Skip to main content

Reply to "Straight To Hell (Sex Stories)"

It was Thanksgiving nite 1993 and Faux Pas and I had just had a scrumptious meal at my friend Sara's place in Grammercy Park. I was full of fabulous food, fine wine, and fierce herb. What more could a single twentysomething fella want in New York City at midnite? What? Sex you say? Why yes in deed, don't mind if I do. The nite was that kind of cold that was actually refreshing from being in a pot filled apartment for several hours. The air had that healthy quality, that made you enjoy each crisp breath. I jumped in a taxi and headed to Times Square where I thought I would take in a midnite "movie" at this genius place called The Hollywood Twin at 48th st and 8th ave. Two theatres, one side straight porn, and the other side queer. Well of course I took my seat on the straight side. (For some reason "straight" dick always tastes better than queer cock.) Well the place was filled with all of those people who did the obligatory family thing that day and now needed to blow off some worked up steam, plus the "regulars" that would be there during flood or famine. Nobody was waving their welcome flag at me to join them, so I decided a little trip to the potty and soda machine might be a good thing. The bathrooms were down a staircase in the lobby that was right in the middle of the two theatres. I was busy trying to lite a cigarette and didnt notice I was barrelling down the steps right in the path of where someone was coming up the stairs. We collided, the hots off of my cig exploding onto both of our shirts. After taking care of the immediate problem, we looked at each other. You know that kind of glance into someones eyes that starts off fleeting, but gets stuck, and you can't escape. Without another word, he stepped up to meet me on the stairs and put his mouth against mine. I closed my eyes and let those fat juicy Dominican lips devour my mouth. I thought if this dude fucks like he kisses, I am in some serious danger. I might go absolutely cock crazy. His name was Edwin. He was a little taller than myself, tannish brown skin, big brown eyes, soft curly hair and a fucking monster trying to rip its way out of his pants pressed up against me. After several minutes of tongue hockey, the shiftless, old security guard made his way past us and told us to take it inside. Still without a word, I took him by the hand and led him not to the theatre, but around a corner where a staircase led to a desserted projection room. Edwin took his place about 3 steps above me, and hauled a thick, brown, uncut, 11 inch Dominincan "moronga" from his jeans. He had one of those fat, long, heavy cocks, that even when it was rock hard, had a genius arc to it that made it so fierce to push down my throat. Like the weight of the meat wouldnt let it stand completely up. I sucked that cock for a good two hours, knowing just when to slow down, when I felt it kinda pulse and jerk in my throat. My face was wet with spit and tears.(I love when its so big it makes you cry.)I kept eating that dick, like I had never tasted anything as good in my life. Edwin had huge nuts, and was more than happy to take over blowing himself if I could just help him out by giving his balls a good slobbering. I had never in all my life seen a man who could swallow so much of their own dick, especially with the crazy arc it had. He sucked just like me, like he was THIRSTY. I felt his nuts starting to tighten up, and knew it wouldn't be long. He let that huge cock kinda flop out of his mouth just in time for me to reposition and catch it like a dog in my mouth. Papi's cock started spraying and not knowing why I felt safe in doing it, I drank every drop of his sweet load and then stuck my tongue in his mouth because I knew he was the type that would want to taste his own milk. Edwin was my Papi for almost 2 and a half years. Thru all the lies, and mountains of coke, that dick had me hooked and blind for one hell of a long time. I sucked his dick about 2 months ago. Eddie is older, and for some reason it's like a totally different piece in my mouth. I know thats psychological on my part, but for as FIERCE as that shit was for so long, the spell is sooooooo broken. But memories are usually better than the real thing anyway. Don't you think?
×
×
×
×