The Sublime Cock
Breaking in the roommate.

Breaking in the roommate.

"Meet me in Cognito, baby." (250)

"Meet me in Cognito, baby." (250)

Addicted to crack/908.

Addicted to crack/908.

Breaking in the roommate/5.

Breaking in the roommate/5.

Breaking in the roommate/3.

Breaking in the roommate/3.

Breaking in the roommate/2.

Breaking in the roommate/2.

Benched/126.

Benched/126.

sublimecock:

10/

Following the steamy role-playing session in which it had become abundantly clear that my stud roommate/lover wanted  to fuck me, John dropped the subject of tapping my ass - for maybe two or three days. I had never felt closer to him and had pretty much made up my mind to “let him fuck me,” eventually. And that’s exactly how I thought about it - that I would be “letting him fuck me,” not that WE would be fucking or making love. When the question first became a live issue in our relationship - when his role-playing swerved unexpectedly from his exhibitionism and  my voyeurism to him fucking (or preparing to fuck) me, and then for the next day or so as I thought about it, I had not considered the proposition as anything other than a one-time deal, which, of course, was patently ridiculous. 

What John wanted to do, it occurred to me as I considered the options, was to change the entire fabric of our sexual relationship. Whether he intended it or not, and I think it was intended, he was asserting the “right” to be the dominant partner. He would be the fucker and I would be the fuckee - and not so long before my own view had been that if either of us was going to be the top, it was damn sure going to be me. But, as I said the other night, I was at least open to the idea of trying out for the role of bottom to John’s top.  Sometime during those couple of days I suddenly realized that if our relationship evolved into a fucking relationship, it likely would stay that way or end. That is, I understood that John was not going to be satisfied with one fuck (“Good, now we’ve gotten THAT out of the way…”) and then revert to handjobs and blowjobs.  And John, I absolutely knew, was never going to bottom. I also knew that if we didn’t change the fabric of our relationship it would likely end sooner rather than later. Since I didn’t see myself as a perpetual fuckee, the pin cushion always getting stuck by the pin, I wondered if “giving in” was really worth it.

The first time John raised the question again, just a couple of days after I had agreed to think about “letting him fuck me,” he did it in the same manner in which he had shown me the proper way to hit on a guy that I was into. One evening when I came out of the bathroom, naked after a shower, he was standing in the hall waiting, naked and hard. “Well, look who’s glad to see me—” I said. As he’d done before, he gently turned me toward the wall and put his arms around me from behind, cupping my junk in his hand and pressing his cock lengthwise against the crack of my ass as he started kissing my neck. “I am glad to see you,” he said as he slowly rubbed his hard cock up and down my crack. Which did not suck. I was curious, so I asked, “Can you get off doing that?” John laughed and said, “I could…but that’s not what I’ve got in mind.” I’m pretty sure what he had in mind was fucking me right then and there, standing against the hall wall. 

"John…goddammit John…I said I’d think about it, and I will. But it’s not going to happen tonight and it’s sure as fuck is not going to happen like this." His hard cock was still pressed against my ass while he deftly massaged my cock. I remember being kind of pissed at my dick for responding so positively to his attention. "How is it going to happen?" he purred, expertly ignoring the if/when and jumping straight to the how. "IF you fuck me - and that’s my decision to make - I don’t know how it’s going to be, but it’s not going to be spread-eagle against the wall—" "—Actually, I’ve read that it’s easier—" he interrupted, before I cut him off, "I don’t give a rat’s ass what you’ve READ in your fucking manual—" "Good pun," he laughed. John still had me pinned. I didn’t feel threatened by him, but I didn’t feel comfortable either - that whole dominance thing was smacking me right in the face. And his cock was wedged between my cheeks like a hotdog in a bun. "Now let me go," I said, trying hard not to feel or sound like a little girl.

