Daddy Long Stroke

I sigh, remembering a time when I used to be so obsessed with being a good dick sucker that I used to practice sucking on a dildo. I had bought myself a nice black, seven-inch dildo at an adult bookstore when I was barely twenty. At first, it was a little uncomfortable. My eyes would water and I’d gag as the head hit the back of my throat. But, I didn’t give up. I was determined to become a dick-swallowing pro. Diligently, I kept practicing every night before I went to bed until I was finally able to deep throat that rubber cock balls deep. Then I purchased an eight-inch, and practiced religiously until I was able to swallow it too. Before long, I was able to move up to a nine inch, then ten. And once I had them mastered, it was then, that I knew for certain I was ready to move on to the real thing. And I’ve been sucking dick ever since.

Funny thing, I’ve always prided myself on being a phenomenal head giver; on knowing how to take care of a man’s dick—to not only suck it, but to make love to it. To slob it because I love it; because I adore it. There’s something about slobbering all over a dick, twirling my tongue all over it—its slit slick with sweet precum, gliding my lips and mouth up and down its length, engulfing it—that makes my pussy wet.

The only difference is, back then I only sucked my boyfriends, men I loved; men who I wanted to be with. But now…now, I’m sucking a bunch of faceless, nameless men; men who I care nothing about. Men I have no emotional connection to. And that within itself makes what I’m doing that more dirty. I know this. Still—as filthy and as raunchy and trifling as it is, it excites me. It entices me. And it keeps me wanting more.

As crazy as this will sound, when I’m down on my knees, or leaned over in a nigga’s lap with a mouthful of dick while he’s driving—it’s not him I’m sucking, it’s not his balls I’m wetting. It’s Jasper’s dick. It’s Jasper’s balls. It’s Jasper’s moans I hear. It’s Jasper’s hands I feel wrapped in my hair, holding the back of my neck. It’s Jasper stretching my neck. Not any other nigga. I close my eyes, and pretend. I make believe them other niggas don’t exist.

The dinging alerts me I have new Yahoo messages. I sit back in front of my screen, take a deep breath. Eight emails. I click on the first one:

Great ad! Good looking married man here: 42, 5’9”, 7 cut, medium thick. Looking for a discreet, kinky woman who likes to eat and play with nice, big sweaty balls, lick in my musty crotch, and chew on my foreskin while I kick back. Can’t host.

I frown, disgusted. What the fuck?! I think, clicking DELETE.

I go onto the second email:

Hey baby, looking for a generous woman who likes to suck and get fucked in the back of her throat. I’m seven-inches cut, and I like the feel of a tight-ass throat gripping my dick when I nut. I’m 5’9, about 168lbs, average build, dark-skinned. I’m a dominate brotha so I would like to meet a submissive woman. I’m disease free and HIV negative. Hope you are, too. Hit me back.

Generous? Submissive? “Nigga, puhleeze,” I sigh aloud, rolling my eyes. Delete.

I open the next three, and want to vomit. They are mostly crude, or ridiculous; particularly this one:

Hi. I’m a clean, cool, horny, married Italian guy. I’m also well hung ’n thick. I’d love to put on my wife’s g-string, maybe even her thigh-highs, and let you suck me off through her panties, then pull out my thick, hot cock and give me good oral. I’m 6’2”, 180lbs, good shape. Don’t worry. I’m a straight man, but behind closed doors I love wearing my wife’s panties and getting oral. I hope this interests you.

I suck my teeth. “No motherfucker, it doesn’t!” Delete. What the fuck I look like sucking a nigga who wears woman’s panties? Straight man, my ass! Bitch, you a Miss Honey! I think, opening up the sixth email.