“You’ve sure got hairy legs.”
“Don’t be.” Like everywhere else I’d been, John’s body hairs were made darker with my painting tongue, his dried sweat replaced by my spit. Both shins, both calves, both knees and both thighs, I spared nothing until reaching his golden V where two delectable balls lay waiting.
“What the hell are you... a man or a bull?”
“Just a dog, Jason. That’s all I am.” And just as a dog does when sunning his belly in afternoon rays, John drew up his knees and spread his legs into a butterfly. His nuts were fully exposed.
Here is where my master’s thesis was written, for here is where a man is won or lost. His gonads, so sensitive, require great skill to properly stimulate without threatening discomfort, but once conquered, the man is completely under control. My control. From then on, I can do just about whatever I want to do with him.
I took my time learning how to love John’s nuts. I practiced with my fingertips, delicately scratching, pinching and twisting. I tested with my lips, gently kissing, pinching sensitive flesh while tugging on testicle hairs. I scored high marks with my tongue, slavishly flicking and licking, and by the time I’d graduated this course, John’s penis frantically bounced on his belly in an erotic ballet of syrup-oozing delight. By the time I was finished with what I needed to know, John had nothing more to say other than mesmerized groans of happiness and pitiful moans of wanting me to finish him.
“Well, John, you know that I’m certainly no expert on the matter, but damn, that dick of yours sure is handsome.”
“Um hm... mm.”
That was not much of an answer, but it was an invitation to continue. Because John had so recently shot me full of his semen, he wouldn't be getting off again anytime soon. I was allowed plenty of time for learning. Time for mastering my sucking skills.
“Give me that beautiful piece of equipment,” I demanded upon snatching his cock with my lips. My first move was to engulf the entire thing. Get it nice and wet. From there, I trained myself. Experiments graded by his tones of voice. John’s grunts, moans and groans, high-pitched, low-pitched, medium-pitched, told me what worked and how well. Such a generous teacher was John that he suffered countless near-orgasms while I filled my head with knowledge. I did eventually catch on as to how I was torturing him. I came to the realization that when he tensed up and his balls shrunk to peanuts it was rather cruel of me to change tactics and try a new technique. Bad timing? Perhaps, but even after I knew what I was doing I kept doing it because I now had good reason. John was no longer in control. I was. This was my classroom, John my guinea pig.
When I finally let John blow his load, this hard-assed tough guy whimpered like a baby. But I will say that for a man forty-something years old, his second coming that came an hour after his first was quite impressive. Thanks to me by my way of thinking, by my way of doing. My hour with a surrendered John taught me how to properly stimulate every body part necessary for good orgasm. I’d also made great strides in becoming what I now knew I wished to be – a professional cock sucker. The best ever.
That’s all John wanted from me. He wanted me to be my best – for myself, and for him.