“So you choke on it. Who gives a damn? You’ll learn. You’ll learn how to handle it quick enough. But you’ll never learn how until you give it a try. Now, quit fucking around. Get your mouth down on my dick and start sucking.”
“Since when do I take orders from you?” I blustered.
“Since now. Are you going to suck it, or am I going to have to make you suck it?”
He stood there, like me nude except for his jockstrap, with his hands balled into fists, but resting at his sides. His skin was flushed red as a result of our recent mutual physical exertions, and it was beaded with sweat. His cock pushed the pouch of his athletic supporter outward, away from his groin. The exposed glans of his penis looked huge, like a round, purplish-red, and absolutely inflexible ball. I found it hard to believe I’d taken that hefty object up my ass!
But I had taken it. He’d fucked me, and I’d enjoyed it, and I’d begged him to fuck me. My ass was twitching, eager for a repeat of the experience. And now, it looked as though my mouth was going to be similarly initiated.
I had to admit it. He looked damn hot! And the mere thought of putting his cock inside my mouth, of sucking it, sent a surge of lust through me. But I wasn’t going to give in to him too easily. I had my pride, after all.
I almost retorted that, yeah, he was going to have to make me suck him—if he was man enough. But then I remembered the stories Renzo had told me about how he’d been forced to have sex in prison. He’d been raped—“turned out,” as he’d put it—compelled, willy-nilly, to become another man’s bitch. My gut instinct warned me that Renzo was perfectly capable of applying the lessons he’d learned in the slammer to our present situation. I wouldn’t have put it past the horny son of a bitch to rape me!
He’d asked me, a moment ago, whom I thought I was kidding. And he was right. I did want to suck his cock! I was afraid, all right. But I was afraid not that I might choke on his stiff dick, not that I might even puke while trying to blow him … no, I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to do it correctly. That I wouldn’t be able to satisfy him!
Jesus! Here I’d had my very first sexual experience with another guy only a few days previously. But now I was already worrying about whether I was gay enough, so to speak!
And, worse … the thought of Renzo raping me, forcing me to have sex with him, to submit to him and service him, like a bitch, like a whore … that only excited me!
“Fuck,” I heard myself mutter, under my breath.
“No, not ‘fuck.’ Not this time. Not yet, anyway. ‘Suck’—that’s more like it,” Renzo said, correcting me. “You’re going to suck my cock, and you’re to like it.”
“Please, Renzo. Can’t we take it easy? Let’s go slow.”
“My balls are already in a fucking uproar,” he informed me. “I really need to blow my load.”
“I’ll help you,” I volunteered. “I can give you a hand job … or you can fuck me again.” I remembered how good his cock had felt, reaming out my ass. I was perfectly willing to experience that again!
“Thanks for being so cooperative,” he said, sarcastically. “Not like you’ve got much choice! Now, I told you I want my cock sucked, and you’re going to suck it. All right?”
I still had some vestiges of pride. I resented his domineering attitude, his taking it for granted that I was willing to do anything to service him, sexually. And his erection hadn’t subsided in the least. Eyeing it, jutting up and out from his hairy groin like a phallic flagpole, I still had trouble imagining it being comfortably contained inside my mouth. I was sure I’d choke, or puke, on its bulk.
“Fuck you,” I retorted. “Go to hell!”
Talk about wrong answer! Renzo didn’t seem to react with anger. He just went on looking at me, with that same smug look on his face. Then he opened the top drawer of his bureau, which was against one wall, nearby. He fumbled about among the contents, and I heard a loud click. Renzo turned back toward me—and now he had a switchblade knife in his hand! The narrow blade wasn’t all that long, but it was visibly very, very sharp.
“Are you going to suck it, or not?” he demanded.
“Come on, Renzo. Put that knife away.”
“Suck my dick, or I’ll cut you,” he told me, in a calm, utterly matter of fact tone of voice. “I’ll slice you wide open. And I’ll start with your pretty face. You’ll be damn ugly when I’m done carving you up.”
“You’d have trouble explaining that.”
He shrugged. “I could always say you had a little accident. Now, make up your mind. You want to suck, or bleed?”
That was some choice!
“You motherfucker. You don’t have to act so tough. All right, I’ll suck it,” I mumbled. “I’ll try to, anyway. If I puke … you’ll only have yourself to blame, you dirty bastard.”
