wouldn’t rest until I felt that gorgeous hard cock sliding in and out of my wet, hot mouth as he moaned my name. Brian had emailed me after reading one of my stories on literotica. It was a fantasy about dressing up in my wife’s underwear and making love to an eighteen year old guy I had been writing to. Brian’s was one of the few emails form the UK I had received so I decided to reply. I was wearing a pair of Angela’s tight, red, lacy thong panties as I read his email and thought it would be fun to send him a pic. I checked my inbox about an hour later and noticed a reply from him with a file attached. I opened up the attachment and waited as it slowly appeared on my screen. By the time the pic had finished downloading I was almost bursting out of the front of Angela’s panties. It was a pic of him naked and very hard except for a pair of his wife’s see-thru cream panties and a pair of her black stay up stockings. His cock was visible, hard and beautiful through the material. I was in love instantly. I started rubbing myself through the material of the panties as I looked at the incredible image in front of me imaging being with him. I came quickly, my hot cum spurting through the gaps in the red lace and soaking my chest and the panties themselves. I ran my fingers through the cum on my chest before licking it off. I pulled the panties off and licked my cum off them, wishing it was Brian’s cum on my lips. I was hooked straight away.
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I was soaking in sweat, pumped high on adrenalin and ready for cock. But while Paul could well have been a medal contender in the Blow-lympics, I was a complete novice, totally untried and unprepared and would have been laughed out of any qualifying competition.

He seemed to understand this when my nerves took hold as I grasped his throbbing pole, an impressive seven incher (he claimed eight!) although not as thick as mine. “Just try,” he prompted as I struggled to come to terms with my predicament. I wanted this cock in my mouth, and I wanted it now, but what the hell do you do?
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