Free Erotic Stories

A Long Time Coming

This is a true story. It is a sex story, but being a true sex story, it is not paced to achieve climax in a few minutes, nor even to achieve climax at all … though that could happen, I guess. It is a story that stretches over a number of years with bits of backstory that feed forward as we go. It has twists and turns that I, myself, did not see coming, so this may end up in a different place, by different routes than you first think. It is true both in the large and small details except for one or two places where I did a little smudging to smooth things a bit without changing anything essential. So this is not a story to get you from click to cum in 3.5 minutes. For that, click away to something else.

My wife “L” and I have been married for many years. She is conservative by nature, but even so, our life together has been sexually adventurous from the start … some of our first and favorite “dates” included stashing our clothes under a tree somewhere and walking nude hand-in-hand in the moonlight of our sleepy town while others slept, ignorant of our boldness. That early adventurism grew and expanded over years, eventually to include venturing into “the lifestyle”. Too many stories.

We are not high-frequency lifestylers … she’s not a hotwife or slut and I’m not a cocksman or bull. But we have had experiences across the board, with diverse types of people and sexual experiences ranging from exhibitionism and public sex to BDSM with ropes and flogging. And much in between and much beyond.

We are both upstanding people, both very involved in our professions, community, and family. Of necessity, we are quite careful to keep a firewall between our outward faces and our adult adventures. That clandestine aspect sprinkles some spice into mix, imagining what our very vanilla world of friends, family, and colleagues would think if they only knew. That’s what “naughty” is, after all, isn’t it? Stuff that the stuffy would not approve of? Numerous times things have come up in vanilla settings that have reminded us both of this or that adventure and we catch each other’s eye across a room and feel a private moment of shared heat, knowing what the other is thinking.

Ask her, and L will tell you that she is neither exhibitionist nor submissive, but when you see her nude in public for my camera or spread naked and strapped in a (semi) public dungeon, those modest words don’t quite ring true. BDSM overtones aside, our dynamic has always been one of me leading her into sexual adventure and her following, very often leading her to the fuzzy edges of her comfort zone. (The orgasms are more intense there.) That lead/follow dynamic is really Dom/sub in casual clothes. Our relationship has always been thus. It’s what works for us both.

As many lifestylers do, we came to use some lifestyle contact sites, and with that comes the unexciting and usually unrewarding task of sifting through an endless sea of profiles hoping to find compatibles. Distance is often vexing – a “match” a thousand miles away is no match at all, really. Interest in a possible match usually is short-lived as the practicalities of meeting usually turn out to be too daunting. L doesn’t like this this whole sausage-making aspect, so she leaves all that to me. When it does come to realistically trying to meet with a prospective match (rare), I end up making a “pitch” to her, summarizing what I have learned and why I see the situation as being worth a shot.

It happened one day that I stumbled across an interesting fellow. Call him “T”. He was local, clearly intelligent, cultured, and well-traveled. (I’ll leave out specifics.) He was enough out of the norm, in a good way, that I took a chance and messaged him with a thoughtful opener. I was a bit surprised that he messaged back, also thoughtfully. (That almost never happens.) We went back and forth for a while, including discovering that we were both members at another, more exclusive fetish-oriented site (less vanilla than lifestyle sites). Our conversation jumped over to that other site, where we learned more about each other, raising both of our interest levels. It turned out, further, that we were both occasional players at the same BDSM “rent-a-dungeon” in our city. We had not yet run into each other there, but it seemed to be an obvious neutral location for a possible meeting. “Neutral”, except for the fact that whenever we are there, L would be in her dungeon attire – nude but for her collar, leash, and heels – and very possibly strapped down to some piece of apparatus.

But WHY would L want to meet T … essentially for a sexually charged “blind date”? This is one of the points where our backstory kicks in. We enjoy erotic photography. Over the years, we have had many occasions to have “meets” with acquaintances for photo fun. It’s a familiar kind of setting in which L feels comfortable. So, whether meeting first at the dungeon or not, a trial meet for erotic photography with a new friend would be within her comfort zone.

