0 comments/ 46285 views/ 19 favorites Turning Out The Blind By: Coxswain As I look back on my coaching career, I can't help but smile. I have a respectable record of wins and season trophies, a long list of young men trained as sportsmen, and a couple of Most Valuable Teacher awards. I also keep a private list of names and telephone numbers. Men, you see, come in three varieties, and three only: * Curious (wants to try sex with a man, eager to suck a cock, maybe get fucked--a bottom) * Confident (knows how hot man-sex can be but wants to "preserve his manhood," so he accepts blowjobs or performs the fucking--a top) * Blind (has no idea of the world of sexuality available to him, usually has a religious hang-up--a straight) Years ago, when I first came to Hohenpastle University, a coach turned me out--actually turned me inside-out. What he taught me is printed in no textbooks, but it turned out to be the bedrock of my life. In fact, what he showed me about man-to-man sex--demonstrating my asshole as the real ecstasy-machine of my body--gave me my life's hobby when I went on to become a coach myself: showing others. A few days after Coach Niengweik stuck his magic wand up my ass and in the course of a single fucking turned me from an arrogant, anal-retentive teenager into a more rounded, anal-receptive man who saw things from more perspectives. Not long after that, I set myself a goal: to show a bone-solid straight guy what could happen if he just loosened his belt a little. I figured, of course, to find another college student, a guy like myself who had not yet reached Coach Niengwiek's level of consciousness--whose asshole was virgin--but things didn't turn out that way, as things often don't. That afternoon as I walked out of the laundromat with a bag of newly cleaned clothes, I spotted a healthy-looking young man waiting at the bus stop. Close-cropped hair, white shirt and tie, black pants. Very handsome and attractive but very uptight-looking. What the hell. I hopped in my car, pulled up to the bus stop, leaned over, and called through the window. "Where you headed?" He bent over and looked through the window. "Carnaby Street." Clear skin, blue eyes, straw-colored hair. "Hop in, that's on my way." He looked down at me, tugging at his ear, then climbed in, and we took off. I looked over and smiled. "Name's Edgel; what's yours?" He held out his hand. "I'm Elder Sunneray. I'm a missionary for the Mormon church." Damn, I should have known! Then I noticed the big, plastic nametag in his shirt pocket. "Don't you guys go around in twos?" "Yes, but my companion was transferred to another area, and my new companion hasn't arrived yet. In the meantime I have to run my errands alone." Blam! My guy! My Blind! I looked him over more closely. Age 20, maybe, about my age. Built well, stocky, muscular. Pants weren't tight enough to tell anything. I've got to play this carefully. He's a rare bird, and I don't want to scare him off. He went on: "The problem is that I don't know how to cook, so I'll be eating at McDonald's for a few days." He smiled. "What church do you belong to?" Aha, perfect opening. "None. I've been curious about the Mormon church, though." After we'd driven for a while, I took a very casual tone: "I'm going to my apartment to make lunch. Want to have a bite with me?" Again, he looked over at me, thoughtfully tugging at his ear. "Yes," he said cautiously, "yes, thanks! I'm sick of Big Macs." Thanking my lucky stars I had cleaned up my apartment, I drove to my place, unlocked the door, and led him in. My apartment could be considered the Mother of All Bachelor-pads (clean variety), a Temple of Muscle Worship. Around the living room, along with the couch and a couple of overstuffed chairs, was my collection of exercise machines and a set of barbells. The floor was "carpeted" with a large, green, foam rubber mat I used when I did calisthenics and weightlifting. I kept the joint clean, but in the darkness, before I switched on the light, the place smelled like the unmistakable den of a male. Walls in pastel orange, the color of sunlight, heat, suntan, and passion. A few exotic plants brought a little color to the place, each in a large ceramic pot I bought in Mexico, horny pots decorated with naked males in various contortions. My favorite was a pot shaped like the torso of a naked athlete--the large Red Torch