My wife Lynn and I are really not very compatible; it’s kind of amazing that we got married in the first place. And ironically, I think it was my sex drive that was the catalyst. We were young then, and she loved my attentions; it was an ego boost for her to know I was always ready, willing, and able, and besotted with her sleek and supple body.

But, in many ways, we’re polar opposites. And not in a complimentary or an opposites-attract kind of way, either. You see, she’s a moral and emotional pillar of strength: “Do the right thing, regardless of the consequences.” And she doesn’t give a damn what other people think, either, “Fuck ‘em if they can’t take a joke!” is another of her axioms.

I, on the other hand, am a people pleaser, always wanting to make a good impression and make people like me. She sees that as insincere, lacking integrity, and unmanly.

These traits are evident in our sex life too. I should have married a girl who enjoys hours of foreplay. I would be happy to lick pussy through countless orgasms; there’s nothing more satisfying than satisfying my partner; my orgasm is secondary at best.

But that’s not Lynn’s style. Once her motor is started, she wants to get going, not fuck around (poor choice of words, I know). She always makes me stop licking, sucking, and/or fingering (all of which I’m really good at, by the way) long before I want to.

“Put it in!” she demands, and I obey. She wants PIV, and she wants it now! Not the end if the world, I know - I shouldn’t complain. I can make her cum with my cock too (at least I believe it was real most of the time). But it just doesn’t last long enough for me. As soon as she’s ready to cum (or, I suppose, when she’s had enough) she tickles my balls or my asshole, and that’s the end of that!

We do agree on one thing, though: We both believe that when it comes to sex it’s the man’s job to always be ready, and the woman’s job to say when.

I always initiate, no exceptions. I do it daily - or nightly, often around four in the morning for some reason - and she accepts or rebuffs my advances as she sees fit. Totally up to her. I’m not a rapist, after all, and we both respect women’s rights. And it works. Of course, like all couples, as the years went by, our pattern became routine, less frequent, and maybe a little dull. But it was still working.

Did I mention I have a strong sex drive? I really need to get off daily, so I masturbate a lot - at least four or five times a week (assuming Lynn and I have our typical couple of fucks that week). When I was young, I didn’t need any stimulation to masturbate, but now I started reading erotic stories to accelerate my slowing responses.

Eventually, in my search for new printed matter, I discovered that there were many adult bookshops with video booths in the back. (This was in the 1980s, long before Pornhub and LushStories.)

It soon became a habit of mine to stop by one of the three bookstores in our area once or twice a week, buy a couple of dollars’ worth of tokens, and jack off to lesbian porn. I loved lesbian porn! It had everything that turns me on: beautiful women, sensuous kisses, mouths on nipples, fingers in pussies, tongues on clits, and long, long sessions of torrid foreplay culminating in passionate orgasms.

I remember the joy of spewing a load in those dank little stalls. Strange how the smell of stale cum, the sticky floor underfoot, and discarded tissues scattered about, that seemed so gross, almost off-putting at first, quickly became comfortable to me. The smell in particular is still aphrodisiacal to this day.

I had noticed that some of the video booths had a hole in the wall. These holes were usually roundish in shape, and about waist high. I didn’t think much about it until one day, just as I had pulled out my dick for a nice wank to the girl-on-girl action I had already put in motion with my tokens, my peripheral vision detected a small movement that turned out to be a finger coming through the hole. As I turned to look, I saw an eyeball peering through the hole at me. Well, I tucked up my willy and high-tailed it out of there as fast as I could! No way was I going to let some perv watch me masturbate!

From then on, I was extremely circumspect. If there was no booth without a hole available, I’d take one with, but I’d bend down and peer through the hole to see if anyone was in the other booth and, if so, make sure that they were minding their own fucking business and not mine.