But why get into photography with T? Well, for starters, he’s tall, dark, and handsome. Dark, as in chocolate dark. A black man several inches taller than her, with dark skin that I knew from experience would look great contrasting with her very pale skin. He was very fit, with defined muscles; I was sure that L would feel good wrapped up in them. I’ve seen her pale hands reaching around, grappling with the chocolate buttocks of such a man ploughing into her … I knew it would look awesome for her hands to be wandering T’s body. Oh … you want to know about his cock? Yes, T is “BBC class”. I never asked for numbers, but it was long, thick, and well-proportioned, with a classic downward curve. I’ve seen her mouth around that kind of cock before … doesn’t penetrate very far. He was circumcised, not that that would matter to L.

So yes, I was very interested in working something out, and he was open to being photographed with her. Because we had a natural neutral location as an option for meeting, the evident course of action would be to plan for all of us to go there on the same night and break the ice. Then …

He disappeared.

Damn! I hadn’t even pitched the situation to L yet … maybe that was a good thing.

Were we ghosted? At first, I thought so, but it would be very strange for that to happen at the advanced point of planning we had reached. As time passed, I noticed that the traces of his profile activity were frozen in the same state as when he disappeared, which would be a strange way to ghost just one person. Ghost everyone to ghost just one? Didn’t make sense. And there the matter lay … in a puddle of disappointment. Eventually, I moved on.

I don’t recall how much time passed before it occurred to me to check back on his profile, but when I did, I noticed that activity at his profile had resumed. At first, I was miffed, again thinking that we had been ghosted after all, but then I noticed that his location had changed to the other side of the world. The ultimate geo-buzzkill. I puzzled over this. Did he really move? Was he on vacation? People do sometimes change their location in such profiles when they travel. So, I just watched the profile off and on for a good while, trying to pick up clues.

Eventually, his location change was persisting too long for a mere vacation, so I concluded that he must have actually moved to the other side of the world. Realistically, we weren’t “friends” yet; while it would have been preferrable for him to let us know what was going on, this kind of break in communication is pretty common in lifestyle contacts. I reached out again … long time no see, how ya doin’, looks like you’ve moved, etc.

Sure enough, he had moved in relation to work. Out of respect for his privacy, I didn’t ask details. But interestingly, the tenor of our conversations returned easily. I found him interesting, and he apparently found me the same, so though prospects of meeting in my city or his new one had dropped essentially to zero, we kept in touch, sometimes around some substantive topic, sometimes sharing tips to sexually charged content one of us thought the other would like – you know – some net-found porn pic or clip. And so on.

Inevitably the question would come up whether he would be returning to our city. He had some roots here, so it was not a completely pointless thought. Yes, he expected to get back to our city now and then, and yes, he would look forward to acting on our plans at such a time.

Excellent. Demanding of one’s patience, but excellent.

[ A diversion now … we’ll come back, ]

A few years after my first contact with T, I suffered a rare injury (uninteresting, complex) leading to a series of surgeries over a couple of years that left me tragically, totally, and irreversibly impotent. Talk about buzzkill …

That was obviously a serious blow to me personally and a very sad complication for my sex life with my wife. (I’ll not go into all that handwringing.) Personal evolution takes time, as does relationship evolution. Though L’s love for me was certainly not predicated on sex, it was important to me that we not just abandon our sex life. Rather, it was important to me that we find ways to broaden our thinking about sex and keep the sexual heart of our relationship beating.

L and I had been involved with some local swinger friends over the years. One bit of broadening that I suggested to L was that we consider calling on one of these friends now and then essentially as a surrogate for me, to stand in and give her the natural sexual satisfaction she deserves. I would want to be present to share that experience with her – not so different from some of our photo episodes. My point to her was not that we just get a stud to “do” her – sorry guys, but those are a dime a dozen – but that we include someone with respect for our relationship and for my place in it, too. I’m not a cuckold.

