I think the most enduring memory of my weekend in NYC with Frodo will be seeing his big, thick, hard cock bobbing and weaving inches from my face, heavy with his desire. I reached for it with my watering mouth.
“Not yet,” he said. “Wait until I say you can.”
This cock, which I love dearly — the first man’s cock I ever sucked — loomed before me. I knelt on the ground as he instructed, naked except for the jock strap he told me would be my uniform this weekend and the red and black leather collar he put around my neck. And right there in front of me, the cock. I could already taste it and feel it in my mouth. I am intimately familiar with it. Clear, shimmering precum was oozing from its tip. Its sweetness dripping, wasted, to the floor. I moved to try and catch it.
“NOT. Until. I. Say.”
I made a sound like a five year old with a plate of ice cream put in front of him who’s been told he can’t have any until everyone else has theirs. I was whining and fidgeting and wanted it so bad.
It had been two years, one month, and 23 days since the last time that cock was in my mouth. Two years, one month, and 23 days since any cock had been in my mouth. The memories of that cock had fueled my fantasies for that entire time. Its thick shaft, slightly curving up. The wide head. The sea of dark, tangled pubes at its root.
He brought it closer to my face. Just a bit. It filled my vision. Became my world. Driiiiiip.
Closer still. Not an inch away. I looked up, mouth open. Oh, PLEASE I said with my eyes.
And then he placed the tip of it inside my mouth. Right on my tongue. I lapped up the ooze and closed my lips over its head and moaned into it.
“Good boy,” and slid more of it into my mouth. I opened my throat to get as much as I could inside. “Yeah. Suck that cock, boy.”
His cock filled all my senses. How it felt as it pushed down my throat and moved over my tongue, the way it tasted leaking more into my mouth, the way his pubes smelled as they brushed my nose.
He flexed his hips back and forth and I reciprocally bobbed my head and curled my lips over my teeth like a good cocksucker. My lust wasn’t so overwhelming that I’d forget cocksucking 101. And after all, this was for him, not me.
Frodo decided to refrain from orgasming for the week before we met. He normally comes once a day, sometimes more, so going seven whole days is kind of a big deal. I haven’t been denied so long that I can’t remember what it was like at the beginning trying to stay good, especially without a device to keep me honest. I suspect that week of self-denial may have been the longest he’s gone without coming since he was a kid just figuring his cock out.
So not only was his production of precum prolific, the orgasm he eventually had in my mouth was tremendous. Pulse after pulse of ejaculate spraying onto the back of my throat so hard some of it went up my nose. Frodo loves to come in my mouth and for me to swallow it, so I concentrated on making room — opening my throat — for the flood of his pent up lust.
It seemed like he was coming for half a minute before he was done and I felt like I had a cup of his seed in my mouth. I savored it a bit, not having tasted a man for so, so long, letting it mix up and over and under my tongue before taking a huge gulp…which still wasn’t enough to get it all down.
We laid there together, my head on his chest, his beautiful cock laying thickly in that wonderful fat, shiny post orgasmic way real cocks do.
Later, we were walking. Walking because it was Manhattan and that’s what you do there. Exploring and absorbing the New Yorkness of it all. Maybe he knew where he was going, but I was just tagging along and following him and didn’t really care where we were gong as long as I was with him. So I was surprised to find us in front of the Stonewall Inn.
We decided to sit on their patio (trying to stay outdoors as much as possible for the obvious reasons) and have a drink. It was great being there with him. Being seen with him. Having people think I was with him as we watched the amazing Village street life pass by.
I should say before going on that I am not a big drinker. If I have more than one beer in an evening, that’s a lot for me. And I have one beer maybe once or twice a month. I’m a fucking lightweight. I have always been like that and Frodo has always been the opposite. For as long as we’ve known one another.
So anyway, we were at the Stonewall which is called an inn but it’s a bar and as we absorbed the amazing street, I absorbed a couple frozen piña coladas. Frozen rum drinks are a weakness of mine and piña coladas are, in particular, my catnip. I don’t think I would have had two, if I’m honest, because the first one was pretty strong and went right to my head but the Stonewall has a two drink minimum so a second one it was. Which led to this tweet.
I should have stopped there. Really. But if you drink, you may know about that golden moment right after you’ve become pleasantly drunk and just before you become seriously drunk where your ability to make that reasonable call about continuing to drink is defeated by the drink. So once we decided to leave the Stonewall and find food, I was quite prepared to continue to drink.
We found ourselves at a restaurant with outdoor seating. I can’t say more than that about it except for what its bathroom looked like because I was in it a few times to pee. And one time a nice person in line let me go ahead of them which I though may have been some kind of pass at me when it happened but in retrospect was kinda weird. What can I say. I was drunk.
I ate some food. I don’t recall what kind. And I had one more cocktail. It was minty. Maybe some form of mojito. There were two waiters, a gay who was, I think, flirting with us and one not gay who was definitely not. I liked the gay one better. He was funny and I totally would have sucked his dick. I remember thinking the food was good. Then we left and started walking back to the hotel.
But we stopped once again! At some other restaurant with a bar. Italian? I dunno. I had some sparkling wine. I should not have had the sparkling wine. But I was unable to make reasonable decisions on the matter. We drank and watched the Olympics on TV. Women’s volleyball, I think.
Then I remember walking again through the crowds and the all the outdoor dining and me not really being able to feel my feet and there was a drag bar with a big queen calling us in and I was kind of tempted but I was following not leading and we passed her by. I was talking a lot then we were back at the hotel and in the bed and I was naked except for the jock strap I had to wear and I think the collar went back on but maybe not. Then Frodo’s cock was in my mouth and he was insistently fucking my face with it and telling me to watch out for the teeth and the bed was spinning and I asked to take a short break. And then I passed out.
One thought on “Frodo and me in NYC, part one”
Fabulous! Thanks for sharing!
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