Cock-Sucker - Testimony Ch. 03: Wolfie

My own participatory arousal means that, depending on the circumstances, I might stuff a handkerchief down the front of my pants in preparation for my own climax, have you ever tried to stop it? You can't, it's impossible, or - if we are sufficiently private, release and relieve my own burning erection. To avoid the crusty white stains on the inside of my pants. I become paranoid about spunk-stains on my clothes - my spunk or his, betraying what we're doing. I check out my clothes self-consciously, rubbing out suspicious spots and white flecks that others might pick up on. While his unpredictably regular demands makes this the most intensely sexualised period of my life. Especially that first month. Especially the first two weeks of that first month.

It's like I've lost all sense of separate personality. As though I've no identity, no soul, no independent being of any kind other than this sexual role that consumes me from first waking at dawn with a fierce Morning Glory. During the day I never know when the word will come, or how frequently, so I'm permanently psyched-up, on edge, in sexed-up readiness for his call. Just because it's already happened today doesn't mean it won't come again later, and I have to be ready even in moments when I least expect it. That awareness is always there gnawing away at the back of my mind, inducing persistent sluggish erections that just won't subside.

But maybe what's worse than this one-track mind is that far from objecting to my servitude, I feel secure and safe. If I get agitated when I get the call from him, I'm more fretful when I don't. The first time he doesn't summon me during the day I'm in a nervous agony of uncertainty. What does it mean if an entire day goes by without him face-fucking me, does that mean he's tiring of me? Is he bored with me already? Does that mean he's about to dump me in favour of some new cock-sucking kid, some fresh pliable new meat? Is he fucking some new boy's mouth... even now as I'm sat here worrying? Has he found someone else who does it better than me, or different, or does something else, something I don't do? What will my life be like if he has, and he leaves me in the same terrible vulnerable void I'd experienced when Dean left? Where is he? What's he doing? Why hasn't he called for me?

I keep glancing down at my watch. It's getting late, and he hasn't called for me yet. What should I do? Hang out around the places we do it and hope he'll notice me, as an indication that I'm ready? Find Dread and send a message to Wolfie that I'm available? Try to find Wolfie and ask him if I can do it... like that first time I steeled myself and went to Dean's bed? Or will he be offended? I'm getting jittery. There's an unmistakeable stirring in my pants at the very thought of it. Perhaps I'm already into a cock-junkie's withdrawal? I want to do it to him, I need to. That evening in the dorm, when he makes it obvious he expects me to blow him I'm so relieved that I go at it with ravenous enthusiasm. It's such a relief when all those doubts are washed away with another mouthful of his spunk. I'm pathetically grateful.

Afterwards he looks down at me. "You really love doing that thing, don't you?"

I smile up at him, my mouth messy with his sperm. "I suppose I must do."

Am I playing a part? Telling him what he wants to hear? Or is there truth there I daren't even admit to myself? Words can deceive, your mind can play tricks on you, but your body never lies.

He laughs low in his throat, a sound something like a snort of derision, and stretches his legs. "You used to do it for Dean? You used to go down on him?" It's the first time he's properly spoken to me.

I nod, affecting coyness, looking away shyly. Why deny it, he obviously knows anyway.

"Who's best, who do you like to suck the most, him or me?"

I pause, as though hesitant. "It was fine with Dean, he was nice. I did it to him pretty much every night, and doing it always got me hard. But to be honest, it's better with you. I like sucking your cock more. I get hard just thinking about doing it to you. Your cock is bigger."

I respond eagerly, blurting it out. No guy can resist that. Am I talking too much? He doesn't need my mouth for that purpose. My mouth is not for speaking.

Then, recalling my earlier fears, "If there's something else you want me to do, y'know, something else, anything, that's fine. I'm up for it, I'm ready for whatever you want to do."

I don't really know what I'm offering, or what I'm suggesting, but just feel some gesture is necessary if I'm going to hold his interest, and maintain his protection. So, although there's no fundamental change, it does mean that me sucking him off, having me at his sexual beck and call is no longer a novelty. It's a wake-up. I'm going to have to up the stakes.

On one occasion I'm in his dorm submissively crouching to suck Wolfie as Dread keeps watch, and Dread hisses "Hey Wolfie, can I have a turn? I'm busting my nuts here."

Wolfie grunts, "OK, but hurry up, I've not cum yet."