"Not yet," he said, "just a minute more to make my case." Still holding my cock - tightly now - he got down on his  knees behind me. Then he released my cock and took my buns in both hands. "What a sweet peach of an ass," he murmured as he kissed one cheek and then the other, moving ever closer to my crack. I recalled that line, not fondly, from his role-play. John’s hands separated my cheeks and I felt his tongue tickling, then lapping, my crack. ‘What the fuck is going on…’ I thought. This was entirely new for us. He licked a finger and slipped it part of the way into my bullseye, where his tongue followed. ‘Holy fuck,’ I thought, bracing myself against the wall with my palms…and spreading my stance wider. ‘John’s tongue is inside of me,’ I remember thinking, and then just as quickly trying to remember how well I had washed down there. Well enough, I guessed. 

I had taken over from John with my cock as he alternately explored my asshole with tongue and finger. I have no idea how long John ate my ass like he was a fucking ass-eating expert - it really couldn’t have been that long because I know I came pretty quickly. All I can say about being rimmed that first time is that it was an indescribably good sensation. So good that I nearly let him fuck me…fuck, I nearly begged him to fuck me. I suppose I told John when I got close to orgasm, or maybe he just knew or his timing was lucky, whatever, his finger was deep inside me at the right moment, massaging my prostate as I staggered and shot rope after rope of cum all over the wall, feeling my ass contract tightly around his finger with each ejaculation. “Jesus Fucking Christ,” I panted as John took my cock into his mouth to finish me off. I held on to the top of his head to keep from falling over.

"Jesus," I repeated. John’s tongue licked at the corners of his mouth. He smiled and asked, "Did I do well?" "That was fucking incredible…but I thought you said you’d never done that before?" "I did, and I haven’t," he replied, "I read about it in my fucking manual."

" Impressive," I said, "both the manual and your application of it." "Think about how good my cock will feel—" "You mean your HUGE fucking cock?" I interjected. We both laughed. Then I added, "Speaking of," nodding at his hard-on, "you want some help with that thing?" "I guess that means you’re not just going to sit down on it?" John asked, with a slight plea in his voice. "Nope, I’m not. Not now, but definitely maybe…later." "How much later?" he asked. "God, John, I don’t know. Fuck, you haven’t even told me what the department store game is and you said yourself that would come first." 

I didn’t know when I might let him fuck me, but I was thinking, like, January. I had had this crazy idea that I might talk my brother into fucking me over the holidays, you know,  just so John’s bigger dick  wouldn’t hurt quite as much later (“Aw, c’mon, Jack, I just need a little favor…see, as soon as I go back to school the guy I’ve been blowing all semester is going to split me wide open with his huge fucking cock…it’s not like I’m asking you to enjoy fucking me…hell, it wouldn’t really even be sex, just practice…you don’t have to cum and I promise not to enjoy it…just park your dick in my ass for a few minutes - every day for the next two weeks”). I’m being extreme because it was a crazy idea, but it was less crazy than you probably think. There wasn’t much chance Jack would actually fuck me, of that I was pretty sure, but I also believed that Jack, deep down, really did want to fuck me. Wanted to but would not. Or wanted to but might not?  Mostly what I did, unwittingly, was let the question of fucking John somehow get all mixed up with the fantasies I still had about my twin Jack. I’m not sure how that changed the “to fuck or not to fuck” equation, if at all, but my therapist assured me later that such “transference” is most definitely “unhealthy.” Of course, she didn’t know that Jack wanted to fuck me, because I didn’t tell her that. She just thought I was crazy.

"But if we do ever fuck," I said to John, "I think we ought to go both ways. Reciprocity, like we’ve done everything else. You fuck me, I fuck you." I knew what the answer to that would be but I had to hear it. John didn’t even hesitate. "No, this isn’t the same as everything else. It’s not like you get left high and dry, the - um - benefits - are just different," he said. "Bullshit," I answered, "you expect me to take it up the ass but you’re not willing to even think about a high hard one yourself." 

"Oh fuck that, Joe. Goddammit, it’s not fucking like that. I have thought about it, a lot. I want to make you happy, too, but I know in my soul I’m not a bottom. Cannot be a bottom." "You can’t know that because you haven’t tried it," I shot back. But I knew that he was right, he was totally a top. 