There was a natural choice the first time … “S” … the husband in one of the swinger couples we’d been friends with for years. Ironically, S’s wife had in recent years retired from swinging herself, but often accompanied him on his fuck-quests. So … the plan was for S and L to have sex while us spouses sat by sharing the experience. Odd as it sounds, it went great. When they were done, L lay spent as S staggered off to take care of business. Then, as if planned, we spouses followed up orally, with me licking L’s pussy while the girls engaged in bi play up top. L was thoroughly and happily used by the time all was done … all things considered, a very successful experiment.

A successful experiment deserves to be repeated, and so we did. This next time happened in the context of a festival event, at a party house. I reached out to S again, and another swinger friend “R” we’d known even longer to see if either would be game to join us at the party house event. Turns out they both showed up, but S’s wife was busy. So L’s entourage consisted of two studly male friends and me. We eventually found our way to a private room and our little party was on. I settled onto the floor near the bed while the two guys swarmed L who lay flopped on her back. You can guess how things proceeded … they kept her stuffed at both ends pretty constantly except when trading positions. Happy sounds.

But then something happened totally unexpected. As S fucked her pussy and R fucked her mouth, I saw S lean down and join L in sucking R’s cock! Wham to the brain! We’d known these two guys as swingers for years and I had NO idea either one of them was the slightest bit bi. Yet here they were as if it was totally normal for them. (Maybe it was.)

The moment of surprise was brief but was enough. As the tryst developed, I was no longer a wall-sitter. I saw right in front of me a new way to be “in the mix” of sexual activity, so I joined them, joining L in sucking whichever cock happened to be fucking her mouth … the first time my lips ever touched a cock. It was pretty cool, really. And more so by the fact that she and I were swapping cock back and forth from mouth to mouth, sometimes actually “kissing” as our lips met around the cock. You know what I mean.

After a bit I sat back as positions changed around, my head kind of buzzing from all that was happening. Then, I noticed that in a new position, R was not fucking her mouth anymore, but was sitting on it. I even saw him adjust his ass and settle down straight on her lips, her nose disappearing between his cheeks. It was obvious that she was dutifully licking his asshole. Then it occurred to me that since his cock was not in her mouth, that meant it was “available”. So, I inserted my head between the two guys and sucked R’s cock over her breasts while L licked his ass and S fucked her pussy … everybody getting busy. Awesome. Never in a million years would I have scripted things to work out that way.

Before that night, I had been “theoretically” open to bi play. L had been fully bi for years, and I was open-minded about it, but I had never encountered circumstances that had even slightly gone that way. Though I was open-minded, I didn’t really know how I might react if the situation arose. Well, now I knew. Gay? No. Bi? Yes.

There was one more occasion with these two guys, this time at a swinger party at a large home take over. L was naked at the party, as usual. (Some of our swinger friends never saw her in clothes.) Both S and R were there, and they both had eyes on L for a repeat of the last time. When the time came, they both set upon her, this time in the middle of the floor in an open room, with other partiers watching, coming, going. The one significant difference was that this time there was no bi activity. You may be aware that though things are a bit more relaxed about it these days, among swingers, male bisexuality is still a bit taboo. So, we all played it totally straight. They DP’d her again, on her back and all fours until S finished first. Then R lay back and L settled into a long slow blowjob to finish him, too. She looks awesome sucking cock!

Those experiences all happened close together in time. Though there were differences, they were all similar experiments and they all worked. The easy conclusion was that with the “right guy”, adding a stand-in to our sex life would be a good thing. It is not in L’s personality to seek out such a thing, so that would again fall to me work something out. Then …

… Covid.