Eventually, there came a day that opened my eyes, as it were. The booth had a hole in the left-hand wall and when I looked through it, I saw a guy sitting in a chair with his back to me, facing the opposite wall. What’s he doing, I wondered. I could see the flickering light of the video he had running, but he wasn’t watching it; he wasn’t even facing in that direction. Then I realized, there’s a hole in that wall too, and as his head moved. I saw what he was doing. He was sucking a cock! Some guy in the booth beyond had put his cock through the hole, evidently to have it sucked!

The naiveté fell from my eyes like scales. A whole bunch of hints I’d been ignoring suddenly coalesced into knowledge. The word “gloryhole” that I had heretofore kind of puzzled over suddenly had meaning. I looked away, embarrassed, and returned to my own business at hand, so to speak. But something like that, once seen, cannot be unseen, and it distracted me so badly that I went through all eight tokens without cumming.

Afterwards, I couldn’t help thinking about what I had seen. Lying in bed that night - it was a no-fuck night - I mulled over my reaction. It wasn’t the cocksucking itself that made it stick in my mind, nor the “gayness” of the act. After all, I knew several openly gay guys.

What fascinated me was the anonymity of it. It looked to me like the whole setup was designed for random encounters; neither party would have any idea who the other one was. And it got me thinking, do guys like blowjobs so much that they’d let a faceless stranger do it?

My experience with blowjobs was pretty much, meh. Lynn had sucked me a couple of times, never to orgasm. It just didn’t trip my trigger; I much preferred eating pussy to getting blown.

The next day, I went back to the store, got my tokens, and went through my privacy check, and settled in. But this time, I dialed up a blowjob video. It was a series of short clips of various pornstars sucking cock and swallowing cum. Now, I don’t know if everyone has the same reaction to scenes like that - I seriously doubt it - so I want to tell you what I experienced.

The first thing I noticed is how hot the girls were; each scene invariably began with sexy body shots and sultry facial expressions. This I expected. The next thing, though, was, OMG, look at the size of that fucking cock!!! I had seen girlie magazines, but not ones with male nudes. And although I had read plenty of heterosexual erotica, when it came to videos, it had all been girl-on-girl - not a male appendage to be seen.

Call me naïve, but I had always assumed that my not-quite-five-inch erect dick was about average. I should add that neither Lynn nor I are what you might call well endowed; I’ve always told her how sexy her A-cup breasts are, and she says my dick is beautifully proportioned, which I now realize could mean that what it lacks in length it also lacks in girth.

So anyway, the size of the cocks in these videos was a surprise, as was the virtuosic facility with which the ladies accommodated them.

There was a third thing about these vids, though, the pièce de résistance, so to speak, and that was the evident joy with which these gals performed the act. I mean, I know they’re actresses, but bliss like that can’t be totally fake, can it? And their joy had two parts to it. There was the pleasure they exhibited in the sucking. I could relate to that - I like sucking nipples, for example - although I did wonder about the taste.

Apparently and convincingly, cocks just feel really good in one’s mouth. And then there was the ecstatic thrill of producing the inevitable orgasm. The joy of making your partner cum. Now that was something I could totally relate to!

So from then on, whenever I patronized the video booths, it was oral vids I stroked to. And I was fully aware from the start that it wasn’t the men in them that I identified with, but the women. Don’t get me wrong: it’s not that I wanted to be the woman, it’s simply that I wanted to do what she was doing.

This was better than lesbian porn. Like lesbian porn, there were beautiful, sexy women bringing their partners pleasure, but this had an additional stimulant, and that was the more blatant visual evidence of arousal and orgasm that only the male organ can display.

What I couldn’t admit yet was that I actually found the cocks themselves alluring, even beautiful. And over time I began paying more and more attention to the cocks. Granted, pornstar cocks are not the cocks of mere mortals like me, so it was easy to slip from simple awareness to admiration and eventually to an obsession, a kind of lust. Because I realized that I was becoming more aroused by the cocks than the women!

Was I turning gay? The thought occurred to me more than once. I found myself repeatedly rewatching certain videos, the ones with the most awesome cocks, jacking off to the sight of their majestic beauty. It got to where visions of big hard cocks figured in all my masturbation fantasies and even, I’m ashamed to say, when I fucked my wife.

