Musings as I Drive: My First Cock

 Behind the Wheel of my Ford Focus—October, 2024

 

As this self publishes, I will be driving into central Indiana to do a two-week gig there.  Driving always gives me time to think.  I love to mull over the unwritten posts, figuring out what made them even slightly different from another.  Making notes on a clip board I keep handy.

I do have a few September adventures to write up and, as of yesterday, two from October.  Which is a good thing as I am not sure I will have time to do much in that line while in Indiana.  However, I know I have one day off and that will be spent at the Fornication Party being held in Chicago.  If all goes to plan, I will be playing with some familiar porn names on next Sunday, once again.  Keep your fingers crossed it all works out.

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The first cock I ever sucked was my own.  As I write this, I don’t know how I ever thought to try.   There certainly wasn’t any kind of picture porn in the early 1970’s that I could get my hands on as an adolescent.  My dad did buy the first edition of Oui magazine in 1972, the offshoot of Playboy, and there were two naked men, not erect, in that issue.  They were the first I’d ever seen.  I was fascinated, finding it tucked under his bureau.

For I was on the lookout for sexual material that my dad brought home, as I had found a fair amount as a kid and then more, as a teen.  David Reuben’s Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex…was in his closet.  I read the homosexual chapter and was appalled.  (Now I’m appalled at the mis-information he spread in that chapter.)

But my dad had actual porn.  Never pictures.  He had novels.  The first two I found, in a brown paper bag, stashed in the barn, had luridly drawn covers of men and women getting ready to jump into bed.  The covers were barely pornographic, published in the late 1960’s.  And I was too young to bother to read them—I just kept looking at the drawings.  (I finally read one of them—and even at 13 I hated that “His turgid member forced its way into her maidenly valley…” kind of writing.)

In the early 1970’s, the genre of books I managed to find (under the front seat of his car, in the camper stored in the barn, in a wardrobe down in our Michigan cellar) began to change.  They were bi-sexual.  And I began to read them.  In another year, they were gay—with covers that ripped off Tom of Finland in style.  And now, at 13 or 14, I devoured those.

So likely, in one of those stories someone self-sucked.   And I wanted to try it. 

I could not just sit there, lean over and connect.  Being really, really thin and flexible got me close, but I couldn’t even lick the head.

I certainly tried rolling up on my back and pulling my ass/hips forward.  Nope, not quite.

But going heels over my head, with my dick coming down at my open mouth, and with my head on a pillow—I could just get the glans into my mouth.  I licked and licked. 

It was reading one of his gay books, that gave me my first orgasm. I was sprawled on the couch on my stomach, fully clothed.  My pelvis began grinding the cushion as I read -- and it happened. I was shocked.  The feeling was overwhelming—I thought I’d given myself some sort of heart attack.  I went right to Mr. Reuben and figured it out.  It was a dry one—or the tiniest bit of wetness.

That changed fast.  Especially as I combined jerking until I was almost there, with rolling up and over and finishing in my mouth.  Easier clean up, too—no holey sock needed to mop up the jizz.

I got out of the habit in high school.  (I never touched another man until college.)  Self-sucking was uncomfortable; even as bendy as I was, it ground my vertebrae into my thin mattress. 

I told my life partner all about this early on in our 30 years together.  Of course he wanted to see me do it.  And at 21, I still could.  And suddenly he was eating my exposed ass as I self-sucked.  Bam!  And it was suddenly back on the sexual menu for a few more years…

And I never even attempted this one…