These successful experiments, it turned out, played out just a couple of months before Covid hit the world. All the good feeling and optimism that had emerged from those experiences sagged and flagged and deflated. [ Insert string of profanities here. ]

[ resuming earlier thread ]

During the Great Depression that was Covid, we all had dark feelings and idleness. Many of us were isolated, many of us leaned harder on our internet connections, by which I do not mean our ISPs, but those people “out there” with whom we share or seek connection. T was one of those for me. (Remember T?) Though on the other side of the world, we’d never met in person, so it wasn’t so different for us being under Covid … we didn’t “miss” direct, personal connection, because we never had it. DMs are DMs whether across town or across the globe, Covid or no Covid. Over time, as our conversations continued, I took time to share with T the unfortunate medical affliction that resulted in my impotence and our subsequent steps toward re-evolution of the sexual aspects of our marriage.

When T and I first connected, the prospect of us being together with L for some level of sexual adventure was envisioned as a casual tryst, a fling – sexy, not necessarily sexual. That prospect was still there, but I spelled out for him how the idea of sexual surrogacy made it desirable to get beyond mere “modeling” for my photography hobby. I explained that provided we were compatible, I was quite intentional about providing L the natural sexual satisfaction she deserves. I illustrated that by telling him about the several experiments in MMF that we had enjoyed with S and R before Covid. I was up front with him about the fact that if we managed to make something really happen, it would be with a strong likelihood of leading to gratifying, penetrating sex, not just photos. He was happy to hear that, of course.

Over the long haul of Covid, my mind naturally replayed our MMF experiments many times along with the possible future prospect of eventually really getting together with T. Over this time, I slowly came realize that any future MMF really should be with a compatible bi male, since owing to my own emerging bisexuality, that would likely be a significant feature of a successful triad relationship. As I imagined things playing out, I felt it would be best if all of us would be comfortable engaging each other, both MM and MF within the MMF.

I raised this with T, and over time we talked about it. He acknowledged that he was once in a similar MMF situation with a bi husband and things had been ok. Besides, he joked, my impotence kind of made me only half-bi, catching only rather than catching and pitching. Yeah, that kind of made me wince, but the point was real and correct. I think many guys possibly contemplating MMF would be put off by the prospect of another guy’s dick getting near them, but since mine can’t “do” anything, I’m not as much of a “threat” to another guy’s masculinity. So, our thinking moved to a place where he was cool about possibly being in a biMMF with us … someday.

Well … there came a day a couple of months ago when I received an unexpected message from T saying that he would be in town for a few days. His time would be pretty scheduled with business, but he hoped we could work something out. Wow. Bolt out of the blue. Seven years since our first contact and our first meeting was possibly just around the corner. Sure – let’s work something out!

So … suddenly seven years of history was being compressing into a few days and I was trying to see how to make something special work out. Most importantly, I needed to catch L up on all that history and manage to help her see things in the positive way that I did, and in doing so, recruit her good feelings toward the possibility of meeting with T for what would very likely be a sexual episode. Do that right, and she could appreciate the thoughtfulness and history that went into this. Do it wrong, and she might feel like I was pimping her out for a one-nighter with a traveling stranger. That would not be a good place to end up.

I also tried to imagine concretely how a biMMF tryst would actually play out. As I did, I grew concerned about a possible stumbling block I hadn’t thought of before. (Reality has a way of bringing such things to the surface.) Doubtless, in the course of play, I would be trying to “take” T’s BBC in challenging ways – T’s Dom streak would doubtless lead to him trying to get me to deepthroat his cock, despite my complete inexperience with that kind of thing. That would surely be awkward at best – gagging, retching, possibly even puking. He would probably expect to fuck me in the ass, too. (He would be too large for L to take anally, so that would be up to me.) It might seem a little silly, but I came to realize that I would be very embarrassed and inhibited to try these things for the first time in front of L, just sitting on the sidelines watching. Call it male ego if you like. Also, I was sure that the “energy” of the room would be very different if she were sitting there – that is, it struck me as likely that T and I would find ourselves holding back so as not to ruffle L too much.