Upon reflection, in my saner moments, I realized that I wasn’t interested in men per se, only cocks, so that’s not gay, just perverted, I decided. Cocks! - it wasn’t just their beauty (only God can make a penis!) but also the idea, the prospect even, of pleasuring them, of making them cum, that excited me. Perhaps it was at least partly the taboo, too, the idea that I, a man, would do what only women should be doing.

It got to the point where I had to know what it felt like to have a cock in my mouth! And I wanted to feel it pulsing, to feel the gush of cum in my mouth. I wondered what it tasted like.

Unbeknownst to Lynn, I bought a realistic-looking dildo and learned to take it down my throat. I got terribly excited doing this while masturbating - the gag reflex I taught myself to control was extremely erotic to me. Stick something down my throat and my cock gets hard - weird, right?

And I started catching my cum in my hand and eating it - licking it up and swallowing. That took me a few tries. At first, although the thought of eating my sperm brought me to climax quickly, as soon as I had finished cumming, the desire left me and it just seemed gross. But, on my third or fourth try, I just licked it up really quickly before I had a chance to think about it.

It tasted a little strange, but not at all repulsive. It was with a sense of relief that I thought, this isn’t bad at all - I can do this. It was only later, when I’d had real-world experience, that I began actually to love the taste, to crave it. But more about that later.

So, at this point - I’m trying to be objective here - I am secretly a cock-loving, cum-eating, porn-addicted, adult-bookstore wanker living a more or less normal heterosexual married life. I suppose it was only a matter of time ... Because now when I went to the back of the bookstore, tokens in hand, and performed my self-imposed booth-security check, I was no longer sure it was privacy I was after when I peered through the glory hole.

Maybe I was hoping to find a willing cock on the other side. Eventually I did.

It was a Saturday afternoon. I remember that, although I don’t recall on what pretext I was out of the house; probably, “Honey, I’ve got to pick up [whatever] from the hardware store; I’ll be back soon,” or something like that. It was easier to make bookstore visits on weekday afternoons when my job or my commute could easily account for the extra thirty or forty minutes. But I know it was a Saturday because I remember how crowded it was: all the booths were in use.

There was an “In Use” light above each booth’s door that came on when the video screen was activated. So I had to wait for someone to leave, glad that the hallway was unlighted and hoping that if I kept my head down I wouldn’t be recognized on the odd chance that someone I knew might walk by.

So, this particular Saturday, forever etched on my mind, I claimed the first booth that freed up. Its occupant and I studiously ignored each other as we passed. I closed the door and slid the latch to.

I stooped to peer through the gloryhole – it was on my left – only to see an eyeball peering back at me. I froze for a second, long enough for the other fellow to straighten up and back off, whereupon he waved his naked cock at me and then looked back through the hole. I nodded at him. ‘Yes,’ I thought, ‘go ahead. Give me your cock. I’ll suck it.’

And that’s exactly what happened. I pulled the chair - each booth had a metal folding chair for your video viewing comfort, I had always presumed, although I never used one - up to the gloryhole. I sat down, leaned toward the cock waiting there, and put my lips around it.

It felt completely natural. I liked it immediately. It was so much nicer than the dildo: softer, warmer, alive! It had the slightly salty flavor of sweat and, barely perceptible over the ever present background odor of stale semen, but blending nicely with it, was the musky man-scent of his balls. It was lovely.

I began to suck in earnest, applying suction while moving my tongue back and forth on the underside of the swelling cock. Mmmm, the first trickles of precum were now entering the arena of my oral delight, urging me to suck harder, hungrily.

Suddenly, the door to my booth rattled, startling me. Someone knocked. A voice said, “Is someone in there?” I had a brief moment of panic. Then I realized – I had forgotten to start the video. My screen was blank, the “In Use” light was off. I pushed the chair back noisily and fumbled to get the tokens deposited. The screen came to life.

