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Tongue Tail

Category: Gay Male
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Once upon a time, there was a magical shower head. The thing was super adjustable, the water pressure just right, and I was able to dial in a concentrated, pulsing stream; one which, when I faced away on hands and knees and arched my back just so, perfectly targeted my tight, tawny, nineteen-year-old bullseye, pummeling me into steamy, protracted spasms of anal bliss.

That’s right; Orgasms….Anal….Hands-free. I’d sought this kind of thing, come to crave it quite honestly, especially when I went too long without it. The release was fantastic and necessary, even if it did pale compared to being with him.

It’s true that I’d long been aware of the sensitivity of that place. But I can’t lie; it was Barry, the year before, who had opened me to a whole new universe of erotic possibility, revealing just how truly responsive I was, and how incredibly receptive I could be in that “seat of pleasure.” No surprise then, that I was usually thinking of him when I got off that way.

He was a bit older, really good-looking — slim, smooth, olive-skinned, clean (though seldom clean-shaved), a talented musician type — and I’d agreed to let him handle my cock back then. Before that we were casual friends at most, but we had music as a common bond, and he was a cool guy to hang out with. He seemed quite into girls (and they into him), and I was for sure, though I was rather shy and my experience was limited. I’ll admit it shocked me — after one beer-soaked, bar-hopping evening — when he awakened me on his couch and practically begged to “just see and touch it….it’ll be great, I promise,” and adding that he’d even pay me if I’d let him.

We’d been so drunk earlier, with his proposition coming so completely out of left field, that I couldn’t be sure it was real, but I shook off my own fog enough to roll over and tell him to leave me alone, NOW! But I didn’t forget. I didn’t know if he’d meant it, either about the act or the cash. But I found my mind wandering back to it in the days that followed. I didn’t think I’d imagined it. I wondered if he even remembered, because honestly, I couldn’t detect the slightest weirdness or embarrassment when I saw him. On the other hand there weren’t too many times when it was just the two of us alone either. That kind of opportunity didn’t really present itself until a week or so had passed, and then it was I who broached the topic.

I don’t know what I’d been hoping for, but surely it wasn’t the sort of stammered half-apology that came forth. I guess I was looking for clarification (and perhaps a more clear-eyed re-statement of the offer). Instead he confessed that he did indeed remember saying something, but then cooly explained that his tongue sometimes got away from him when he drank too much. As if that put paid to the whole thing. There was an awkward pause, during which each of us seemed speechless, so I scrambled to steer the conversation elsewhere, at least as embarrassed as he, and that’s when he stopped me.

“Wait,” he smiled a little, his eyes searching for mine. “So…..were you — are you — interested, or…..?,” he asked tentatively, voice trailing off. I looked down as my stomach turned a nervous/excited flip, for we were both completely sober now. This was it. My heart was pounding as I swallowed and took a deep breath to settle myself. I looked up, meeting his grey eyes, and nodded. There was no mention of cash either. I was curious myself, you see. And so it began.

When the time came he wanted to undress me, and I let him. He went slowly. He seemed to want to discover my body, but not all at once. Once he’d finally touched me it wasn’t very long at all before I was in his mouth. It’s true his talented hands had felt great on me, but I knew I’d go right along if he wanted to do more, and he did.

Plus, when he asked if he could “taste” me, “please,” (his exact words), it was with such sweet earnestness that I doubt I would have resisted even if I’d wanted to, and I didn’t want to. That felt really good, too. I’d have been willing to bet he’d done it before. But even though I enjoyed the sensations, and maybe even got a bigger buzz just from watching this handsome guy treat me like his popsicle, my cock seemed, at best, ambivalent.

I couldn’t seem to get completely hard; you see, my thing is rather fat, and while it did thicken up readily enough from his attentions, it wouldn’t lengthen properly – a full erection would put me a tiny fraction over seven inches – and I don’t know that I was ever sporting much more than 2/3 of that. I was a little disappointed in myself for the non-showing.