These thoughts led me to an idea that I cautiously floated to T: What if he and I were to meet first, MM, in order to try things out with MM energy, without any inhibition or embarrassment from L being in the room? Then, if it feels like things are cool between us, we could follow at a different time with L along as the focus of MMF. If we find that he and I don’t click, we can call everything off without any negativity spilling over onto L. If we do click, things will go better with L by having first dealt with some of that MM energy outside of her presence. T and I both tend to be rational, pragmatic, fact-oriented people; we talked it out, and on thinking about it he agreed that it made good sense.

So … time to talk to L.

We sat down one evening and I told her I had a long story to lay out. The seven-year length of the matter was surprising to her. The prospect of her getting naked with someone in front of my camera was not surprising. The prospect of this person being a traveling stranger (at least to her) she found to be a bit unsettling. The biMMF aspect of the story was a little surprising, but not so much considering our history with S and R. But then the idea of T and me meeting MM first, to test the waters so to speak, was a real surprise. She tends to hear out my occasional lifestyle pitches with little facial expression, taking things in, but when we got to that point, her face bounced a bit.

I explained my motivating thoughts … that he and I would probably both feel inhibited in her presence, and I would feel embarrassed having my first experience being “used” by T be with her watching. That the MMF “energy” (e.g., fem-centric, deferential) would probably be very different from the MM “energy” (e.g., male-centric, aggressive). I acknowledged that this was a lot to lay out to her all at once, but I wanted her to have the full picture and to take some time to think about it.

She took some time to think about it, and sometime later came to me. Since I had been pretty thorough in laying things out, she had no questions and agreed that meeting MM first surprisingly made sense. She deferred on the thought of how and whether to meet MMF, agreeing that it made sense to see how things go with the MM meeting first. So … green light, and the conversation to be continued after the MM.

And so it was that a month or so later I arrived alone in the lobby of T’s hotel, nervously checking texts for his room number.

I arrived at T’s room and knocked. He opened the door dressed in creased, belted slacks and a polo … fresh from the airport. He knew who I was, of course, but he nonetheless showed just a flinch of surprise; though he knew my description, he had never in seven years seen a photo of me. (I value privacy and discretion.) He invited me in and offered me a libation (his word), which I declined since I would be driving later. I cracked a soft drink instead and we took seats in the living area of his suite.

We talked very comfortably, as if we already knew each other because we did. Of course, there were many things each of us had wondered about and never asked out of respect for the other’s privacy. We shared more now that the barriers were coming down. There were a few “aha” moments as some small revelations came out in conversation.

One of the things we discussed now was the MM vs. MMF differences. He told me more of his prior biMMF experience. It was ok, but not great. It was not any of the “acts” that caused any issues, but the fact that servicing both the biM and the F split his attention. Whether giving attention to one or the other, somebody was left out, which made him feel awkward. I hadn’t thought of that, but it made sense.

I picked up on the topic of awkwardness and homed in on the aspect of being “Dom”. Everything about his personality as projected through his profiles and much of our past conversations flashed “Dom”. That was obvious and ok with me; having a Dom personality myself, I felt I understood that aspect of him. It was clear, though, that he had been interpreting me as being “sub”, which I wanted to clarify, as I have already related earlier in this tale. I assured him that though I have a Dom personality, I was meeting him with the complete intention going along with whatever he wished for us to do, whether “subby” or not. To my surprise he was relieved.

Why relieved? In a Dom/sub dynamic, there is a constant dance involved; the Dom must lead, the sub must follow. So, there is some stress and responsibility on the Dom to maintain that polarity, set boundaries, structure scenes, etc. Maybe even establish rules and punishments. With that factored out, he was relieved that we were really meeting as equals without any of that to complicate the picture … we could just be ourselves as we were. I stressed that as far as I was concerned, the ground rule for our meeting was “anything goes” and I’d trust him to respect my tapping out if I needed to, but it was my intention not to. We agreed.

As we both seemed nicely comfortable with each other I asked, "So how can I help you relax from your trip?" With that, things moved along.

We both disrobed and returned to each other, standing naked together for the first time, essentially chest to chest. I took his cock in my right hand and his balls in my left. We were both quiet as I rolled his balls in one hand and caressed his flaccid cock with the other … his scrotum was tight, his balls forming a compact package … his cock was surprisingly soft, completely relaxed without any firmness; even so, it over-filled my hand.