The guy at the door went away. But so had my little friend in the wall. He was gone, and with him, my opportunity to complete the task. Huge disappointment; I had really wanted to make him cum, to feel that lovely dick pulsing in my mouth, and to taste another man’s sperm for the first time.

But I’d been gone from home long enough. I had to get back or come up with a good excuse. I went home, frustrated, but excited too: I had broken the cock barrier. I had sucked a cock and I knew I would do it again. And as soon as I could.

On the way home, I came up with a great idea that would allow me to spend more time at the bookstore. I would join a gym. There was one just a few blocks from the bookstore, a national chain, so it should be decent. Lynn wouldn’t know how much time I spent actually at the gym...

Well, Lynn thought it was a great idea, “We’re not getting any younger, are we?” she said, “and you’re starting to grow a little pot, here.” She patted my soft tummy.

We agreed that I would go for a couple of hours each Saturday morning. So I started spending the first hour at the bookstore, leaving me a good forty-five or fifty minutes to work out and hit the showers. I had already discovered that weekday rush hours were not the best times to use the gloryholes, anyway; on Saturdays there were always guys in there.

I had success the very next week, my first gym day, and for the next six months hardly a Saturday went by without my sucking a cock or two, and sometimes more. I found every cock delightful, and I knew I was getting pretty fucking good as a cocksucker by how quickly I was making them cum.

I had some regulars too: every cock is unique, and I started recognizing several repeat customers. I even found myself learning to adapt my style to what my regulars liked. I always masturbated while I sucked and sometimes I would cum first, but that didn’t deter me one bit from bringing my playmate to completion. In fact, I had come to love the service aspect of it - being there for his pleasure. And the prospect of receiving cum as a reward for my service was so exciting that it was almost more gratifying that way.

I had my favorites: there were certain cocks that I really loved. My heart would skip a beat when one of those special ones would come through the gloryhole for me to worship. That’s exactly how it felt, like a sacred communion. I loved the way they fit in my mouth, their familiar idiosyncratic moves, and the scent, the flavor, and the texture of a beloved cock and its ejaculate. I would get hard in anticipation when I drove to the store every Saturday.

Oddly, perhaps, I never thought about the owners of the cocks, the men behind the partition. They were just cocks, no matter how “romantically involved” I might have been with some of them.

Then one Saturday, after swallowing three loads from three different cocks and then driving to the gym, I was washing my hands at the locker room sink after peeing - my normal routine on arrival - when I heard a voice say, “Hey, cocksucker!”

My head jerked around toward the sound and I saw a man coming from the showers with a large white towel wrapped around his waist He looked to be about six-foot-one (a couple of inches taller than me) with a tight, toned body. I guessed he was around my age (thirty-eight), maybe a bit younger. I glanced around furtively, panicking a little.

“Don’t worry, there’s no one else in here right now,” he said quietly, stepping up close to me.

“Are you talking to me?” I asked, blushing, my voice a little squeaky and my stomach fluttering with fight-or-flight hormones.

“It’s okay, man, really,” he spoke calmly, soothingly, dropping his towel to the floor. “I like cocksuckers.”

I tried to maintain eye contact, but the motion of the falling towel drew my eyes down, right to his cock. I gasped.

“I see you’re already acquainted ... No introduction needed,” he chuckled softly. “In fact, I’d say you’re very good friends!”

“Oh yes!” I exclaimed, my voice husky now, affected by a completely different set of hormones. “Very good friends indeed...” I reached out and grasped his beautiful uncut cock in my right hand, squeezing it gently. “In fact, didn’t we share a little snack earlier this morning?” My cock was instantly hard, harder than his, though hardly as big.

“Ha ha, good one, cocksucker, I like that!” He smiled warmly at me. “Listen, buddy, can we talk? ... Not here.” He glanced behind him at the sound of the outer door opening. He leaned in to speak soto voce, “Can you meet me at the Dunkin’s across the street? I just need five minutes to get dressed.”

