Seeing approval on their faces, I
swallow. It takes two attempts to move all his sperm into my stomach. My tongue quests outward and
upwards, gathering as much of the sperm gracing my face as it can. It is aided by the index finger
of my right hand which scrapes the remainder toward my mouth. Again I swallow and finish up by
sucking the final remnants off my finger. Despite my best efforts I know my face is shiny with
smeared come as is only proper for a cocksucker. This come hasn't been wasted, it is a visual
representation of my status. It cries out "Look at me. I am a cocksucker. I can be your cocksucker.
Let me pleasure you." Quietly with my head semi-bowed but my eyes on his face I thank my friend for
sharing his essence with me. Having observed the proper dicklicker etiquette I turn to Mr. Grambs.
His ebony tower is reaching toward the sky as he says "OK Webster let's see what tricks you can do
with a man's rod." ---------------------------------------------------------------------------
------------------------------------ The Arrangement 5, a continuation of a true story: I hurt.
There's no other way to put it. My jaw hurts from the effort of taking in two cocks at once. My
thighs hurt from squatting in front of my friend. My lips hurt where they were mashed against my
teeth as my friend's dick sawed in and out of my mouth and I have carpet burns on my knees from
sliding on the rug. But these are good hurts, aches which come from fulfilling my function of
drinking sperm. What is it they say, "No pain, no gain?" As always happens once I've been fed a
mouthful of cock, my worries have gone away. That's not to say they won't come back, they will. But
a dick scraping across my tongue is a better tranquilizer than any drug out there. All I worry
about now is nursing the cum from down deep in those balls to down deep in my stomach. Evan and I
had an arrangement. I'd suck his cock and he wouldn't tell anyone. And he didn't. But yesterday,
Mr. Grambs had caught me with my friend's dick in my mouth. Now I have the same arrangement with
Mr. Grambs. I'll suck his cock and he won't tell anyone. Mr. Grambs has asked what tricks I can do
with a man's rod. I'm ready to show him one my friend and I came up with about a month ago. I ask
Mr. Grambs to close his eyes. He does, a small smile playing across his face. Reaching into the
front pocket of my crumpled pants, I pull out a tiny brown bottle. After unscrewing the cap, I pour
a small amount into my right hand (I'm left-handed). Careful not to spill any of the liquid not
puddled in my palm, I replace the cap and set the bottle on the floor. Above me Mr. Grambs nostrils
open a little wider as the scent from the liquid reaches his nose, Acting with some haste I cup his
cock in my palm, smearing the liquid the length of his rod. Then I slather the remainder of the
thin fluid over his wrinkled ball sack, blowing on his nuts as I do. Now it's Mr. Grambs turn to
jump. "Damn Webster, what the hell are you doing? That burns like a son of a bitch." Evan, who
knows what is going on, just laughs and tells Mr. Grambs to wait a minute; that it will feel much
better in just a little while. Content to let my friend sooth Mr. Grambs' verbal complaints, I
begin to lingually appease his stinging balls. As my tongue strokes back and forth on his scrotum,
I continue to blow gently against his testicles until the initial blaze has ebbed to a gentler
warmth. By now the unmistakable aroma of vanilla extract has perfumed his crotch and wafted upwards
to tickle Mr. Grambs olfactory sense. My friend and I had discovered the effects of vanilla extract
by accident. It was back in the days after he stopped using rubbers but before I was willing to
swallow. I had been putting the vanilla on his dick to mask the taste of his cum. (We couldn't
always get into the liquor cabinet to steal rum.) Some of it ran down to his balls and he started
bellowing like a poorly played split trombone. After my breath had calmed the worst of the pain,
his dick grew even harder. It felt good, warm and tingly my friend told me. His balls were more
sensitive and my tongue felt even better than it usually did. He said he could almost feel his nuts
filling up with extra sperm. When he came, it did seem like there was more jism than usual, I
filled up two Kleenexes spitting it out. (We experimented with some other extracts; peppermint
tasted good but the burn went on too long; lemon was too sour and so we stayed with vanilla.) Now
Mr. Grambs was getting the vanilla treatment and, from the moans he was making as I took the head
of his dick into my mouth, he was enjoying this particular trick. I moved my head as close to his
stomach as I could get, the sweet taste of vanilla mingling with the blander gooiness of his
pre-cum. As I thought, his dick was just too hard to get it to bend down my throat as I did in the
basement. I concentrated on moving up and down as quickly as I could, my hands massaging what was
left of the extract deeper into his balls. "Jezzus Web, that's nice. Keep going kid, I'm gonna give
you a real mouthful today." Looking out of the corner of my left eye, I can see Evan is hard again,
his fist moving up and down on his rod as he watches me service Mr.

