An Untitled Exchange II

     We arranged to meet in the parking lot of 24 Hour Fitness at 6 am.  Anyone up this early, I automatically consider them harmless.  The flagrantly fraudulent, “Guy Smith” wanted to suck my cock somewhere between the conclusion of my morning workout and punching in for work.  I was happy to oblige.

     He was an older, Hispanic gentleman; a little overweight with a salt & pepper goatee.  He looked like management material, wearing his light blue dress shirt and striped tie.  Once inside of his car, he says looking towards the ground, “I’m kind of ashamed about this…need.  You know?  I’m married.”

    Never looking at my face, he kept his eyes on my crotch, “Sometimes I think it’s not so much that I like sucking cock, I just hate having mine.  Touching other cocks just does something to me; weird, huh?”  His hand nervously drifts over to my thigh,

    Once we got to his motel room, I started to take my shirt off and wiggled from my pants.  He unbuttoned his shirt then asked, “Do you want me to take off my pants?” 

    Nonchalantly, I nodded, “Sure.”  Sitting on the corner of the bed, I watched him drop trou.  The origin of his fetish became evident: his penis looked like an uncircumcised olive.  Being that his ad mentioned NSA head, I wasn’t turned off by it.  Instead, I was aroused by his supposed inferiority.  Although he probably makes way more money than me…He has the wife, kids and the nice house in the hills; my dick is bigger.  (Stupid, I know, but this idea of cock related superiority made me rock hard!)

    Dropping to his knees quickly, the tip of my dick hit the back of his throat before I knew it.  Bobbing his head slowly, up and down, he stayed completely fixated on my erection.  I realized, since meeting, he has never looked me in the face.  Shame?  Objectification?  Who knows?  Who cares?

   

The sound of his greed, gagging and slurping
The sight of his lustful, cock sucking trance
In that moment,
I felt like an observer watching one man’s devotion

    Lifting his head from my lap, a long strand of drool  connected his lips to the head of my dick.  Pumping his fist up and down, “Man, I wish I had a cock like this…so hard…and fuckin’ healthy!”  Jerking me off with his right hand, I noticed that he was swatting at his own cock with his left.  “I fuckin’ hate this shit!  You know what I'd do with a dick like this?”  He was beating himself up...literally.  Tightly gripping the base, he started to suck just the purple tip, “Thank you.  Mmmmm.  Thank you….Do you cum quickly?”

    Knowing I can take forever, I just said, “It depends.”

    “If you don’t mind, can I drop you back off at the gym, I have to get to work.”

    And just like that, almost as quickly as he dropped to his knees, I was hopping out of his car.  Only on Craig’s List.  Walking home from the gym, I felt strange processing what just happened.  I was definitely used.  But I was very inspired by our exchange.  The funny thing: if I would’ve came, I would’ve felt the exact opposite.

    Guy has crossed my mind since then.  He was a flagrant example of what happens within me subconsciously.  While getting my rocks off, there’s an envious quality to my greed.  I may not punch my junk the way he did, but I, too, beat myself up while worshiping others.  Once again, Craig's List has brought about brilliance...