Last week in Toronto, my buddies passed out on the floor of the living room, cuddling. Sweet, but I was wide awake, trying not to jump one of them. The safest thing, I reasoned, was to get my ass out the door before I embarrassed myself by kissing a sleeping beauty who would prefer to remain faithful to the man he was faithful to.
I threw on some warmer clothes and headed to nearby Queen’s Park, a fitting moniker after midnight. Every tree, it seemed, had a fag holding it up. So much for my resolution to ‘date first, fuck later.’ I was on holiday.
After a couple strolls around the grounds failing to meet any new friends, a very pretty brown boy grabbed me by the neck, pulled my face down square with his perfect dick, and either groaned or grunted. What he lacked in manners he made up in a flattering sort of determination. Played right, greedy is good.
I did all my favourite things. His cock was slim enough to deep throat easily and just the right length for the head to slide past the tricky part and not gag me silly. I chewed it a very little, slapped it around, and generally went to town.
About half an hour later I began to get bored. He tasted great, smelled great, felt great, looked great and occasionally said encouraging things that sounded great, but there was none of his initial force that had proved so inviting. He wasn’t kissing me, didn’t go down on me the times I came up for air, and hadn’t even grabbed my dick.
That’s fine. Some nights I like to be taken and don’t mind a guy being selfish provided he play the part. (That means dirty, aggressive, and full of zeal.)
When I’m in that mood, I’m never sure how to let someone know. I have a literary aversion to talking like a porno. To give him a hint, I put my mouth around his dick and pushed his ass towards me. When he’d built up his own rhythm, I removed my hand and groaned appreciatively. He didn’t get it. Then I tried placing his hand on the back of my head, hoping he’d assert himself. No go.
There’s only so much humiliation I can take when not being humiliated. I stood again and pulled on my dick, wondering if I was the problem. Maybe he wasn’t into me. Maybe I’d be single and horny forever.
I was discreetly looking around at the other boys, trying to seem casual as I checked for a surrogate, when buddy-boy looked me in the eye and told me my mouth was amazing. My first thought was, who hasn’t heard that a hundred times before? But when I’m close to feeling sorry for myself, I’ve learned to give tricks the benefit of the doubt.
Flattered, I went down on him again.
* Miss Cookie LaWhore enjoys the climax in every happy ending.
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