He proclaimed it a “beauty” nonetheless, and it’s true that even in that state it posed a proper, albeit manageable, mouthful for him. He had great lips, and seeing the wide-stretched “O” they formed around my girth, watching him glide up and down, well, I have to admit it was a pretty amazing sight. Even beautiful, I suppose.

Certainly he looked to have plenty to occupy him and seemed to be enjoying it all immensely, really going slow with lots of eye contact, balancing me on his nose, pausing to kiss up and down the length of my underside, tickling my ball sac with his tongue, which I noticed was unusually long and very flexible. Sometimes he went a long way, taking most of my length, once even planting his nose deep in my dusty pubic hair, easing back just a fraction, then looking up at me and holding that position for long, dreamy seconds while we simply gazed at each other. Unreal. This was getting very personal. I had to lean back and steady myself against the cabinet at that point.

I’d had three experiences with girls down there and, while exciting and pleasurable in their way, each instance had taken place in dark or dimly lit situations, partially clothed, and had been furtive, rushed, fumbling, and incomplete. This couldn’t have been more different.

Our scene played out deliberately, almost elegantly, the light of a beautiful, late winter afternoon strong through the closed blinds, gentling the harshness of the fluorescent overhead light. We saw each other. Nothing was obscured, everything – every flicker of pleasure, of emotion — was on display. And it began to dawn on me just how attentive he was, gauging everything, my sounds, the faces I’d make, the specific response in reaction to a particular thing. But it was all so in the flow, so natural. I could see he was very, very good.

He’d nosh my balls and nibble my scrotum too, and once, he grasped the whole thing firmly in one hand, like a package, and lifted it to clear the way for that loooooooooong tongue of his to trace its way back along my smooth perineum, searching, snakelike. That was thrilling, but I got anxious as he approached the crack of my ass. Even squirmed. It was SO sensitive back there. There was a feeling too, not so much of it being forbidden, but somehow too intimate to permit, especially so quickly. For both of us.

I guess too, that if part of me thought he really shouldn’t go there, not now anyhow, another part of me worried what he might think of ME if I let him. For I WAS tempted. But I didn’t let him. I didn’t push him away or say no, I just kind of shifted forward to get him to work back upwards. He took the hint (for a while, anyhow).

Anyhow, this went on for quite a while and though he didn’t seem eager to end it, at some point I guess I could just tell I wouldn’t climax… least not that way. It was no fault of his either; what he was doing felt great, but I was even starting to lose the erection – such as it was – that I had attained.

Looking back I’m not surprised; both before and since I’ve almost always found it difficult to relax into the moment while receiving head in a standing position. It felt, still feels, like a performance. Add to that the fact that, up until that time I’d never had an orgasm except while having intercourse. Possibly you can understand, in that time and place, how, while I’d enjoyed it, I was about to say he didn’t have to keep going, that we could stop what we were doing. And that’s when he asked me if I’d “turn around, please, just for a sec.”

So now I was standing, in gym socks and nothing else, legs slightly apart, leaning forward against a bathroom cabinet, hands on the counter, and he was still kneeling, right behind me now, completely dressed (jeans/T-shirt/sneaks) and checking out my backside. He murmured his approval, and I don’t know why, but I kind of swayed it back and forth for him, teasingly, like I imagined a stripper might, really more as a joke than anything else.

He didn’t laugh at all, but I did hear his breathing catch, which, while not the reaction I’d sought, didn’t seem like such a bad thing either. I waited. I’d told myself a blowjob was the limit, parried what seemed like his first exploration cheekward, and yet here we were, here I was, showing off my ass to him. And what’s more, very excited by it. What was I thinking? I knew where this could lead, but instinctively I trusted him.

At first I felt his fingertips moving lightly up and down the back of my legs, from knees to just below my butt, and when he started to stroke and fondle my cheeks it felt so completely wonderful and innocent; just his marvelous hands at first, roaming everywhere it seemed, EXCEPT the crack, and so gently, so softly, in no hurry at all. It was blissful and I was getting swept away. “That feels really, really nice,” I whispered looking back at him.