He then set the tone for the rest of our time ... "Get on your knees." I did.

I lowered myself to my knees, which brought me face to face with his cock. I obviously knew what I should do, but being that this was the first time I was in position to notice and appreciate detail in ANY cock, especially a BBC, especially HIS BBC, I took a little time taking it in. I could see the tightness of his scrotum that I had felt with my hand … it was laced with those crinkly lines from the skin being contracted. It made me wonder if it was always like that. His cock hung straight down, still flaccid. It did not look that thick or daunting at this moment, but I knew better – I had seen photos and a couple of short video clips that left no question of what dimensions he would rise to. The skin was particularly dark, darker than the rest of his skin. I wondered if it would lighten in shade as he became erect, stretching it out. Maybe.

Though I took a moment admiring, I didn’t tarry … I knew what to do. I opened my mouth and took him in. Since he was flaccid, I took advantage and gobbled up his entire cock into my mouth, showing off my enthusiasm just a bit while I could. I knew things would soon change. My left hand went back to his balls, while I reached between his legs with my right and traced the crack of his ass.

I was quite happy to spend time there, enjoying all his textures and feeling his cock rolling around in my mouth; it’s hard to describe the feeling except to say that it was very nice, and I would have enjoyed staying with it for quite some time. But funny thing about cocks, they can be uncooperative with such thoughts. Soon it began to plump and swell. I wanted to keep it in my mouth, but I had to back off. It was showing its potential now, growing thicker and longer and firmer. I stroked him with my hand, going with the flow and coaxing him to greater dimensions.

His hand at the back of my head told me that stroking time was over, and I should take him again in my mouth. I did, and took to gliding slowly back and forth, getting him thoroughly wet.

“Chew it.”

Now that was unexpected. Not knowing how to “chew it”, I just indulged myself … taking him in somewhat deeply, then raking my teeth along his length as I pulled away … taking it between my molars with a gentle chewing motion.

“Chew the tip”

Aha … more focus … so I focused on his glans and the sensitive underside below, nibbling with my incisors, trying to generate pleasant rather than painful sensations. All the while his cock continued to swell.

“Put your hands behind your back.”

This was a much-anticipated moment. One of the few instructions I had been given was that he would put me on my knees, take my head in his hands, and I was to put my hands behind my back and keep them there. It was time.

So I did. I clasped my hands behind my back, he clasped my head in his, I opened my mouth letting him slide into me. He surprised me at first … he went straight for my throat. I had expected a little get-used-to-it time, but no … I guess he figured that time was over. Should I really have expected anything else? He forced himself into me as far as my body would allow. That first thrust was not too bad; he was still firming up, so though he breeched my throat, it was not bad. But that changed quickly. Within just a few strokes I felt him swell up and end up deeper every time … until that first retch.

Here we go. We were into it now. That first retch caused me to convulse backward involuntarily. He didn’t let go, and I did not move my hands. The cycle repeated: thrust, retch, convulse, thrust retch convulse. Somehow, after numerous of these cycles were repeated, I managed not to retch around every thrust, and when I didn’t retch he gained full penetration with my throat hugging his cock.

That may well be a moment I will never forget. His cock successfully sliding into my throat and actually feeling it deeply in there, feeling it NOT with my lips and tongue, but feeling the glide into my throat and the distention as he paused there … feeling his thickness expanding my throat … amazing. I guess he popped my throat cherry.

I didn’t have time to dwell on it though, because he just kept stroking and I kept gagging, though I got a little better – maybe only through exhaustion. Every time I did not gag I felt a little personal triumph. One stroke without gagging, then two strokes back-to-back, then a few in a row. Yes!

But this first lesson was not to stop there. Once he got me to where he could penetrate me two or three times in a row without me convulsing away, he started not withdrawing completely between strokes … staying in my throat for a pump or two before letting me off.

