It wasn't that he was really a fan, he said to me, but he just loved watching the young men in their uniforms. His name was Barry, and he was a guy I met at a baseball game the summer after I graduated from high school. It wasn't long before I took the next logical step. I thought about it all the time, and every guy I saw, I found myself wondering what it would be like to suck his dick and taste his cum. Sweet food like chocolate and ice cream seemed to make my sperm smoother and sweeter, while stronger stuff like coffee and iced tea make my cum thinner and slightly bitter.īy this time there was very little doubt in my mind that I was gay.
I began to be able to notice subtle differences in flavor, depending on what I had eaten during the day. Soon I was jerking off just for the thrill of feeling hot sperm sliding down my throat. I took a drink of water to wash it down, then went contentedly to sleep.įrom then on every time I jerked off I licked up my own load. The aftertaste was stronger than the initial taste - not unpleasant, but strange.
I swallowed every last drop of the stuff, and it was terribly exciting knowing I had just eaten my own cum. I swallowed, then proceeded to lick the remainder of my load off my palm, even getting my tongue between my fingers where it had started to leak through. I smelled it, and the slightly tangy odor of it didn't seem bad at all, so I stuck out my tongue and gingerly touched it to the pool of sperm in my hand.Īt first it didn't taste like anything at all, but felt warm and gooey in my mouth. Normally, I wiped it up with a tissue and threw it away, but this time I held it up to my face and looked at it closely. Just the idea of tasting my own cum was enough to make me blast a load into my palm. Of course she wrote that she just loved the taste of it, and I got to wondering if it really tasted as good as she said. This one night I was reading one of my favorite letters, about how this girl really loved to suck cock and eat cum. Sometimes I'd put myself in the place of the girl in the stories, and imagine that it was me with those hot and horny men. The pictures didn't excite me all that much, but the letters really got me off. I had several girlie mags I'd gotten from my friends, which I read while beating off. I was dating, off and on, and even getting laid once in a while, but mostly I had to rely on my own hand to keep my balls from exploding with jism. I knew deep down, of course, that I was gay, but outwardly I was still denying it. This was in my late teens, and I was still struggling to come to terms with my own sexuality. As a dedicated cock-sucker, I've swallowed countless loads of the stuff, but it's something I never grow tired of, and which never fails to excite me. I'm speaking of my love of sperm, of course. To me it's like a fine wine or an expensive brandy - something to be savored, for the taste of it in my mouth, the feel of it in my throat, and the pungent aroma of it.
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