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 Grambs. Letting go of the black
man's balls, I reach both hands forward to cup his ass cheeks and pull him towards me until he was
barely perched on the edge of the couch. It was time for alternate plan B. I uncurled my lips from
around my teeth and began allowing the edges of my incisors to scrape against his wood, increasing
the pressure with every other stroke. While my right hand returns to caressing his balls, my left
hand bypasses his hanging sack to squeeze his buttocks. In rhythm with my mouth's alternating
decent and ascent of his cock, my left middle finger begins to insinuate itself into the crack of
his ass, rubbing back and forth like the pendulum bar of a metronome. My friend is now standing
close to me, his cock at face level, his hand keeping rough time to my slurping beat. Mr. Grambs
breathing deepens and his body starts to stiffen up. It's time to make my move. Halfway through my
next downstroke I curl my finger upward and, without any warning, thrust it past Mr. Grambs anal
rosebud and into his ass. This maneuver was a triumph and a disaster. Evan had tried to cornhole me
several times during our sex play. Each time I stopped him because it hurt too much. But I found I
liked the feel of something small in my ass as I masturbated, the nozzle of an enema kit was a
particular favorite. I thought Mr. Grambs might like it as well. With a roar Mr. Grambs sprang
forward from the couch, driving his dick deep into my unprepared throat in the process. His
sphincter tightened around my finger, my struggles to remove it simply changing its position and
depth. Grabbing a hold of my shoulders with his hands Mr. Grambs began to come, and come, and come.
At the same time I felt sperm splashing against the side of my face as my masturbating friend shot
his wad all over me. Even as Mr. Grambs tries to back his dick out of my mouth, I begin to choke.
In a series of dual pops, first his dick and then my finger exit their fleshy tunnels. But it is
too late. With sperm beginning to stream out of my nose, I cover my mouth with my hand and run to
the bathroom where I am sick to my stomach, laughter from the other room coming as a
counterpunctual to my noisy distress. Still kneeling in front of the toilet, I manage to kick the
bathroom door shut, offering some privacy as the tears mingle with the streaks of come decorating
my face. After a few minutes, I stand and flush the toilet. The sound of laughter in the living
room has been replaced by the echo of foot steps down the wooden hall. "Hey Webster, you OK in
there son," asks Mr. Grambs, his usually gruff voice softened with a note of concern. I mumble
something noncommittal. "Why don't you clean yourself off, get dressed and come on back out. Your
clothes are outside the door. Playtime's over for now, we need to talk." I wash my face and fill a
paper cup with Listerine from a heavy round glass bottle. As I gargle the mouthwash tastes as sour
as I feel. I wish I could spit out the humiliation with the mouthwash, watch my embarrassment go
down the drain. I dress slowly wishing I could just vanish, that I could make myself invisible and
leave without Mr. Grambs or my friend seeing me. Yeah and if wishes were horses we'd all ride to
work. My face burning, I go back to the living room. It's stubbornness, not pride, that keeps me
from averting my eyes to the floor. Both my conquests have dressed. My friend is a chair leaving a
space next to Mr. Grambs on the red and yellow couch. His meaty black hand pats a cushion next to
him, inviting me to sit down. "Webster, I want to apologize to you. I didn't have no account to
laugh at you like that and neither did Evan. Sometimes when people are all worked up and excited
things seem funny but they ain't. I'm sorry. "There ain't nothin wrong with what you did, cept you
surprised me. You surprised me a lot. That vanilla thing threw me one curve ball, I sure enough
wasn't expecting you to stick that finger up my butt, that's why I jumped up the way I did. I have
to admit it felt good though, that's why I shot as big a load as I did." He paused for a second and
smiled. "Well, that and the fact I ain't come since you blew me in the basement. I was saving up a
big one for you." I smile a little too, starting to feel better. "Web, Evan tells me you're going
be back to visit his grandmother again next month. My wife will be back but maybe the three of us
can go to the movies or something. Would you like that." "Yes sir Mr. Grambs, I would." "Good, it's
settled then. I'm looking forward to it. You all best be going now. I'll see you in a couple of
weeks." I was just a step or two down the hall when Mr. Grambs got my attention again. "Hey Web." I
turned to see him wink as he said "I'm gonna hafta teach my girlfriend your trick with the finger."
If you've liked this fifth installment of a true story please let me know at webdazell@yahoo.com
Note to all readers. The actual events portrayed in these stories took place in the mid-sixties.
Most of the practices outlined here are now too dangerous to indulge in in this the era of AIDS.
Please practice safe sex only. 

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