And they change positions. Wolfie pulls his jeans up and takes his position at the door, while Dread crosses to the bed, drops his pants and sits in front of me. I'm befuddled. What else can I do? This is more or less the scene I'd once scarily envisaged with me, Dean and Hooch. Me doing two cocks, one after the other. But haven't I more or less offered to do whatever Wolfie wants me to do? Now he wants this. Dread has watched me sucking Wolfie off on a number of occasions, he knows what I do. It's not as though I can pretend otherwise. But I've never had this cock in my mouth. I've never tasted this one before. And it does feel a little odd to be crouched ready, in full expectation. From the door Wolfie keeps glancing across, watching me, waiting, seeing how I'll react. I can't hesitate. But now I'm about to do it, it's not so scary. It's just a done deal. My permission or consent is not required. I have no choice.

His olive skin is smooth and athletic. He's uncut, and big. Long, but not as thick as Wolfie. I reach up to hold it, smooth the foreskin back, carefully exposing the glans, feeling the latent power lurking within, it swells and moves in response to my touch, I lick the tip warily, experimentally, and hear him gasp somewhere above me, then I take it into my mouth. It tastes of sweat, and possibly dried spunk. I'm flustered, but can't deny I'm excited by it too. There's a fine sheen of perspiration on his gut, his legs twitching with excited tension. His tongue is hung out and he's panting like a dog.

As I begin applying suction he goes into moaning and gasping so loud that Wolfie laughs "Hey, shut the fuck up, you wanna alert the whole place to what you're doing?"

Dread lies back on the bed, totally splayed out, drawing me up to follow him, with me facially affixed to his crotch going suck-suck-suckity-suck-suck, he puts his hands over his eyes, then pulls the pillow over his face, stifling his animal exhalations as best he can, as his pleasure escalates. In truth, his nervous excitation is not exactly unpleasing. The fact that I'm supposedly the victim, the submissive, the subservient partner, yet I'm the one provoking such extreme reactions in him. I'd assumed he was used to being blown, maybe he's not used to being blown by a mouth as skilled as mine? Some may consider what I do 'bad', but I sure am good at doing it.

He's flexing the muscles of his stomach as my sucking makes thrilling slippery sounds up and down his cock, he's moaning way down in his soundbox, the cords on his neck standing out stiff and hard like ropes. Then he's twitching and jerking like he's undergoing some terrible electro-convulsive therapy, until he suddenly gloops slick pearly liquid into my throat with a jubilant whoop of joy. I gag back on it as it spurts into my mouth, once, twice, three times, then again. As it gives one final shudder and ooze of spunk, he slides his wet cock free and moves aside so I can finish Wolfie.

They're bantering over my head. "I'm not sure I wanna stick my dick back in there now you've messed it all up," leers Wolfie. "I do have certain standards, you know."

"It's alright, he's swallowed it all like a good little cum-slut, haven't you, boy? Open your mouth, show Wolfie... see, it's all gone."

I wait, crouching there, until Wolfie decides to allow me to suck him to completion. He shrugs, as though generously conceding 'what the hell?' And I move in to get his cock back in my mouth again.

On another occasion Dread approaches me and says "Wolfie says to follow me."

So I follow him. He takes me into the toilets, down towards the cubicle at the farthest end called 'Frenchie's Hole'. It's the one known to be used for sexual assignations, not all of them consensual. I'd seen boys dragged in there unwillingly, and come out some time later sobbing. I was expecting Wolfie, but as Dread hustles me in and shoots the bolt it's obvious he's not about to show. Dread pulls his denims down. His big cock horizontals, aimed at my face, serpent-hooded, bobbing menacingly before me. I eye it suspiciously, caught between lust and reason.

"Are you sure Wolfie knows about this?"

"Course he does. You calling me a liar, boy? You want me to go tell him you refused?"

"No, I'm not saying that... no."

"So what you waiting for? Just get nasty with it."

I crouch down to suck him off, holding it at the base, angling it into my mouth, still uncertain, my thoughts conflicted. He'd obviously liked what I'd done to him before, now he wants more. I'm hoping he's going to keep it quiet, so as not to make things too obvious to anyone outside, but as soon as it slips in between my pursed lips he goes into moans and grunts so loud everyone must hear it.

"Fuck... that feels good. Shit... suck that thing."