That’s when I started starving for air. With one thrust at a time, I could breathe in between. But he started chaining pumps together, so besides trying not to retch I had to start yielding to him my very will to breathe. I was frustrated … trying hard to control my retching to avoid pulling away was hard enough, but now even if not retching, I’d have to pull back just to breathe.

Ladies … respect!

Thing is … I knew he was enjoying this … enjoying my struggle. And as much as it might appear otherwise, my struggle was not with him, really, it was with myself. I wanted this, and I wanted him to teach me, I wanted to experience him. His cock was the instrument of my instruction, it was my own mind and body that had to learn.

As I struggled with breathing, without real conscious thought or decision, I grew more determined. As long as I had breath, I pushed or let him push me all the way down his shaft until my lips mashed against his pubic bone. Sometimes I bounced off if he was thrusting, but at other times I purposefully pushed myself all the way down and held face firmly against him for a moment, completely penetrated, mentally shouting, “See, you sadistic motherfucker … I can do it!” And some of those times, just to show that I was unbroken, with his cock completely buried in my throat, my face pressed firmly against his body, I extended my tongue … and licked his balls.

How long this went on I really don’t know how to judge. It was probably much shorter than it felt like because each time his cock cut me off from my air, it felt like an eternity. But it did eventually stop, and he released me, stepping away. I pretty much collapsed forward to all fours, water gushing from my eyes and drool from my mouth. I guess I looked inviting somehow, because out of the blue he gave me a pair of open-handed slaps across my ass cheeks. The weren’t that hard … he could have used a lot more force if he wanted to. Maybe he was testing me. I wondered if I now had handprints … I already knew that he liked that sort of thing.

I relaxed downward, exhausted, fully prostrate on the floor. I used something I learned from the late great pro running back Jim Brown – when tackled after his rushes, he was known to stay down just a few seconds longer than necessary, to catch just a little rest. So I took a little time. But then shortly, I pulled myself together and we moved to the bed.

Climbing up on the bed was not as simple as it should have been … my muscles were kind of wobbly … but I made it and flopped on my back with a big sigh. That was apparently right where he wanted me because he just climbed up over me, arranged my hands over my head and pinned them down. Another time, another place, they probably would have been tied to the headboard. He instructed me to keep them there ... though I could have done otherwise, I complied.

It was obvious what was about to happen. He adjusted himself and soon his cock was back in my mouth, this time with the force of some bodyweight behind it, and me without the ability to back away because of the bed underneath me. He would descend on me, forcing his cock into my throat, all the way to the root, and then just sit there.

From my old days, before my impotence, my cock had been quite on the large side, and L had been justly proud of being able to swallow me whole. I knew how it felt to be the one throated. I knew that even without thrusting, the reaction of the swallower's muscles - tonguing, swallowing, even gagging - feel very nice along the cock, so I tried to give him those feelings ... moving my tongue around, swallowing around his cock, extending my tongue as far as I could and trying to lick his balls … trying to project that I was “all in” and hungry for whatever he had in mind for me.

As this bout began, he was reasonably accommodating of my struggles, allowing me breath, and allowing me some room to react against my body's reflexive rejection. But as we moved along, he took more and more control, allowing me less and less, letting me get a breath, but then just possessing my throat, sometimes just putting his weight behind it and forcing his cock in as far as possible and holding it there with his body weight mashing down on my lips, straining my jaw, sometimes rocking back and forth a bit, actually fucking my throat in short strokes. I had no choice but to get some control over myself, otherwise I would spray us both with unpleasantness. I managed.

As in the prior bout, I don’t know how long it went on because of my preoccupation with just getting to the next breath, but eventually he freed me, and we had another little break. I lay panting of course, panting but happy. Sure, he used me, possibly right up to the line of abusing me, but even while it was going on I was amazed and happy with the place he was able to take me to. Over and over again, he had thrust himself through my mouth and into my throat as far as his cock would reach, mashing his bodyweight down onto my face leaving me no choice but to accept him completely, sometimes thrusting in cycles, actually fucking my throat. Amazing.