I tacked a different way. “John, l don’t want to argue with you. Look, I know in my soul that you’re a fucking top. I do, I get that. But that doesn’t mean you have to be THE fucking top. I mean, what if I’m a top, too?” 

"You may think you’re a top, but you’re not," John said, "You’re not JUST a top, anyway. Maybe you’ll top some and bottom some, too, maybe you’ll get into both someday. I read that some guys do. But I’m as fucking certain that you’re not a top, or not only a top, as I was a couple months ago when I knew you were fucking dying to suck my cock. I was right then and I’m right now," he said matter-of-factly.

I was fucking speechless…for a second. Then I was furious. “The only thing I’m certain of is that you’re an arrogant fucking asshole!  You can’t read my mind, you…you…you fucker!” 

John laughed out loud at being called a “fucker.”  “Guilty. Our first fight,” he clucked, “it’s cute.” He pulled me over to him and hugged me. He was sweeter than I could ever be, but he was also arrogant. I kissed him anyway. I may not have been in love, but I liked that guy a helluva lot. The last thing I wanted to do was have a fight with him about the manner of our lovemaking. Then he said in a softer voice, “You’re right, Joe, I can’t read your mind…but I CAN read your body. I know you’re not a true top. I know that because a true top - a top only - would never even think about - to use your words - ‘taking it up the ass.’ Never. And you’re thinking about it. Not only are you thinking about it,  but you want it, Joe, you want me to fuck the…uh…daylights out of you. Don’t you?” He was still holding me, one hand clasping the back of my head loosely, looking straight into my eyes as he spoke.  “Don’t you?” 

My fucking tell-tale barometer of a cock stirred, noticeably. John noticed. Goddammit, hearing him whisper-fuck me like that was making me hard. I thought about it. Sure, I had some concerns about getting drilled for the first time, size, pain, etc., concerns about reciprocity, different concerns about how our relationship would change, was already changing. But I think that in some ways John did know me better than I knew myself. 

Did I want his big thick cock buried as deep into my ass as he could push it? Oh, snap, when you put it like that, and if we’re going to be totally honest with each other, it was a no-brainer. I gulped. My mouth was as dry as cotton.  

"Yeah," I whispered, nodding my head, "I do want that."

sublimecock:

10/

Following the steamy role-playing session in which it had become abundantly clear that my stud roommate/lover wanted to fuck me, John dropped the subject of tapping my ass - for maybe two or three days. I had never felt closer to him and had pretty much made up my mind to “let him fuck me,” eventually. And that’s exactly how I thought about it - that I would be “letting him fuck me,” not that WE would be fucking or making love. When the question first became a live issue in our relationship - when his role-playing swerved unexpectedly from his exhibitionism and my voyeurism to him fucking (or preparing to fuck) me, and then for the next day or so as I thought about it, I had not considered the proposition as anything other than a one-time deal, which, of course, was patently ridiculous.

What John wanted to do, it occurred to me as I considered the options, was to change the entire fabric of our sexual relationship. Whether he intended it or not, and I think it was intended, he was asserting the “right” to be the dominant partner. He would be the fucker and I would be the fuckee - and not so long before my own view had been that if either of us was going to be the top, it was damn sure going to be me. But, as I said the other night, I was at least open to the idea of trying out for the role of bottom to John’s top. Sometime during those couple of days I suddenly realized that if our relationship evolved into a fucking relationship, it likely would stay that way or end. That is, I understood that John was not going to be satisfied with one fuck (“Good, now we’ve gotten THAT out of the way…”) and then revert to handjobs and blowjobs. And John, I absolutely knew, was never going to bottom. I also knew that if we didn’t change the fabric of our relationship it would likely end sooner rather than later. Since I didn’t see myself as a perpetual fuckee, the pin cushion always getting stuck by the pin, I wondered if “giving in” was really worth it.