I feel my face colouring, flushing, I try my best to make him cum quickly by sucking harder but he just keeps going, pushing it deeper into my maw. I put my hands up around the bare curves of his ass and hold him to me, feeling his muscles quivering. Despite my misgivings the oddness is affecting me, so much that I have to release my own erection and wank it rhythmically, which makes him laugh all the more.

"You dirty whore you just love getting face-fucked, don't you?"

I guess I must, my reply is only a muffled 'mmmmm-mmmm' as I pump out my spunk onto the damp toilet floor, moaning and gurgling out my agonised ecstasy around his choking velvety cock. I can tell he's trying hard to hold back, to delay cumming, but the way I'm working him it's impossible, until finally when his convulsive orgasm starts, his triumphal roar must be audible to everyone. His throbbing excitement persists as I gulp and swallow he looks down at me with a sneer of satisfaction, pulls back playfully, indicates the last belch of sperm oozing from its red eye, its pearly whiteness standing out in sharp contrast against his darker skin pigmentation, I dutifully lean in to lap it clean. Its consistency is blandly tasteless. Unlike Dean, or Wolfie, or even Ian. But the action of my lips around his moist glans makes a juicy slurping sound. Make it good, keep him happy.

"I don't recall telling you to stop sucking it" he sniggers.

So I resign myself to keep working it, although now, as we've both come, it hardly matters any more, so I suck on the bulb of its softening afterglow.

"You really enjoy sucking on cocks?" he says, more conversationally now.

"Some more than others" I say, allowing myself the dignity of preference. Not stating an opinion about the one I'm tonguing now.

Eventually I'm allowed to slink red-faced and confused out of the cubicle, Dread swaggering after me, zipping up his pants, watched by a couple of snickering kids. Will they tell what they've seen...? Will word get back to Wolfie about this? Does he know already, or does he know nothing about this...?

Later still I'm with Ian and tell him all about it. Ian finds the situation amusing. Yes, Wolfie and Dread have always been close friends. When no-one else is available it's assumed they toss each other off - which is obviously what they were doing that first night, before my arrival in the Dorm, that's why Wolfie was already hard and sexed-up. They'd also intimidated other younger guys and used them sexually, against their will. The fact that I'm now providing that outlet freely is saving some other poor kid from stress and humiliation.

But now there are two aspects. If Wolfie knows and has given Dread the go-ahead to use me, then my reluctance to comply would be bad, and anyway, what's another blow-job? No big deal. He's shared me once, no doubt he'll share me again. That's part of the deal. And by the same token, you can't blame Dread for trying it on, and getting a freebie. But you don't want to get tangled up in politics between them. If Wolfie doesn't know, and later finds out I've been giving Dread head too without his knowledge, he might dump me. Another part of the 'Protector' deal is the exclusivity.

As it is, Dread only tries it on with me once again. He leads me into a sheltering copse of trees in the grounds, and drops his pants. He's fully already erect this time, in impressive anticipation of what I'm about to do to him. Dubiously, I go down on my knees in the moist grass to suck him as before. I look up at him indecisively, then get it in my mouth. There are rustling sounds in the foliage, as though someone is approaching, but is probably just the breeze stirring the leaves. His hands are resting on the back of my head as his hips begin to make slight fucking motions into the back of my throat.

I break off halfway through, draw back so I'm holding its slippery dribbling bulb an inch clear of my mouth. "Are you sure Wolfie knows about this?"

His hands impatiently increase pressure on the back on my head, attempting to force me back onto it. I resist.

"What's it matter to you? C'mon, don't stop, get it back in your fuckin' mouth. I know what you fairy-queers are like. You can't tell me you've not been sucking other guys. And it gives you a hard-on too, which proves you like doing it. You can't say different."

It goes back into my mouth for a single determined suck that makes him grunt and squirm in response, then I draw back again.

"No, that's not true. I do it for Wolfie. I do it for him."

Having made my point I resume sucking him meekly and docile. If there is someone hiding out there watching this, Dread's so much on a blissed-out sexual high he'll certainly not notice, and from where I'm kneeling all I can see is his stomach and groin, except when he wriggles and I catch a fleeting glimpse beyond. If there's a secret voyeur watcher, and he tells Wolfie...? I imagine Wolfie in a nightmare scenario telling me 'you were observed sucking Dread's cock' and I'm stammering 'but he told me you knew and you'd said it was alright!' and he says 'No, you're lying, you're just so spunk-greedy you couldn't resist sucking his cock, that's all. Well, you want to suck Dread off you can suck him off as much as you like. But as far as you and me are concerned, it's finished. I've already got a new cock-sucker, one I can trust' and in my scary fantasy I'll be sweating and pleading with him 'No, he deceived me, I was doing it for you, honest! It's your cock I want to suck, please give me another chance to go on sucking it, please!'