“I’ll risk it,” Renzo said, with the same infuriating nonchalance. “Anyway, the bathroom’s right over there. Puke, if you have to, all you want. Just suck, first! Get down on your knees.”
I knelt on the tiled floor, as he came toward me. Standing over me, holding the switchblade in his right hand, he reached down and freed his genitals from the pouch of the jockstrap, which he pushed down around his thighs. Then he grabbed a fistful of my hair in his left hand. Roughly, he pulled my face forward, against his crotch.
“You bastard,” I repeated, as his prick swung out and actually slapped against my cheek and chin. The smell of his sweat and his crotch odor filled my nostrils. “You stinking, motherfucking bastard.”
“You can sweet-talk me all you want, later. Open your mouth and suck it,” Renzo ordered me. “I’m tired of fooling around.” He aimed the sharp point of the knife at my throat. It actually touched the skin under my chin.
In a desperate attempt to distract and placate him, I did open my mouth, wide. I stuck out my tongue and I rubbed it in a tentative swipe over his penis. He was very hard. His cock was inflexible, and yet the skin, stretched taut over it, felt satin-smooth on my tongue. His crotch smelled extremely musky, and his cock itself tasted surprisingly salty. But I was every bit as dirty, sweaty, and funky as he was, of course, so I was in no position to feel superior. And being in such close proximity to his genitals wasn’t the least bit repulsive, as I had feared it might be. On the contrary—it was rather pleasant. And undeniably exciting!
“Blow me, or I swear to God I’ll cut your fucking head off,” he threatened. “And then I’ll shove my dick down your throat. Right down the bleeding hole this knife will have made in your neck.”
I licked his cock more aggressively, wetting it with my saliva.
“That’s right, bitch,” Renzo crooned. “Get it wet.”
“I’ll suck it,” I panted. I was breathing hard. “I want to suck it,” I added, my own words shocking me when I heard them. “But put the knife away, Renzo. It makes me nervous.”
“I want it to make you nervous,” he replied. “I want you to be scared. No, buddy. The blade stays. This knife’s going to remind you who’s in charge. It’s going to remind you that you’d better suck my dick as though your life depends on it. Because it does! Bitch, you’d better open your mouth wide, and take my cock all the way. And I’d better not feel your teeth on me. No, just your lips. Your lips, sucking me, like a nice hot, wet cunt wrapped around my meat!”
I let out a moan—a lewd sound, compounded of fear and arousal. I touched my open lips to the tip of his prick. I stretched them wide, in a yawn, and I eased them down around the thick knob. I had his cock inside my mouth! Well, I had the glans inside my mouth, at least. It felt as big and round as it had looked; in fact, it felt as though I’d recklessly shoved some sort of a small ripe fruit, too large to swallow comfortably, inside my mouth.
“Aw, shit,” he gasped. “You’ve got a hot, sweet mouth! I knew you would. Take more of it, Gino. Take more of it into your mouth! Suck it, buddy. Suck that hot, dirty fucking cock of mine! Slobber all over it. Keep it wet. Cool it down.”
He kept the switchblade poised un
der my chin, against my throat. With his other hand, he maintained his grip on my hair, and he held my head in place while he fucked my face.
For all practical purposes, he was raping my mouth.
“Watch the teeth,” Renzo warned me. “All I want to feel is your lips, not your teeth. Keep your goddamn lips tucked over the edges of your teeth to cushion them. I told you—I want your mouth to feel like a hot, wet, juicy cunt, sliding up and down on my cock. No friction, bitch. Just suction. You give me what I want, unless you want to be cut.”
My mouth was now nothing but a hole for him to stick his cock into. He was using that hole, callously, to satisfy himself, without any thought for my comfort or my feelings.
“Work it,” Renzo coached. “Take more of my dick into your mouth. Go all the way down on it. Open wide, boy. Open wide, and suck! Suck it all.”
He was brutal. He was domineering me. He was relentless. And I liked it! I liked being forced to submit to him!
“Suck,” Renzo urged, breathlessly, laconically. “Suck!”