“Good”, he replied, “that’s the idea.” I closed my eyes and sighed. Then I backed my butt towards him just a bit more, leaning farther forward at the same time, so that my elbows and forearms were resting more on the counter. I knew perfectly well what this would do, that it had the effect of offering my backside to him even more fully. He slapped one cheek lightly, then the other before grabbing a strong handful of each in his big hands, muttering, “You have a really great ass, you know?” He had lightened his grip, playfully jiggling me, lifting and separating my bottom flesh, when I heard the sharp intake of his breath. “Oooooooooooh,” he said quietly. I looked back and could tell he was staring right at my you-know-what. His nostrils flared ever so slightly, and he was shaking his head side-to-side slowly, tongue playing at the corner of his mouth. He looked hungry. I felt exposed to say the least, but I realized I was licking my own lips with anticipation. This was getting very interesting.

His tribute, and the position I was in, suddenly made me feel a momentary shyness. I didn’t know quite what to say, but I returned the compliment, telling him, “I don’t know about that, but I do know your hands are making my ass FEEL really great,” which was pure truth. Then I relaxed a bit, spread my feet – and legs – just a bit wider, granting him unfettered access to my balls and cock if he wanted, and while I could feel his fingers stray to that territory occasionally, his focus was clearly elsewhere. Still, my scrotum began to gather and tighten for the first time, and that wasn’t all. He asked if he could kiss my ass. What a perfect young gentleman!!! I knew where this was going now, and I didn’t mind at all. My reply – “Yes, I want you to.”

Soon he began to shower butterfly kisses on my lower back, upper thighs, and cheeks. I detected the brush of his tongue too — warmer than his lips, rougher too, and leaving its dampness — but only occasionally. My excitement climbed steadily. I nearly fainted with pleasure when, with his hands slightly parting my cheeks for a long moment, he became perfectly still and his hot breath grazed the divide of my butt. I could hear him inhaling and exhaling gently. He was very close, and I swear he purred like a hungry Tomcat. My heart was pounding in my ears. Something changed them, I think for both of us, and for the first time an element of urgency was added to the heady mix. I like to think now, that he’d caught my scent, been completely seduced, and was now firmly under my spell, a slave to my every whim.

Whatever!!! If indeed there was any spell it was certainly a shared one, because for me, this had already far surpassed the BJ. It was intoxicating. Truly, I felt almost drugged. But there was no lethargy. My senses were on highest alert and it was pure, sweet sensation, Barry authoring pleasure like I’d never imagined, let alone felt. Things were building between us…

For me, anyhow, the anticipation, wanting more but still not being sure exactly what that meant, or what might happen next, was both excruciating and tantalizing. I could feel my whole body opening to him, coming alive everywhere like never before. It seemed magical, the way he was tripping up-until-then-wholly-untapped sensory wires every few seconds, but there was absolutely no let-up. The pleasure just kept mounting. And impossible as this sounds, it was about to get a LOT better.

Very soon I was aching for more. The teasing had done its work, perhaps too well. I wanted to tell him to DO MORE NOW, to do things to me, between my cheeks…..if he would, if he wanted to; to spread me wide and press his nose right in there, into that darker flesh. My desire was undeniably centered right there. Somehow, HE had done this, had created that kind of need, and raw hunger, in that place. This couldn’t be me, could it???!!! But it was, and yet….somehow those thoughts seemed, well, inexpressible. But I wanted it now. Badly.

It was cool in that house, cooler still in the bathroom, but the goose flesh that had spread from my backside to cover nearly the whole of my body’s skin had little or nothing to do with that. All I could do was moan softly. My nipples were tight and dark. I felt flushed and cool at once. Chills rippled up and down my spine. I was actually trembling with desire. And now his fingernails were dragging lightly on my tight sac, barely touching it, now and again scraping the underside of my cock too, while his kisses, now more lingering and passionate, were less random, more urgent, and falling ever closer to my crack.

