House Call

I had met him online with one of those hook-up apps. He said he needed to have his cock sucked. Nothing more, nothing less.

I was curious. Of course I was curious. I love to suck cock and told him that. But the only cock I had sucked in a long while was my wife's lover's 20 centimeter uncut schlong during the few threesomes we had in the past year, but that wasn't enough. I wanted more. All the way, have a man all to myself. Suck his cock from limp to hard, lick his balls, stroke him and let him cum in my mouth. Swallow all of it, every last drop.

Our threesomes had definitely been a revelation, but our lover was straight; he only just tolerated me sucking him, fondling his balls while he was fucking my wife, and catching his load when he was ready to shoot. But mostly I just felt I was forced to watch from the sideline and see my wife enjoying herself with his delicious cock in her mouth, or pumping in and out her pussy...I wanted it in my mouth, feel it slide over my tongue, taste his seed...

I craved cock. I had been on a date with a guy a little earlier, but that'd been somewhat of a disappointment. He was a very nice guy, friendly, and not even bad to look at, but apart from what was between their legs, I really didn't feel myself attracted to men. But I went on a date with him anyway, and it hadn't been at all what I had hoped. The details of this are perhaps for another story. Most of all, he was tiny. And I needed big.

So the search continued.

We had swapped a few cock pics already. He was circumcised , and some 16 centimeters in erection. Not too big, but not too bad either. It would do. He was into quickies, nothing too elaborate, no foreplay or talks needed, just in and out. I could live with that. I started fantasizing about it. About sucking him, tasting his jizz spatter in my mouth, maybe even letting him fuck me. He was definitely a top, so he had told me. He enjoyed sucking, but -- of course -- didn't mind getting head himself. It would be perfect. Now all we needed was a moment for it to happen.

And the moment came. I was returning home from a meeting one evening late, and passed through where he lived. I sent him a message letting him know I was in the neighborhood, longing for his cock. Didn't expect him to reply, or to be available at such short notice. But his reply came almost instantly. Gave me his address and told me to hurry. It was only 5 minutes away, so I left the highway and drove up to his house. I texted him that I wanted to be in and out in 10 minutes, just suck his cock and be gone. My wife was expecting me home, but it was a long drive so I had a little margin. 10 minutes would't make a lot of difference. The open relationship experiment had been a fiasco, and things between us were a little precarious, so she didn't need to know. She had never understood why I wanted to suck cock anyway. Funny, considering how much she loves it herself.

I had a little trouble finding a parking space. I was nervous as hell and heard the clock ticking in my head. My mouth was dry and my stomach was trying to somersault in my belly, but I kept myself under control somehow and managed to feel more or less serene when I rang the bell. Had to wait a moment, but then the door opened and there he stood, obviously nervous himself. He was a lot taller and heavier than what I had imagined from his pictures. Still quite a bit shorter than me, but I rejected the relevance of his build. It didn't matter, as long as he had a nice cock for me to spoil. He was wearing pajamas and a robe, and I could see his excitement bulging the cloth. He was thumbing his phone, told me he was checking if his hubby wasn't going to be home soon, so we wouldn't be disturbed. He had told me he was married, and that they had an open relationship, but we wouldn't want him to walk in on us, would we.

I wondered if that would be so bad...

He showed me in. This was a very awkward moment. I just stood there waiting as he put off our business until he got the word that it was safe. I almost told him I'd probably better come back another time. The clock was still ticking. I wanted to be out of here, still had to walk back to my car, find my way back to the highway...the bulge in his loose cotton pants beckoned me, an incentive to stay calm and be patient.

The liberating message arrived. He visibly relaxed. I was glad he was at least as nervous as me. Good thing he didn't need any ceremony; it was very clear why I was here. We'd been building up to this moment for a few weeks, and now it was finally here. He asked where I wanted to do it, but it didn't matter one bit to me; wherever he felt comfortable. So he sat down in the sofa behind him, opened his robe and pulled his pants down a little over his pelvis, but left the honors to me to free his cock. I kicked off my shoes and pulled my sweater over my head, grabbed a pillow from the couch to put under my knees and sat down between his spread thighs. He grinned at me and tried to relax. He intended to enjoy it, and I intended to give him enjoyment, and myself at the same time. He had just been in the shower -- so he had told me -- and he smelled sort of neutral and clean. Soap and excitement.

I pulled his pants further down and let his cock spring free. I knew I didn't have to expect anything spectacular, but still I was pleased with what I had to work with. His meat had a decent girth, with a curved cut shaft, and a nice, well-shaped head. I had preferred uncut, but decided not to let it bother me. I took his pole in my hand and started stroking him, letting him get fully hard while softly licking his shaft and nibbling his head. He put his hand on my arm and sagged back in the couch, unmistakably enjoying the preamble of the in-and-out blowjob he undoubtedly had been fantasizing about himself for a while now. I knew I had. I gorged him down and savored every centimeter of his boner sliding between my lips. I massaged the bottom of his shaft with my tongue and I bobbed my head up and down, sucked in my cheeks and stroked him with my hand where my mouth wasn't. He sighed and fondled my arm with his fingertips, urging me to go on. His precum started welling up already, and I hadn't even started intensifying my efforts yet. I paused and sucked the salty drops from his glans, took a moment to let my tongue run up and down his shaft, and spent a minute nibbling his balls while I kneaded his spitted knob.

His phone rang. He answered it, embarrassed and annoyed, and talked to the person on the other end for a few minutes. The clock was still ticking so I resumed where I had left off, gulped down his bone and applied the suction and friction needed to make him cum without any unnecessary delay. My zealousness didn't miss its effect, because his mind clearly wasn't with the matters discussed. He steered the conversation to its swift conclusion, put his phone out of the way and focused on the stranger seated between his legs enjoying the taste and texture of his throbbing erection. He spoke encouraging words, meeting the bobbing of my head with gentle thrusts of his pelvis. It didn't take long before he told me he was close to orgasm. I braced myself and settled in a steady and efficient rhythm, synchronizing the exertions of my mouth and hand with the increasingly erratic motion of his pelvis. I sensed a blissful consonance descend over him as his shudders faltered and his buttocks and belly clenched up. A warm and creamy taste started filling my mouth, a bit unexpected as I had been concentrated on my task. I hungrily started swallowing, stroking and sucking for all I was worth, thankful for and humbled by this precious gift. He emptied his balls, groaning freely and passionately, and only begged me to stop when his glans turned too sensitive to bear the endearment of my mouth any longer.

Not without some regret I let him pop out of my mouth. It had all gone too fast, and I had felt too detached from my senses to consciously savor all this tantalizing input. But the tangy taste in my mouth asserted itself and -- with some delay -- the realization hit me, permeating me with a not unmerited bliss of my own. Later he confessed that he had masturbated in the shower not long before I had arrived, which made the ease with which I had made cum quite a feat. He laughed a bit uneasily, hiked up his pants and unceremoniously asked me if I wanted something to wash it down. I took a few tissues from a box on the table, wiped off my mouth and beard -- apparently I had spilled quite a bit of his tasteful cum -- and accepted some cola, more to mask the smell for when I would get home than to dilute the taste. We stood in the kitchen talking about nothing in particular, both again a bit uncomfortable, but relieved that this first time was finally out of the way and had been pleasurable for both of us. I knew he would have loved to return the favor, but strangely I didn't feel an urgent need to get immediate relief for myself. There would be a next time, this I knew. I had found my way to his steps now, and whenever the road would bring me close and time would permit, I resolved that more was definitely to come.

We said our goodbyes. I drove home, kissed my wife goodnight, and dreamed...