I sucked. I was an oral whore, completely at his disposal. My mouth was wide open. My lips caressed his bloated, throbbing shaft. My tongue abjectly licked and swabbed his meaty male organ. I was there to please him. I was the passive recipient of his potent lust. I was there to suck!
His rapid breathing, his gasps and groans, seemed to reassure me that, despite my inexperience, I was doing a good job of satisfying him.
“That’s right. Keep your mouth on my cock, and don’t you dare take it off until I’ve come in your mouth, and you’ve swallowed every drop of my jizz,” he told me, hoarsely. “Otherwise, I swear to God I’ll slit your fucking throat.”
You bastard, I wanted to yell. Oh, you dirty, raping bastard! I ought to bite your fucking cock. Yeah, I ought to sink my teeth right into it. That’d teach you, you son of a bitch!
Luckily for me, it didn’t take Renzo long to come. Not on that first occasion, anyway. Ordinarily, as I soon learned, he had an impressive staying power; but fucking my virginal mouth, violating it, for the very first time had simply gotten him too excited.
“I’m going to come,” he announced, breathlessly.
No kidding! I knew he was going to come. His cockshaft pulsed within the clasp of my lips, as though his hot thick semen was already flowing through the core of it. His cockhead twitched, too, in an unmistakable warning signal. And then he blew his wad.
Jesus! His semen foamed from the head of his cock, in a thick, salty mass. There was so much of it that it filled my mouth to overflowing. The excess escaped from between my lips and dripped down my chin, coating it with an obscene slime. The cum even dripped from my chin down onto my chest, where it mingled with my hot sweat.
For the first time, I tasted another man’s semen. It was the start of a lifelong love affair with the stuff!
I swallowed his load. The sheer depravity of what I’d just done inflamed me. I could feel myself shuddering helplessly from head to foot, at the prey of an overwhelming sexual response. My own neglected cock was hard, and it was dripping pre-cum from the piss slit in its tip. I was desperately aroused—and yet, inexplicably, my own satisfaction wasn’t that important to me at the moment. All that mattered to me was that I’d succeeded in draining Renzo dry of his cum.
My mouth slid free of his cock, which was still turgid, thick and throbbing and slippery wet with the obscene blend of his semen and my saliva.
“There,” Renzo said, with an audible smug satisfaction in his tone of voice. “That wasn’t so bad, now, was it?”
“You prick. You dirty motherfucker.”
“Oh, nice mouth,” he complained—which, given the humiliating abuse my mouth had just endured, was kind of an ironic thing for him to say.
“You made me do that. You forced me.”
“You didn’t need a whole lot of forcing, from what I saw.”
“I ought to—”
“What? What ought you to do? Run upstairs and complain to my Mom and Dad? Pick up the phone and call the cops and tell them you just got your mouth fucked? Go right ahead. Be my guest. It’ll be my word against yours.”
“Yeah,” I retorted. “Only you’re the jailbird, not me. So who do you think they’ll believe?”
I’d spoken without thinking. Immediately, I regretted it. But Renzo wasn’t angry. He seemed almost pensive.
“Yeah,” he said. “I guess you’ve got a point, there.”
Oddly enough, I felt penitent. I regretted possibly having hurt his feelings. “I didn’t really mind sucking your cock, Renzo,” I assured him.
“Yeah? Well, you sure could’ve fooled me. Damn! Such a lot of whining and complaining over nothing. Over a goddamn blow job. Which is nothing,” he said, flatly. “Hell! Back in the slammer, giving a guy a blow job was like shaking his hand. It was just a way for two guys to get acquainted with each other. Taking the other dude up the ass—now, that was real sex. True love, con style,” he added, mockingly.
“Well, this isn’t the slammer, and you’re no longer a con,” I dared to tell him. “And neither am I.”
“Yeah, but you’re still a punk,” Renzo said. “You’d be a real hit in the cellblock—down on your knees with your mouth open like that, sucking cock and swallowing cum. Yeah, you’d make out all right. You’d be damn popular.”
“That’s a nice way to talk. There’s no need to be insulting.”
“Aw, get over yourself, Gino. You were born to be another man’s bitch. You like dick. In your mouth. Up your ass. You can’t help yourself. There’s nothing wrong with it. So you’re a finocchio,” he added, using a vulgar Italian word for homosexual. “So what? It doesn’t bother me.”
