The blindfolded taste of lust-2
“I guess so” he answers.
“Give me your right hand.”
He doesn’t know exactly where she’s standing, so he puts it in front of him. She takes it, brings it forward until… His heart. Almost as though it knew before he did. Beating uncontrollably. And then his mind. Something like a white noise, the impossibility to place a thought, to realize though it knows, though he knows. There’s a warmth, the warmth of flesh, how it’s completely gorged, how its stiffness comes from within, from deep within and it lies on the inside of his wrist and his hand, his fingers recognize the hanging softness, particularly fragile beneath the hard flesh. In his palms, all the vulnerability in the world. Who is this man?
“Him, do you think he’ll cum a lot?” she asks, but he doesn’t answer, he can’t. She asks again.
“I don’t know” his voice says, weak, broken.
“And him?”
She takes his left hand and places it on another. The first one was soft, bald; this one is hairy. Something feels almost out of balance, in his mind, maybe, it’s spinning. The wonderful symmetry, how could he feel unbalanced? His hands are full, but he hasn’t moved them yet. He has been touched, he hasn’t himself touched.
“Which one do you think will cum more?”
He doesn’t have the slightest clue. He can’t even really think about it. “Stop it with your questions he feels like saying” but instead, he simply answers again: “I don’t know.” They feel different. The smooth balls hang more, are softer, whereas the hairier ones are tighter. No one is touching him. His erection is left helpless. He can’t fully grasp the situation, but he does tell himself: “I’m holding to men, I’m holding two men” and with all his will, he works to move his fingers, but there’s this deaf resistance coming from deep within, similar to a dream where you can’t scream though you try. He tries to breathe. It’s only been what, five seconds? Breathe. Trying to shatter this paralysis. And it’s not so much his will, than his body that does it, because he still can’t seize what’s happening when his fingers, all ten of them, slowly feel these men’s balls, when both his hands then move up slightly and grab, for the first time in his life, the base of two strange men’s cocks. He closes his fists around them. He pulls them downward lightly, strokes them ever so slightly.
“You don’t know…” she says, out the blue it seems to him, from an eternity ago. “Well, I guess you’ll have to do what it takes to find out.”
He lets out a small gasp, in spite of himself.
“Get on your knees.”
He does, without letting the men go. He pulls them towards him. He opens his mouth.
“Close your mouth. I want you to smell.”
He brings the two cocks together, their heads are touching (he wonders how it must feel to have your cock pressing against someone else’s), and he runs his face along their length, breathing in deeply. The scent is, strangely, as he had always imagined it. Musk, but more, sweat, desire, pure lust. The promise of cum. When his nose is at the very base of their cocks, where the skin loosens into the scrotum, both their shafts rest on his face, push with a slight, warm pressure. He feels covered, submerged by cock. He climbs their length, feeling them first with his nose, smelling them, breathing their air, their warmth, then he feels them with his closed lips until he reaches their heads, their soft heads. Only, the cock in his right hand doesn’t feel the same as the one in his left, its texture is different. Its smell is less pronounced. It’s the hairier man, he’s circumsized. The other isn’t. So he pulls his right hand down, rolls down the foreskin, it brush against his lips as he uncovers the glans. It’s moist and its smell is stronger, more intoxicating.
“Do you want to suck them, honey?”
He whispers yes, but it sounds more like he’s exhaling heavily.
“Only if you promise me you’ll eat their loads.”
This time he doesn’t even try to say anything, he simply moans.
“Tell them you want to swallow their thick loads. Tell them.”
He can’t see who he’s talking to, but he says, with his face smothered in their cocks: “I want to swallow both your loads. I want to taste them, eat them entirely, swallow them all.”
“You can open your mouth, now.”
He does. He pulls out his tongue and forcing himself to go slowly runs it against their two cocks, back and forth. The warmth is what surprises him the most. He straightens his back, tries to get himself a little higher so he can reach them from the top. With his hands, he pulls them down so they face horizontally, towards him. The heads taste slightly salty, taste like cock ought to taste, their soft, fleshy and now glistening with his saliva. He’s hoping there might be some precum, he concentrates to see if he tastes anything, but he’s not sure. Even the taste of cock is rapidly washing off with his saliva.
“Suck those cocks for me” she says. The music is still playing, with the moans in the background. He hadn’t noticed it in a while, but porn is still playing in the background. He wonders if the men are watching it right now and if they had ever seen this video before, if they like it. If they like it..
He takes the head of the cock in his right hand in his mouth for the first time. It fills him more than he thought it would. He likes it more than in his dreams, giving this sort of pleasure, feeling it. His tongue circles the base of the head, where it comes together before the urethra, around, then up and down. He circles his tongue at the base of the head, feeling the two curves where it comes together before the urethra, then he slowly pushes his head forward. He only has its head in his mouth, his lips are closed around the crown. He smears it with saliva and pushes forward. Tries to go as deep as he can and he knows exactly how it must feel, how that anonymous man’s cock feels in his warm, wet and wanting mouth. The head slides slickly against his tongue as he pushes forward as much as he can, it’s at the entrance of his throat. With his hand, he tries to feel how far deep he is taking it. He’s missing two inches. He pulls back with a suction. Mustn’t forget the teeth. He pushes forward again, trying to go deeper, make the lips plumper. It can’t go deeper. He quickly pulls out completely and grasps for air. A string of saliva hangs between his lips and the tip of the man’s penis. The other man, now.