“Sure!” I replied. And then I hoped I hadn’t sounded too eager. It was sad to let go of his cock.

He went out to the lockers, and I left - no workout for me today - and crossed the street, ordered a coffee and sat down in one of the booths. By then he was exiting the gym and was waiting to cross the street. I watched him through the large plate-glass window.

He was dressed like me, in a pair of jeans and a polo shirt. He strode across the street during a brief lull in traffic. He moved well, with graceful, confident strides. A couple of minutes later, he was sliding into the booth beside me. I slid over to the right to make room for him, wondering why he hadn’t sat across from me instead.

“Good, cocksucker, you’re going to be glad we had this chat,” he spoke softly in my ear. I could feel his warm breath on my face. He took my left hand off the table and placed it in his lap. “You do like my cock, don’t you?”

I traced the outline of his huge erection with my fingers. At least nine inches, and very thick in the middle, it tapered a little toward the head that always seemed to be peeking coyly from his tight foreskin. This had literally been my favorite cock since the first time I encountered it three or four weeks before.

I didn’t say anything. I probably looked dazed. My eyes lost focus, and I forgot all about my coffee.

“So listen, cocksucker,” he said, pronouncing the word casually, like he might have said “bro” or “bud.” “You’re very good at what you do.” He smiled. There was a lot of charm in that smile.

“I’m looking for a personal cocksucker. I’m sure you could meet my needs perfectly.” He had turned his head so that he could gauge my reaction, so he spoke a little louder, no longer directly in my ear. “Would you like that? Being my cocksucker?”

The middle-aged woman cleaning a table a few yards away glanced over at us. Had she heard that? I wondered. Not that I really cared. I was intrigued, very intrigued, and flattered, but not a little puzzled.

“I am intrigued, sir,” I replied in a formal job-applicant tone, “What does the position entail? Can you tell me what would be expected in this role?”

“Good, good...” he chuckled, “Glad you asked.” He patted me familiarly on the back and then rested his hand on the back of my neck proprietarily, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Pretty simple, really. Just two things. One, you’ll make yourself available to suck my cock whenever and wherever I want. And two, whenever we’re together, you’ll do exactly what I tell you, no questions asked.”

I was stunned. My mind grappled blindly with the disparate reactions I was simultaneously feeling. ‘Oh my god, yes, suck his cock!’ was one, ‘What the fuck, you can’t just order me a round!’ was another. ‘What about my life, my wife, my job?’ was a third. I’m afraid I just stared for several long seconds, my mouth agape.

Finally, marshalling what remained of my scattered thoughts, I spoke feebly, “Wow ... um ... I don’t know ... Can’t we just ... um...”

He laughed. It was a pleasant sound, deep and sonorous, but there was also an edge to it. “What? Be ‘friends’?” he said sarcastically. His grip tightened on my neck.

“Listen, cocksucker,” this time the word was dripping with condescension. “Do you really think you and I have anything in common?”

I just stared at him, uncomprehending. ‘We’re the same age, we wear the same clothes, there’s the gym, and the bookshop ... We’ve even shared a gloryhole! What the fuck is he talking about?’ I asked myself.

I started to speak, “But...”

“But, nothing, cocksucker!” he interrupted. “You don’t get it, do you? Do you think I would let another man use me the way you do? Like a sex toy, a cum receptacle?” He studied my face for a second.

“Maybe you’re new to this and really don’t understand what you’ve become ... You’re a cock-craving, cum-guzzling pussy. So don’t pretend you’re a man like me.”

He had undone his fly and pulled out his huge, erect cock. It was standing straight up from his lap, and using the hand on my neck, he pulled my head down on it, impaling my mouth.

“See, not only are you letting me do this to you, but you actually like it, don’t you? It turns you on when I abuse you. No real man would allow it. The sooner you recognize that, the sooner we can stop the pretense and get real. I will use you for what you are. You’re a cocksucker. You want to be used. So don’t give me any ‘friend’ crap. I’m not ‘friends’ with my toothbrush or my microwave, either. I just use them.”