Dread is fine, he's got a nice cock, I've no real objections to sucking it, other than that I need Wolfie to be my protector. I can't afford to lose that. Dread comes nowhere near close when it comes to protection. In fact, although - so far as I know, there's no actual penetrative sex involved, as Wolfie's friend and known-accomplice, Dread also benefits from Wolfie's protection too. So I can't risk losing Wolfie, I can't.

And all the while I continue mouthing Dread throat-deep until he comes in his usual noisy messy climax. By then it no longer matters and I'm caught up in the heat of it. I can feel his balls pulsing tight up against my throat as he empties into me. Not entirely unpleasantly. The more I get used to his cock, the better it becomes. But it never happens again after that, so the conundrum is resolved. Once or twice, as I'm being hustled off for yet another session with Wolfie, I catch Dread watching enviously from the corner of my eye. As though he's weighing up the odds of trying me again. But thinks better of it at the last moment, for fear of offending Wolfie. And I try various ways to make my sucking Wolfie better, more enthusiastically and inventively, just to make sure he's never tempted to dump me.

Meanwhile I also mention to Ian the disturbing dream about being used by my mother's creepy boyfriend. "Was that real, did that actually happen? Is that the reason why I am the way I am?"

Again Ian proves wise counsel. "The mind can do weird stuff. It can blank out memories. It can self-censor. So it might just be that you were abused by this creep, and it left a legacy of buried memories. But there are other explanations too. You are the way you are because you were born this way. We're all different. We all have tastes and preferences. We ain't nothing but mammals, you see what they get up to on the TV wild-life documentaries. They eat and shag each other. That's all they do. This is a highly sexualised situation. Sometimes things you fantasise about, things you might once have desired - even subconsciously, can seem real. You've got to be careful. It was a dream. Just a dream. Maybe a wish-fulfilment erotic dream. Something you subconsciously wanted to do, but never did. Who knows? In which case, nevertheless, it was a dream. Nothing more. Probably."

Yes. That makes sense. So throw out those dreams and dream them no more. Sometimes I don't always trust Ian. There's something about him I can never quite fathom, something impish and mischievous. As though he's born to be wicked, but is being good for as long as it proves to be useful, for as long as it amuses him, while he carries that wickedness around within him transmuted into a sort of teasing gaiety. He's a bad boy, others know it, and he knows it. And as he's being good, that badness is mounting inside him. He's the closest thing I've ever had to an actual friend, but I don't always trust him. He's manipulated me, although I'm happy to be manipulated.

"You've never actually been forced to do anything against your will, have you?" he persists.

I think of that first night with Dean. Not forced, not exactly. Forcefully persuaded, perhaps? But then again, not much force was necessary, I was only too easily persuaded. But it was Ian who made my decision easier. He has a silver tongue - in every sense of the word, either using it to run rings around the head of my penis, or using it to run rings around my thinking, making all this perversity seems reasonable and perfectly normal. And wasn't it he who'd fixed me up with Wolfie? He was match-maker.

So, "No, I've never actually been forced."

And the armchair? I can clearly recall the stains. Perhaps I now know how those stains got there? Or is this just some kind of confusion of dream-memories?

"I hate it when women say 'willie'" Ian says, on another occasion. "It's a demeaning way to make it sound silly, inconsequential."

"So what do you prefer? Male Member. Private Parts. Penis?"

"Penis is too clinical, like a textbook."

"Cock. Dick. Todger. Prick?" I offer.

"Sure, Pizzle, Knob, Pecker, Phallus, Dong, Prong, Schlong, Tool, Tackle, Meat-Sword."

"Meat-&-Two-Veg?"

"No, reminds me of dull suburban Sunday lunch."

"John Thomas?"

"No, too DH Lawrence."

We start laughing. He says "What about Pecker, Chopper, Tool, Wiener, Joy-stick, Crown Jewels?"

"Mayonaise dispenser."

"Spunk-spurter."

"Boner, Shaft, Dangly bits?" I suggest.