This cock is slightly larger. It’s wider, longer than the other one, than his, or so it feels. And all this is becoming too much. He has a man in his mouth he wants the other one. He doesn’t know where to give head.
No one is saying a word, no one is making a noise. He’s beginning to feel almost uncomfortable, awkward in this silence. Its this feeling that makes him realize, for the first time that these are men, not merely cocks. That there are two men looking down at him on his knees, that his wife is looking at him on his knees trying to pleasure to cocks with his mouth until they unload in it, all over his tongue and his lips. These are two men. One at a time.
He lets go both their cocks. His hands reach for his own, he strokes it a few times, enough to give him courage, to stir up his desire, and he dives in. Both his hands reach blindly to his left, grab a thigh. They run up and down, up to his balls, down to his calves.
“This is a man I am about to pleasure.” Pleasant thought.
His mouth, he wants it so badly, he opens it and engulfs the cock without using his hands. His tongue swirls around it, his lips kiss it, his mouth takes it deep. Any hint of shame or shyness has completely evaporated, he’s making love to it, he’s ready to pleasure it until it cums. He grabs the smooth balls, plays with them, trying to imagine them full of semen. A cock can sometimes feel dry, almost as though the orgasm has to wring out what little sperm there is, and other times, the head feels overwhelmed by the contact of a mouth, a cock can feel ready to overflow like a saturated sponge at the slightest touch. He is hoping this man his feeling ready to overflow in his mouth.
With his mouth, his whole head slobbering on this man’s fully erect penis, his hands wander on his abdominals, run through the hair, move up to his chest, and his mouth isn’t stopping. His working it with all he’s got. Here is the cock’s body. A man. He grabs his ass. With his mouth, he pulls the man’s erection so it’s horizontal, he grabs both butt cheeks ands makes him thrust his hips. He pulls out for air.
“Fuck my mouth” he says softly, and as soon as he’s said it, wishes he had said it with more resolve, but two hands grab his head, hold it still as the cock slides in and out of his mouth. He’s moaning like a woman, being face fucked like this. It goes deeper and deeper, faster and faster. His head can’t think anymore. The only sensation he feels is the cock fucking his mouth, it fills his head. He’s a slut for this man. And there’s another one waiting.
“Fuck!” the man says. It’s the first time he’s heard him. He doesn’t recognize the voice.
“Stop!” his wife almost shouts. “Not yet. I want them to cum one after the other.”
The man lets go of his head and pulls out his cock, but he moves his head forward and gives it one last suck. On last lick. It vanishes in the darkness.
The other man brings himself forward. Against his face. He takes him with his hand. Though the smooth cock was nice, his mouth feeling the skin so well, the hairy one feels manlier. It seems to him the hairy man will cum harder, will cum thicker. He doesn’t even hesitate, this time. He grabs the man’s nipples, runs his fingers through his chest hair. He’s no one.
He himself, though he’s sucking, would like to ejaculate so much right about now. He’s not sure he can take it a lot longer. If only someone could kneel down and cover him with a mouth. Something warm, wet around his cock. He grabs it with his hand and strokes himself as he’s sucking. That’s when it hits him. His left hand reaches and grabs the man while he’s holding himself. He closes his fist around the base (it covers half its length) and he bobs his head vigorously on the upper half of the shaft all the while stroking himself. There’s a symmetry in what they must feel, him and the stranger.
“Yeah, like that” he hears his wife say. “Jerk him”.
And his eyes can’t see and with all this darkness around him, the thought of saying anything seems excruciating, shattering. She’s not saying anything either. The room is filled with silence and the sounds of his secret compilation. Anything else he hears is uncertain, is doubtful. He hears her moving to his right, her hands untie the knots tying him to the bed. Then to his left. His hands are free.
“Keep the blindfold” she says, somewhat coldly. Authoritatively. Enough so to make him doubt any pleasure might be had, enough to worry him about what she might make of all this. “Stand up.” Her intonation is the same.
He does as he’s told. A hand grabs his cock, cups his balls, weighs them.
“Hmm. Will you cum a lot?”
He sighs with relief.
“I want to cum so much…”
“Oh, do you?” she says perhaps a bit sarcastically. “Tell me, can a man feel it when his balls are full of cum? Do they feel different?”
The freaking Sistine Chapel of Sperm is what that movie is. He knows it almost by heart that’s how often he’s watched it, that’s how often he’s eaten his own load to it. It opens with a woman’s voice saying “I want to kiss my husband, with your cum still in my mouth”. Then it begins. He hears the voice say it. She is playing the fucking video! She found it, and she’s playing it. A thousand things are going through his mind. He would say something, but he’s ashamed right about now, that’s his natural reaction given the fact that he can’t see what the hell she is doing, the expression on her face, and that there’s a very explicit, cumeating fetish, bisexual video he hoped she would never find now playing. He’s ashamed, but so fucking aroused at the same time.