But I wasn’t going to let him get off quite that easily.
“Oh, and you, on the other hand,” I said. “You’re no finocchio, of course. I suppose you can take it or leave it—fucking around with other guys, I mean.”
“I like it just fine,” Renzo declared. “It’s as good as pussy. Maybe better. If it makes you feel better to call me a fucking homo or a fucking queer, then you go right ahead and say it. I don’t give a shit. It’s just words. They don’t mean a thing, compared to what a guy feels inside himself. And, deep down in there … okay, I admit it. I’ve got a hard-on for you; and if you’re honest, you’ll admit it, too—that you’ve got a hard-on for me. So what? Deal with it. We get our rocks off together. Who loses in this deal?”
In retrospect, I’ve come to realize that, in his own coarse way, Renzo had a point. He was ahead of his time, in a way. He didn’t feel any need to label himself as either heterosexual or homosexual. He was simply sexual. Nor did he feel the slightest compunction to apologize for enjoying sex with men. To him, it was perfectly natural. Society’s disapproval of same-sex relationships meant nothing to him.
“You didn’t come yet, did you?” he asked.
“No.”
“Well, I’m not the kind of guy who’s going to leave a buddy high and dry,” he said. “I’ll suck you, too. I’ll suck you off. Come on. Here’s your chance to get back at me. Shove your cock in my mouth and fuck my mouth. You can come in my mouth, too. I’ll swallow it. I’ll show you what a real blow job. How it ought to be done.”
Talk about an offer you couldn’t refuse! I fed him my dick. I fucked his face. He sucked me. In fact, he deep-throated me, with a skill which astonished me. I blew my wad, and Renzo swallowed it all.
“See, fucker?” he told me, triumphantly, as he wiped a dribble of my excess cum from his lips and chin. “Now we’re both cocksuckers. Deal with it.”
After that night, I gave myself to Renzo unstintingly.
We worked together at the garage. We were buddies. Buddies with benefits, as the phrase would go nowadays.
We’d get together regularly in our free time, in the basement of his parents’ house, to hit the weights. These workouts were inevitably followed by a workout of quite another sort, in his bed. I quickly got over my shyness about cocksucking. I went down
on Renzo’s dick eagerly, hungrily. I ever learned how to repress my gag reflex, so I could deep-throat him. I learned to crave the texture and the taste of his semen, in my mouth. He returned the favor, sucking me as passionately as I blew him.
And, of course, we continued to enjoy anal intercourse. I was usually the passive participant, because I enjoyed getting fucked so much. But occasionally Renzo deigned to surrender his ass to me. Fucking him invariably got me extremely excited to the extent that I couldn’t last inside him for very long. I fired my wad up his ass, helplessly, to our mutual pleasure.
“Aw, shit,” he’d taunt me, after such a premature ejaculation on my part. “I guess that puny little cocktail sausage peter of yours isn’t up to much, it is? It wasn’t meant to satisfy a real man’s horny ass!”
“Give me a minute to get it hard again,” I’d bluster, in reply. “And I’ll screw you again, you dirty motherfucker! I’ll show you who knows how to satisfy another guy’s ass!”
In the course of many such sex sessions, Renzo and I became very free with each other’s bodies. I think we did everything to each other that two men could do, anatomically speaking. I was shameless, as brazen as any whore. I licked Renzo’s asshole, rimming him hungrily. I kissed and licked his feet, shrimping him, sucking on his toes. There wasn’t a part of his body which I didn’t explore, not only with my hands, but with my mouth and my tongue. I was his bitch!
It was, to put it bluntly, ideal training for my future career as a gay man. I’ve always had a reputation for being good in bed. When I say that, I’m not boasting. It’s simply a statement of fact. I’ve always striven to given my sex partners as much pleasure, or even more pleasure, than I’ve experienced myself. Nor did I acquire my erotic expertise overnight. It took years of practice. My affair with Renzo, though, undoubtedly got me off to a good start.
But I have to give Renzo credit. He was just as hell-bent upon satisfying me. He was a wonderful lover. Once he got thoroughly worked up, he had no inhibitions, and no limitations. His hands and his mouth, his tongue and his cock—every part of his body was at my disposal, stimulating me, arousing me, coaxing me toward orgasm.
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