flower jutting up from it looked like the thick, hot, fevered-red shaft of his cock, ending in a devilish cockhead with flaring petals around it, like hooks locking that fantastic cock into whatever hole it entered. Elder Sunneray walked into the room, mouth open, tugging at his earlobe. "Have a seat," I said, moving to the breakfast bar at the side, next to the only source of light, the glass sliding door to the balcony. The refrigerator had bad news: two frozen macaroni and cheese and three turkey TV dinners. Turkey it is. "Care for a cup of coffee?" "Mormons don't drink coffee or tea, so the 'intoxicant' of choice is Mountain Dew. More caffeine than Coca-Cola." "Too bad. I don't have any Mountain Dew. Would a Coke do?" "Sure." When he looked away, I poured a good shot of Stolichnaya into a glass, then filled it with Coke. "Here you go." "Ahhh, yeah, that tastes great." Great enough, in fact, that I refilled his glass twice, each time with increasing percentages of Stoli. While the microwave purred away, I directed his attention to a passing police helicopter then turned the room thermostat up to 80 while he looked away. A few minutes later, "Wow, it's really hot in here." "Sorry, my air-conditioning system is on the blink." "It's really hot." I smiled. "You're right. I can't take it anymore. I'm taking my shirt off." I peeled off my shirt, turning slowly to give him a good look at my upper body (of which I was--immodestly, perhaps--rather proud). I'd spent months in this very weight room building myself into a Charles Atlas type. I had even auditioned (and won) a couple of health food/health gym/underwear modeling contracts. "Wow, you're really built." "You look pretty hefty yourself. Are you a football player or something?" "Naw, varsity wrestler at BYU." "Hey, let me see how buffed you are. Take your shirt off. We're all men here." He smiled shyly, again pulling at his earlobe in that endearing little mannerism he had--tugging at his ear when he was uncertain. "I'm not built anything like you." But he unbuttoned that white shirt. Underneath was the strange, silky underwear Mormons wear--apparently one piece, a jumpsuit. He pulled open the wide, elastic collar and pulled his arms through it, lowering it to crumple at his waist. I licked my lips at his upper body. Nice. Hard pecs. Big arms. Washboard belly. "When was the last time you wrestled?" "A year ago. Before I left on my mission." "Show me a few holds." He stood up, looking around the room, at the body-building machines, at the weights, at the flowers in their erotic pots. I wondered what was in his mind, but I had a good guess when he shrugged his pants a little lower on his hips. We took off our shoes, and smiling, a little hesitant, he faced off against me on the soft surface of my foam calisthenics cushion, which had become our wrestling mat. As we engaged each other, struggling back and forth, I accidentally brushed my crotch against his a few times, making sure he could feel the jockstrap-bound tiger in my nylon tank, and--Damn!--he had a hardon, too. In a couple of moves, I was in a hold that controlled his legs. I moved my hand swiftly over his buns, between his legs, under his balls, then sinuously over his crotch bulge, pressing gently (as if I were off-balance), stimulating him, groping his crotch--all "accidentally." All "unintended." A few movements and reversals later, I was surprised when he did the same to me.Yes! I flexed my hips, pressing my bulge into his groping hand and let out soft moans. Damn. He actually started stroking. A few movements later, I fell into a trap he set, and damn, he really did have me helpless. I lay backward over one of his knees as he knelt on the mat. Theoretically he could've broken my back in that hold, so it was a "slap the mat and give up" situation, but instead of flexing me backward into pain, his hand slid down over my crotch--a bogus move: securing me down there was meaningless. Whatever. As I lay powerless over his knee, his hand groping my iron-hard cock, all 10 inches up and hard--I sensed my cockhead sticking up over the waistband of my pants. Still he stroked me! Up and down. Slowly. Sensually. I let out another moan and looked up at him. Breathing hard, he let out a little smile. "Sorry. Guess I got a little horny." He let me up, and I glanced at his pants. Yep, hard cock tenting out the soft