Cody

The Game

Last night, I wanted to finish the new season of a show on Netflix. I sat on my couch after dinner and since the boy isn't into the show, I let him suck my cock while I relaxed.

Halfway through the second episode, I came. I was still horny, and since the fag was enjoying my cock, I let him continue.

Fifteen minutes later, I finished the episode and I finished down his throat for my second load. He showed no signs of being done with my cock, so I let him continue.

I have a game I like to play with my fags that I hadn't played with him yet called, "Not Until You Say Stop". It's basically a game of chicken. Here's how it's played. You let them suck your cock and they see how many loads they can get out of you. First one to blink and say "Stop", loses. It helps when you don't have time constraints and is a simple enough game that I've only lost once.

It was interesting watching him devolve into a true faggot for cock and cum in such a low pressure situation.

The first two loads he worked for eagerly and actively, but after that second load, there was a change in his approach. He started to lose himself in the service. He began to moan with a quiet whimper. His sucking was deliberate and devotional. His rhythms became even and mechanical, but synced with the needs of my cock without me ever having to tell him what he needed to do. It was like he became my "cock whisperer".

He was averaging about one load every thirty minutes. Never let a drop of my seed leave his mouth either. Four hours later, my little faggot trooper was working on load number 7 when he started to show signs of fatigue. After 40 minutes trying to get me to cum, his jaw finally gave out despite his best intentions.

I was still horny as fuck, so I told him to get prepped so I could fuck him instead. He seemed grateful to give his mouth a rest. When he stood up, the front of his jockstrap was visibly soaked; something I would have to ask him about later. He headed to the shower while I prepped the bedroom: lights off, fan going, lube accessible, etc.

When he got to the bedroom, he didn't have time to put on a fresh jockstrap before I snapped my fingers and he immediately dropped to his knees to fluff my semi-hard cock. He had to use one hand to compensate for his tired jaw (an adorably clever solution) while he lubed up his hole with the other.

Once I was hard enough, I picked him up and put him onto the edge of the bed on his back, angled upwards with one of his legs slung over each of my shoulders. I gave him a brief shallow fuck so he could adjust before I grabbed him by the hips and pulled him fully onto my cock. The moment I pushed through his second ring with that thrust, I heard him yelp in the dark as his body shuddered. I know my angles, I know his angles, and I knew I had hit both of his zones to make him cum. Unintentional, but that's what happens when you hit your fag's G-spots.

"You cum, faggot?" I asked rhetorically.

"Yes, Sir," he said through his convulsions.

"First orgasm of the night?"

"No, Sir," he replied.

"When was the first?"

"I came when I was sucking you earlier." I guess that that answered my prior question about the wet spot on his jock.

"Were you touching yourself?"

"No, Sir."

"Good boy," I said as I began pumping my hips again. "What are you?" I asked, thrusting deep into him as his hips began to grind on my cock.

"I'm your faggot, Sir."

Deep thrust.

"Wipe your cum off and eat it. I don't want it on my bed," I ordered.