By now my cock had straightened out the rest of the way, resolute, persuaded after all. Now completely engorged, it curved almost straight up to my belly-button, and when I looked down, I watched, almost unbelievingly, as a drop of pre-cum glistened at the tip, pooled to overflowing, then spilled slowly, dangling in a clear, sticky string. “Do you know what you’re doing to me, Barry?,” I moaned.

He had seen it, had seen everything, and now he teasingly asked, “You’re liking this?” I just sighed. He knew exactly what he was doing to me. My arousal was so complete, so patently obvious, I guess he took it all as an invitation to do the next thing.

He didn’t ask. Not this time. He didn’t have to. He knew. And though I couldn’t believe what was about to happen, I most certainly knew it was coming. I held my breath. Held it some more as I felt the warmth of his skin move close, the brush of his stubble against my soft bottom, his breath as his tender lips parted. But when his warm, silky tongue tip softly feathered my anus, like the most intimate and delicate question imaginable, I simply couldn’t help myself. I could never have prepared for it. No way.

There was a sudden expelling of breath, and my body recoiled, jerking away involuntarily, almost violently. I guess I knew we’d been moving inexorably towards this for a while, but the delicious anticipation, the breathless moments followed by that electrifying instant of intimate discovery – fleeting, yes, but impossibly erotic too — had been exhilarating beyond compare. (It’s still completely unforgettable — I guess that’s why I can’t keep it to myself and I’m telling you about it). It still amazes me. And while it was certainly an auspicious moment, a harbinger of even more glorious things still to come, within the context of what was to unfold between Barry and me the rest of that day and night it was but one revelation.

But then and there I’ll admit I was a little freaked out by my reaction, questioning myself (That is my butthole, and a guy is eating it, and I’m loving it…..WHAT THE FUCK???!!!). A mixture of genuine disbelief and lustful desire co-mingled, along with the realization that I didn’t want him to stop, just wanted to keep going on. But I wondered what Barry was thinking too. He was doing everything here, making me feel so incredible. The last thing I wanted was to make him think he’d done something wrong. Not when I was being so selfish. When I looked back at him with uncertainty, he returned my gaze steadily. There was understanding in his eyes, but determination as well. Then he reached around my hips and pulled me gently back to him.

“Just relax, now, and I mean relax EVERYTHING. I really want to do this, ” he soothed me, leaning me forward again with his hand on my back, and when his tongue nestled on my browneye this time, I tensed at first but then quickly relaxed. That brought an audible, satisfied “Mmmmmmmmm,” of approval from behind me, and I warmed to his attentions in a hurry.

When his tongue swirled delicately around the rim, I wiggled my whole ass a little, slooooooowly(I couldn’t help it, I just had to move!!), but I also gasped with shivery delight. “That’s it, boy! Daaaaaaaamn, I knew it – you taste good, too,” he murmured, and delved right back in. I loved his tongue there. I felt like I was glowing, and ripples of pleasure coursed through me. I looked back at him again with open-mouthed wonder as he explored.

Why does this feel so fucking good?!!!, I thought to myself, but didn’t say.

He said a single word, “Yum,” smiled at me, chuckled (I suppose at my awed expression), then growled low as his tongue re-aquired the target and began to scan and memorize my most sensitive and silky flesh, hotly, wetly, creatively. He loved it too, I realized. Clearly. It was lustful what he was doing to me, but it was artful as well. Being wanted like this was driving me crazy. He was making love to my ass with his mouth. He was giving, but he was getting too, and I kept hearing satisfied, humming sounds, almost sing-song like at times. Sweet music to my ears. His obvious enjoyment turned me on even more, if that was possible.

I was becoming more vocal too, also more through sounds – though mine were the moans, sighs, etc. of ineffable pleasure – than words, marveling at the dexterity and the texture of that fantastic tongue. He seemed to be listening. He’d pause intermittently, admiring my flesh and the devastating effect he was having on me, and my need would almost instantly overwhelm me. I was clear-headed enough though, really for the first time in some minutes, to think of something other than myself, and when I did I peered down past my own erection, to his lap. Something formidable bulge bulked his jeans there. Bigger than mine, for certain. Maybe by a lot. I felt another pang of selfishness at my inactivity, thought for an instant of reaching for him, changing the game, but hesitated.