My face was all the way down in his lap, his cock deep into my throat, and he was right, I did like it. And I liked the feeling of helplessness, his control over me as his hand pushed me down.

After a brief moment of panic, I had instinctively used the skill I had developed with my dildo - I stilled the gag reflex and relaxed my throat, allowing myself to breathe through my nose and letting his cock slide deep into my gullet.

And I actually liked what he was saying - the way he talked about it. About me. He was right: I did want him to use me. I needed to feel useful. Useful in that special way that was so important to me: to make him cum!

HIs cock in my mouth just reinforced and accentuated my desire to bring him pleasure. So what if I’m not a man? What did that mean, anyway? I had a purpose, and that was to pleasure the cock - his cock - and so doing, please its owner.

With his firm grip on my neck, he started guiding my head up and down his rigid pole, forcing his cockhead in and out of my throat, making little glottal noises, gakh, gakh, gakh, on each downstroke, and driving me to the brink of ecstasy.

‘If he keeps this up, I’m going to cum!’ I thought. It felt that good!

“Is everything okay here?” I heard from above. Apparently, we had attracted the attention of the woman working nearby. “Oh ... my God!” I heard her giggle.

“We’re fine, thanks,” said my impaler. “We’re just having a little discussion.”

He stopped plunging my head as he spoke, holding me down, my nose buried in his hot crotch, damp with my drool. I could smell his balls. I practiced my calm breathing, enjoying the girth of his cock stretching my throat. My cock throbbed in submissive bliss.

“Wow, that’s impressive,” I heard the woman say, “You’ve really trained him well!”

“Nope, I haven’t even started his training yet,” my user replied, “He’s a natural!”

“Really? Well, he looks like a pro. I don’t even think I could do that!”

He pulled my head up. I looked up - I wanted to see this woman who was flattering me. I was proud to have made such a good impression.

She winked at me. “Good job, mister. That’s a mighty big cock you just swallowed!” I smiled at her, blushing. She turned to wipe the table next to ours, evidently wanting to stay nearby.

My cocksman kept his firm grip on the back of my neck, but raised me back up to a upright sitting posture.

“Did you like that, cocksucker?” he asked.

“Yessir,” I responded, instinctively giving him the respect I knew he deserved.

“Have you decided yet? Are going to be my personal cocksucker?”

I hesitated. I’ve always been afraid of commitment, and this was a pretty serious one, without a doubt.

His next statement came in a low but firm voice. “Listen, cunt, I’m not going to ask you again. It’s now or never. If you refuse now, you can’t come begging later.”

He let go of my neck as if to say I was free to go. “I have a really big load of hot cum churning in my balls right now. It’s nearly ready to blow. If you don’t want it, there are plenty of others...”

He paused, looking me in the eyes. “Like this nice lady here. I’m sure she’d be happy to oblige.” He shrugged.

“So what’s it gonna be? You don’t need to say anything. If you want to be my personal cocksucker, just put your head down and suck. If not, don’t. I’ll give you ten seconds.”

My little head must have overridden my big head, assuming that’s where rationality, prudence, and self-regard reside, because within two of those ten seconds, my face was back in his lap and I was greedily applying all my best efforts to win that promised reward.

I heard him grunt. I felt him buck slightly. His cock pulsed. It pulsed again, and again, and forceful spurts of hot, delicious cum blasted the back of my throat. I had pulled my head off his massive missile just enough to keep his spurts from going straight down my gullet - I wanted to taste it all. And I did. I had to swallow fast as more and more kept coming, erupting into my hungry mouth over and over and driving me over the brink of ecstasy as my own cock, in servile imitation, drenched my pants.

A big load it certainly was, and I swallowed all of it. I was quite proud of myself, too.

And then I remembered the significance of my act. I had de facto agreed to become a kind of oral servant to this man, at his beck and call, pledged to obey him.

And I didn’t even know his name!