We lay side by side for a while on the bed, just recouping. And then something surprised me ... he rolled over on top of me and kissed me. I had been wondering about that. Our ground rule was that pretty much anything goes - no worries about sensitivities or negotiations. Nike sex – just do it. I had wondered whether his Domly bona fides would mean kissing was off the playlist. Apparently not. But it was not a man/woman kiss. There was no softness or tenderness. It was almost athletic; his mouth opened wide, and his tongue was firm and active. I don't think I've ever had a kiss like that - giving or receiving.

When he broke off the kiss, he was ready for another bout of a different character. I was still lying on my back and he crawled on top and sat his ass right on my mouth. Not really a surprise … I already knew that he liked having his ass licked ... so I licked his ass. His asshole was very tight - not like mine, or even my wife's. I wondered if the firmness of his musculature, including firm buttocks, somehow also tightened his anus? Weird thoughts can arise when you have your tongue up another man’s ass. I took both his balls in my mouth ... washed them. He apparently found the situation pleasant and comfortable as he settled into a 69-like position on top of me and grabbed my soft cock, stroking it, obviously trying to plump it up. Good luck, I thought. But … though I couldn’t see it (my face full of his ass) apparently he had at least some success, because he started sucking me. That’s another thing I had wondered about … whether he would take me in his mouth. In all our back and forth over years, I had never heard anything from him to indicate that he might be open to that.

I like being sucked even though I can't penetrate. With stimulation I can plump up a bit, so it's possible to have good feelings, I just can’t ring the cash register. Apparently, he managed to plump me up enough to be able to suck me, even to the point that I could feel his body throw off a couple of small gagging reflexes as he went at it. It was remarkable, really, to think that despite my impotence, he was able to plump me up enough to get to such a point … soft, of course, but there.

I guess my licking his ass got him in the mood for anal. He strapped on a condom and went for it. No problem for me, but apparently not so simple for him. Positioning was awkward, as was getting penetration. He did penetrate and I could feel him inside me, so the anal sex box technically was checked, but he was not well pleased with the way it was going. It's THEN that he tells me that he is not up to full size and firmness, which was giving him some difficulty getting his stroke on. He wanted to cum in my ass as the apex of our tryst, but it wasn’t happening. Maybe next time.

Not up to full size???

That was a slap to the brain. I’d been gagging, gasping, drooling almost nonstop around his cock fucking my throat – and feeling proud of how much I was able to manage – and NOW I hear that he was having an off day, not even up to his full dimensions? WTF would it be like next time? What happens to me when he’s on his A game?

Startled though I was to hear that, I was nonetheless very game for a next time. As we pulled ourselves together to wrap things up, we talked about next steps. We both agreed that we had unfinished business, and that it would be better to go MM again and build on what we had started rather than try to squeeze in the biMMF with L we had talked about.

Once home, L and I talked about the experience. She does not like talking about graphic details, so we talked in broad terms. I told her how my throat was a little tender, but ok, and how my lips were kind of hot and a bit numb/tingly from all the mashing. She smiled knowingly. I commented about the challenges of controlling my reflexes and getting enough air. She continued smiling demurely and just acknowledged, “It’s not easy ...”

I caught her up with how T and I concluded that it would be better for us extend the MM experience the next time rather than have her join us. She had trusted my judgement about setting up this situation in the first place, and she trusted me again in changing it. So for the remaining few days of T’s visit, I was essentially “on call”, playing things by ear since none of us knew what pockets of time might allow us to get together again before he had to leave. I felt just a bit like a man-whore … waiting for my client to call.

Unfortunately, the next time didn’t happen; his schedule was too tight. He was apologetic but made sure to stress that he had enjoyed our experience and he looked forward to getting together again. Now he’s back on the other side of the world, with zero visibility on when a next time might be, except that it won’t be soon.

That’s ok. This first meeting was a long time coming. It was worth the wait and so will be the next time.

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