wool. "No worries. Happens to everybody. You see hardons in wrestling competitions all the time. Can't be helped." We got up and circled each other again. No doubt about it, his upper body is solid. I got a little horny, myself--no, make that I had been very horny from the first moment I saw him. I moved in close and grabbed him, taking advantage of my superior height and strength. I yanked him off balance then around until I had his back to me. Yeah! By then we were both hot and sweaty, and his moist back against the sweaty hair of my chest hardened my cock to Total. I smelled him. Made me even hornier. With a quick movement, I pinned him against me by crossing his arms across his chest, pulling his hands back toward me. He let out low grunts, struggling as for a second or two I rubbed my hard cock against his ass--I couldn't resist. I should've been more careful, though. He dropped to the floor to break the hold and came up twisting away from me. But there was that handsome butt of his, and I grabbed it in both hands. Nice ass, man, can't wait to bust your cherry! As I pulled him off balance, I also got a very good feel of the strong muscles in his buttocks--my first chance to give him a good grope. My cock grew even harder (if that was possible). But he writhed and twisted, sliding his legs through my arms, and he escaped. A wrestler's countermove. Shit.Next thing I knew, he'd grabbed me, and my face pressed into his naked chest, and with a tripping move, we went down together, his legs struggling to entrap mine. Again our crotches came together. His hardon--even bigger and harder than before--pressed against mine. From then on, every combination sooner or later brought our crotches together, pressing our hard dicks against each other. We almost took turns as the one who "accidentally" arched his hips up to cause the contact. My face was against his chest so often, I gave in and tasted his sweat, even licking at a nipple a couple of times. He was losing control, too. His hand moved across to form another hold, but on its way, the hand slid over my crotch bulge, and for a second--just for an instant--he gripped me tight. Good boy, cop a feel! The more we sweated, the hotter we got in those pants. Also, the more we struggled, the more I got the upper hand--which was strange; I wasn't a wrestler. At one point, I had him (but I think he let me have him) in a hold from behind, like a State Trooper controlling a felon, locking his legs with my own, my right arm under his armpit, my hand locked behind his neck in a half-nelson. I could've forced him to the mat for the winning pin, but I had other plans. I pressed my crotch up into his ass, my left hand holding his chest back against me, then moving slowly, sensually--almost in a caress--my hand slid down his hairless belly to his belt. Then over his belt, and lower, lower, lower. Finally, my hand cupped his crotch bulge, and I squeezed gently, pulsating, gripping his big cockshaft. We were both panting. He even turned his head, my heavy breathing right in his ear. For a moment I thought it was just about "Mission Accomplished," but I heard a soft whisper: "I can't. I just can't!" With a surprise move, he clapped his hands above his head, moving his arms straight up, which lost my leverage under his armpit, and he shot his legs out straight, dropping straight to the mat on his butt, slipping out of my hold like a ferret. Shit. By then both of us were breathing hard and sweating. And excited. We both sat on the mat, catching our breath, looking at each other--and he pulled at his earlobe, uncertain. I forced myself to be calm, to move slowly. I stood up and unbuckled my belt. "We've got too much clothes on." I let my pants drop. Underneath I wore a jockstrap. "Yeah, this is much better. We can wrestle better this way." He looked at me with worried eyes. I smiled. "Go ahead, take your pants off, so we can really wrestle." "But--" --"You can take that underwear off. I've got a jockstrap you can borrow."He stood up and dropped trou--Yes!