I knew I was getting ripe for release now and that the natural progression would probably be for me to turn around to finish things, for I was fairly swooning with lust now. I did start to turn, but he almost shouted at me not to, “NO! Wait…stay,” and that was when he really poked at my hole for the first time. He didn’t go in much, I was waaaaay too tight for that, but he went in all the same. I groaned, I believe, from the vicinity of my soul. Truly, it sounded like another person. Maybe it was. I felt primitive, beautiful, and free.

I looked down and saw a perfect pearl of ivory bead at my swollen cock’s head. Un-fucking believable! I guess that was the moment that I knew that I would have an orgasm JUST LIKE THIS, that he would finish me if we kept going. It was so thrilling, so exciting. He did it again and this time he he held his place, stayed in there, blowing my mind, but questing for more. My anus contracted rapidly, involuntarily around his tongue several times, and he moaned lustfully, then giggled, pulling away, and I pleaded for him not to stop. He didn’t. He spread my cheeks, and at last I found my full voice, hissing “Yeeeessssss……Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeaase!!!” at him, and drove my butt back into his face.

Here was greed, pure and unabashed. This was pure animal need now, getting really intense, Wild Kingdom stuff for sure. My move knocked him off balance, but he was right back where I needed him in a flash, and now, using his hands to really open me up to him, I felt his slippery tongue dance teasingly around my dark ring then, finding the opening, probe my pungent tightness with serious purpose, and slowly gain entry.

I’d had my finger up in there before, but that was MY finger. This was something else again. The main thing of course being that it was the real flesh of someone else; hot, surging, alive. Greedy in its own right. But I’d forgotten how long that tongue looked! And now he was really showing me; I was FEELING how long it was!!! It felt impossible somehow, the way it seemed to keep growing and swirling inside me. My body began to undulate, stomach muscles clenching, and something deeper was triggered. Unleashed. I was losing control of my body but this was completely new territory. I could feel myself poised on the brink of something unprecedented.

It took precisely four pushes, prolonged, rhythmic, insistent, each deeper than the last, with that hot tongue exploring and tasting new flesh on every advance. And I was backing into him shamelessly, helping him spread my cheeks wider, urging him on, welcoming everything he could give me, when it happened. It started with a tingle, became a hum, then a vibration, then a throbbing, then an outright shaking. He was holding onto my hips, and I’d grabbed the back of his head, pressing and holding him in there as deep as possible, when I began to go off like a Roman Candle. I closed my eyes, arched my back, and just let everything go. I was gasping, then shouting his name, when my brain exploded; I could feel fireworks (and see them too, behind my closed eyes!) from my hair to my toenails, all of it radiating from a clenching, convulsing, contracting/expanding core I’d never known existed. Barry had really done it now, and we were both dealing with the consequences now.

It seemed to go on and on, and he was right there for some of it, holding on, face still wedged between my buns. My anus, spasming powerfully, repeatedly, endlessly it seemed, must have made him fear for his tongue’s circulation, but at some point my thrashing, heaving, bucking, thrusting antics, completely out of my own control, dislodged him and made him a spectator. I had to cling to the counter just to keep my balance. And when everything finally subsided I still nearly collapsed. It wasn’t quite shock I was feeling, but pretty close to it.

I hadn’t really even thought of my cock much, beyond the clear evidence it had shown of my progressively building desire. Really it had been no more than a barometer of what was coming, by no means the center or vortex of it. Yes — I’d felt, more than seen, the fabulous release, and was aware when I “came” in that typical way. But I knew too, that a prodigious ejaculation had been only one component of something so, so, so, so much more; so much bigger, so much more spectacular, wondrous, and beautifully explosive than any cock-centered orgasm I’d ever had. Yet still, what a mess I’d made!