The first time John raised the question again, just a couple of days after I had agreed to think about “letting him fuck me,” he did it in the same manner in which he had shown me the proper way to hit on a guy that I was into. One evening when I came out of the bathroom, naked after a shower, he was standing in the hall waiting, naked and hard. “Well, look who’s glad to see me—” I said. As he’d done before, he gently turned me toward the wall and put his arms around me from behind, cupping my junk in his hand and pressing his cock lengthwise against the crack of my ass as he started kissing my neck. “I am glad to see you,” he said as he slowly rubbed his hard cock up and down my crack. Which did not suck. I was curious, so I asked, “Can you get off doing that?” John laughed and said, “I could…but that’s not what I’ve got in mind.” I’m pretty sure what he had in mind was fucking me right then and there, standing against the hall wall.

"John…goddammit John…I said I’d think about it, and I will. But it’s not going to happen tonight and it’s sure as fuck is not going to happen like this." His hard cock was still pressed against my ass while he deftly massaged my cock. I remember being kind of pissed at my dick for responding so positively to his attention. "How is it going to happen?" he purred, expertly ignoring the if/when and jumping straight to the how. "IF you fuck me - and that’s my decision to make - I don’t know how it’s going to be, but it’s not going to be spread-eagle against the wall—" "—Actually, I’ve read that it’s easier—" he interrupted, before I cut him off, "I don’t give a rat’s ass what you’ve READ in your fucking manual—" "Good pun," he laughed. John still had me pinned. I didn’t feel threatened by him, but I didn’t feel comfortable either - that whole dominance thing was smacking me right in the face. And his cock was wedged between my cheeks like a hotdog in a bun. "Now let me go," I said, trying hard not to feel or sound like a little girl.

"Not yet," he said, "just a minute more to make my case." Still holding my cock - tightly now - he got down on his knees behind me. Then he released my cock and took my buns in both hands. "What a sweet peach of an ass," he murmured as he kissed one cheek and then the other, moving ever closer to my crack. I recalled that line, not fondly, from his role-play. John’s hands separated my cheeks and I felt his tongue tickling, then lapping, my crack. ‘What the fuck is going on…’ I thought. This was entirely new for us. He licked a finger and slipped it part of the way into my bullseye, where his tongue followed. ‘Holy fuck,’ I thought, bracing myself against the wall with my palms…and spreading my stance wider. ‘John’s tongue is inside of me,’ I remember thinking, and then just as quickly trying to remember how well I had washed down there. Well enough, I guessed.

I had taken over from John with my cock as he alternately explored my asshole with tongue and finger. I have no idea how long John ate my ass like he was a fucking ass-eating expert - it really couldn’t have been that long because I know I came pretty quickly. All I can say about being rimmed that first time is that it was an indescribably good sensation. So good that I nearly let him fuck me…fuck, I nearly begged him to fuck me. I suppose I told John when I got close to orgasm, or maybe he just knew or his timing was lucky, whatever, his finger was deep inside me at the right moment, massaging my prostate as I staggered and shot rope after rope of cum all over the wall, feeling my ass contract tightly around his finger with each ejaculation. “Jesus Fucking Christ,” I panted as John took my cock into his mouth to finish me off. I held on to the top of his head to keep from falling over.

"Jesus," I repeated. John’s tongue licked at the corners of his mouth. He smiled and asked, "Did I do well?" "That was fucking incredible…but I thought you said you’d never done that before?" "I did, and I haven’t," he replied, "I read about it in my fucking manual."

" Impressive," I said, "both the manual and your application of it." "Think about how good my cock will feel—" "You mean your HUGE fucking cock?" I interjected. We both laughed. Then I added, "Speaking of," nodding at his hard-on, "you want some help with that thing?" "I guess that means you’re not just going to sit down on it?" John asked, with a slight plea in his voice. "Nope, I’m not. Not now, but definitely maybe…later." "How much later?" he asked. "God, John, I don’t know. Fuck, you haven’t even told me what the department store game is and you said yourself that would come first."

