A few years ago, Frank decided to do a little experiment and documente
d his progress along the way. He dubbed this experiment: Cum Across America: A Cross Country Taste Test. This is part 2 of Frank’s story. If you haven’t already, you will want to read part 1 of Frank’s story, first.
I Want to Suck His Cock Now!
He’s clean and smells like soap and musk. I want to suck his cock and I want it now! I pull him out and stare. He’s circumcised, about six inches long and thick enough around that my fingers barely meet when I close my hand around his throbbing, hard cock.
He sighs, slightly, and takes a sip of his whisky, rests his other hand on the back of my head. It’s a gentle pressure, nothing I couldn’t resist. I bend down and take him into my mouth. His head is warm and slides over my tongue like silk, and my cock wakes up as he comes in past my teeth, his hand sliding into my hair and setting a gentle rhythm.
Sucking His Cock Makes My Own Dick Rock Hard
One hand works under my mouth, sliding up and down his shaft, slipping down to stroke a finger along his balls; I maintain my balance with the other, leaning it alongside his leg. His legs are hard muscle inside the cotton, his balls cupped there inside his pants while his cock and my head bob in his lap is salt, like the sea, and the aftertaste of the whiskey in my mouth.
My cock is pushing on my zipper, almost painfully, and I want to take my hand out and stroke my cock while I’m doing him, stroke myself out right there in front of him and leave a stain under the chair for their maid to wonder about. I’m not wearing underwear just for this reason but this is the first stop on my trip and he’s a powerful man, a hard man, so hard in my mouth and under my fingers and with his hand in my hair that I don’t do it. I’m a little afraid, still, even while his hips jerk a little and his hand holds my head tighter and I can sense his other hand gripping the whiskey glass, tensing.
His Salty Cum Hits the Back of My Throat
I’m a little afraid even when he cums for me, when his head goes back and I’m all the way down his shaft with his pubes getting up my nose while his salty cum hits my throat, fills my mouth with the sea and chlorine and the smell of money. I try and pull back, my neck strains, but his hands have held sailing ropes and billion-dollar contracts and there’s no softness in him, no give, as his hand shoves me down for one last slurp. Then he eases up, slides his fingers back to cup my neck and I gently lick his cock clean while he softens and shudders under my lips.
Henry Vows to Find More Cocks for Me to Suck
I don’t stay long. he sees me out, at ease, relaxed, amused. He says he’ll call some folks, send me contact details in an e-mail. People who he knows are clean. He knows folks all across the world, but I’m only going cross-country. My little taste-test road trip, cum across America. We always do road trips from east to west here, like we’re mimicking the history of white folks conquering the land. I nod and he nods and I leave, the taste of him still there along the back of my throat, and partway down in the woods with nothing but blackness outside my car windows I stop and jerk myself off so hard I cry out in the car, alone.
The Scent of My Cum Mixed With His Fills My Nostrils
I bend my head and smell the scent of my own cum, taste its familiar tang, compare it to the lingering memory of his. I’m sour and spicy, a little bitter. He’s almost pure salt with a touch of something green and dark. I restart the car, turn the headlights back on, and drive down to my motel; but I don’t sleep that night.
I don’t sleep until the sun comes up and I can get the image of him out of my mind, standing against the windows with the sun coming off the sea sparkling on his walls and shadowing his face, lighting his hard hands and the amber of his whiskey glass.
That’s it for today, pets. Check back tomorrow for part 3 of Frank’s ongoing story, Cum Across America: A Cross Country Taste Test.
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