My pudding was literally everywhere. I’d somehow managed to pepper my own hair with small droplets, and there were more of those all over the place. I’d hit my own chin with a sticky blast, left numerous large splashes on the counter – including a tremendous puddle welling in the sink — and painted the mirror above the oak vanity with a long, crazy white streak as well. The old riddle, “What’s gray and comes (cums) in quarts?” (answer: an elephant) popped into my head for the briefest instant. Apt.

I still stood, but just barely, trembling, knees shaking, slack-jawed, as my breathing gradually returned to something near normal. I looked at myself, turned on the water, wet my hands and began to wipe my face off, rinse the sink. I was shaking my head, eyes closed, in disbelief, returning to earth, when his arms wrapped around my belly, a hug in reverse, and his face appeared around my body in the mirror, looking around to find my reflected eyes. “You okay?” he asked quietly. He looked great; flushed, kind’ sweaty, hair tousled, mouth slick, but I think he was stunned himself. When he began to survey things on this side of my body, his mouth, too, fell open, eyes growing wider. A crooked, satisfied smile grew.

“I don’t kn-…. Yeah, I’m fine, but…” the words were hard to find. The truth was I’d probably never been better, but the greater truth was I’d probably never be the same. Not after something like that. I looked in the mirror. I felt new, but it was still me. “I don’t know what to think, to say. I nev –”

“Hey, relax. You don’t have to define it,” he cut in.

“But I do, Barry. Everything…how you touch me, what you — you don’t understand, Barry, how unbelievable that was. I have to –”

“I was there, “he interjected, “and it was amazing. YOU were beautiful. Now relax!”

“But I don’t even know what that was. And I didn’t do a thing, it was you. I mean, I know I came – Shit, I’ve never come like that in my life, it was so, so, so amazing. You make me feel things, God — so alive, so good. I’ve never felt anything close…”

“I think you should I did some things I’ve never done before either, to anyone. It just seemed -– well — I wanted to. It was right. I guess maybe I got a little carried away, but…you do know how much I enjoyed this too, don’t you?” he asked.

I slumped to the floor facing him. “I’m so glad you got carried away,” I laughed. “But you do know,….there’s no way I can leave now,” I mused. “At least not until I get you back for that….somehow,” I added slyly, only partly in jest.

I really liked the look that comment elicited.

For I didn’t want to stop. I wanted more….from him. Even more than that, to give more of myself….to him. And I wanted to do it now.

Sure, there was some sense of feeling like I owed him (how could there not be?), but it was more gratitude – and full-blown lust, if I’m being honest — than obligation that I felt right then, plus I knew any pleasure I could give him would be reciprocated in full; clearly I’d found someone who’d please me no matter what we tried. It was a clear win-win proposition. And honestly, I couldn’t think of anything I didn’t want to try with him.

But there was absolutely no doubt in my mind about what I HOPED to try next. I can honestly say that before that day I’d never thought about another cock for more than an instant, and never in a sexual way, but I’d thought about Barry’s a few moments before in the full heat of our encounter, and it was on my mind again now. Seriously on my mind. In a more contemplative, purposeful, constructive way.

I had big plans for it already, but the first thing was to arrange a meet and greet….straightaway. I didn’t even know if he’d want to do what I had in mind, but he seemed open-minded enough, and he’d been eager enough to put his tongue back there. So why not something else? It might take some persuasion, but that could be fun, too.

And if I had my way, and if he would agree to it, Barry would be doing something else to my butt before long. After what had just happened with him, I couldn’t help thinking about it. Let’s just say that with him, I’d quickly developed a taste for more. And, it seemed, a habit for doing more than I ever thought I would, too.

Barry HAD more, that much I knew. I was already feeling a bigger, more fundamental need back there, and from the looks of things, there could be no doubt that Barry would be able fill it AND THEN SOME. I knew I’d found someone who could scratch any sexual itch I had, however deep. And right then I was feeling a growing hunger, but not for food.

“Somehow it doesn’t seem fair,” I announced in a steady voice, “that one of us has to be naked, while the other gets to keep his clothes on.” I caught his eyes, let him see mine drop and fix on that big bulge in his jeans. “So….?”

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