I didn’t know when I might let him fuck me, but I was thinking, like, January. I had had this crazy idea that I might talk my brother into fucking me over the holidays, you know, just so John’s bigger dick wouldn’t hurt quite as much later (“Aw, c’mon, Jack, I just need a little favor…see, as soon as I go back to school the guy I’ve been blowing all semester is going to split me wide open with his huge fucking cock…it’s not like I’m asking you to enjoy fucking me…hell, it wouldn’t really even be sex, just practice…you don’t have to cum and I promise not to enjoy it…just park your dick in my ass for a few minutes - every day for the next two weeks”). I’m being extreme because it was a crazy idea, but it was less crazy than you probably think. There wasn’t much chance Jack would actually fuck me, of that I was pretty sure, but I also believed that Jack, deep down, really did want to fuck me. Wanted to but would not. Or wanted to but might not? Mostly what I did, unwittingly, was let the question of fucking John somehow get all mixed up with the fantasies I still had about my twin Jack. I’m not sure how that changed the “to fuck or not to fuck” equation, if at all, but my therapist assured me later that such “transference” is most definitely “unhealthy.” Of course, she didn’t know that Jack wanted to fuck me, because I didn’t tell her that. She just thought I was crazy.

"But if we do ever fuck," I said to John, "I think we ought to go both ways. Reciprocity, like we’ve done everything else. You fuck me, I fuck you." I knew what the answer to that would be but I had to hear it. John didn’t even hesitate. "No, this isn’t the same as everything else. It’s not like you get left high and dry, the - um - benefits - are just different," he said. "Bullshit," I answered, "you expect me to take it up the ass but you’re not willing to even think about a high hard one yourself."

"Oh fuck that, Joe. Goddammit, it’s not fucking like that. I have thought about it, a lot. I want to make you happy, too, but I know in my soul I’m not a bottom. Cannot be a bottom." "You can’t know that because you haven’t tried it," I shot back. But I knew that he was right, he was totally a top.

I tacked a different way. “John, l don’t want to argue with you. Look, I know in my soul that you’re a fucking top. I do, I get that. But that doesn’t mean you have to be THE fucking top. I mean, what if I’m a top, too?”

"You may think you’re a top, but you’re not," John said, "You’re not JUST a top, anyway. Maybe you’ll top some and bottom some, too, maybe you’ll get into both someday. I read that some guys do. But I’m as fucking certain that you’re not a top, or not only a top, as I was a couple months ago when I knew you were fucking dying to suck my cock. I was right then and I’m right now," he said matter-of-factly.

I was fucking speechless…for a second. Then I was furious. “The only thing I’m certain of is that you’re an arrogant fucking asshole! You can’t read my mind, you…you…you fucker!”

John laughed out loud at being called a “fucker.” “Guilty. Our first fight,” he clucked, “it’s cute.” He pulled me over to him and hugged me. He was sweeter than I could ever be, but he was also arrogant. I kissed him anyway. I may not have been in love, but I liked that guy a helluva lot. The last thing I wanted to do was have a fight with him about the manner of our lovemaking. Then he said in a softer voice, “You’re right, Joe, I can’t read your mind…but I CAN read your body. I know you’re not a true top. I know that because a true top - a top only - would never even think about - to use your words - ‘taking it up the ass.’ Never. And you’re thinking about it. Not only are you thinking about it, but you want it, Joe, you want me to fuck the…uh…daylights out of you. Don’t you?” He was still holding me, one hand clasping the back of my head loosely, looking straight into my eyes as he spoke. “Don’t you?”

My fucking tell-tale barometer of a cock stirred, noticeably. John noticed. Goddammit, hearing him whisper-fuck me like that was making me hard. I thought about it. Sure, I had some concerns about getting drilled for the first time, size, pain, etc., concerns about reciprocity, different concerns about how our relationship would change, was already changing. But I think that in some ways John did know me better than I knew myself.

Did I want his big thick cock buried as deep into my ass as he could push it? Oh, snap, when you put it like that, and if we’re going to be totally honest with each other, it was a no-brainer. I gulped. My mouth was as dry as cotton.

"Yeah," I whispered, nodding my head, "I do want that."

Addicted to roommate crack.

Addicted to roommate crack.

Friday feet/555.

Friday feet/555.

Addicted to crack/887.

Addicted to crack/887.

Breakfast of Champions.

Breakfast of Champions.

Tayte Hanson fucking.

Under the Volcano/125.

Under the Volcano/125.

Under the Volcano/124.

Under the Volcano/124.