--and the silky jumpsuit slid to his ankles. He stepped out of it. "Nice cock, man." Couldn't help myself. I was bigger, of course, but he had a good 8 inches, and he was thick. Damned thick. Like as big around as my wrist. Barely grippable. And he was hard! "Fine cock." He smiled shyly. Then he said something I couldn't believe: "Let's see yours." I pulled down my jockstrap, and ol' Siege Mortar leaped out, all 10 inches throbbing and reaching skyward. His mouth dropped open. His eyes locked onto it. His voice was a hiss. "Darn, never saw a penis like that." "I'll get you a jockstrap. You look like you take an XL--like me." Suddenly I got a satanic inspiration. In my bedroom, I grabbed the container of souring yoghurt I hadn't quite finished from the bedside table, grabbed one of my jockstraps from the drawer, and pasted a handful of warm yoghurt in the pouch. Back in the living room, I handed him the supporter, careful to make sure he took it by a strap so he wouldn't notice the creamy pouch. It went better than I could've dreamed: Holding the waistband in two fingers of each hand, he stepped into the straps, and embarrassed to be naked, he pulled it up in a single, powerful yank. The pouch covered over his cock with a slushing sound that I could hear from where I stood, and his eyes widened in shock. I gave him an astonished face. "Oh, god, no! Oh, shit, man, I'm terribly sorry! I just jacked off in that jockstrap earlier today! I grabbed it by mistake!" His face went white. "This is . . . your sperm?" "I'm terribly sorry, man! Let me help you take it off." He looked at me like a drunk (it was possible, he drank a lot of vodka-Coke). "Your . . . sperm is all over my . . . penis!" "Here, let me help!" I reached out and cupped the pouch in my hand. But I didn't pull the nasty jockstrap away. My hand just stayed there. He was hard. I squeezed his cock. He didn't resist, so I did it again. Then I began to stroke him. Finally he spoke: "Wait! Wait a minute!" Breathless. Excited. I kept stroking. "Ohhhhh, hell!" Something about my sperm "all over" his cock really turned him on. After exactly 10 seconds of stroking, his whole body jerked, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he fell back on the mat, his hips lurching. I jerked down the jockstrap to see his cock spouting. Damn full balls! Fuck, look at that! He sprayed a real mess all over himself, from his belly up his chest, neck, and face. I was impressed. I thought only horses cummed that much. He put his fists over his eyes. "Oh, Brother Blaylock, I am so sorry! This is shameful! Please don't think negatively about the church because of my sinful weakness!" No worries, dude. I gloated. This was going to work. I decided it was time to strike. He lay before me, naked (jockstrap pulled down), his hands still hiding his face in shame, moaning, "I am evil, evil! I am a sinner!" I moved closer, put my hands on his shoulders and rubbed them gently, massaging. "Hey, that's okay, man. Perfectly normal. You know as well as I do that guys sometimes ejaculate in the wrestling ring." He paused. Finally he said, "Yeah, that's right." Soft voice. Hopeful. "You've got a big, cock, Elder Sunneray. A man with a dong that big--" --"Not nearly as big as yours--" --"will have problems if he doesn't get sexual release." I smiled. He smiled back. "We don't get to date girls for two whole years." "So you beat off?" "We're not even allowed to do that." He looked down. "At least, we're not supposed to." After a long pause, he looked up at me again. "Let me see your penis once more." His voice sounded like rubbing velvet. I instantly yanked down my jock, and he murmured, "I've always wondered what angels looked like under those white robes." He stared at my rapidly inflating cock. "I bet their cocks look like yours." Cocks! He said "cocks"!! "You're so hot," he went on, "God must have cried when you left heaven." Damn, he isdrunk. But who cares? I tossed an old sock at his head playfully. "Hey, you're going to turn my head with talk like that." "You must be what God was thinking of when He said, 'Let there be man.' " By then my cockhead was slippery with drools of precum, and he stared even harder as each burp of clear, slimy liquid oozed out. Finally he shook his head as if to clear it. "No, I've to get out of here--" --But I put a hand on his shoulder. "How can you do it, man? How can you go without girls for a whole two years?" He settled back again, his head down. "Sometimes it's hell." I kept my hand on his shoulder. "And you really don't jack off for two whole years?" He looked up with miserable eyes. "We're not supposed to." He sighed. "I'm really a self-righteous, bossy hypocrite. We're not supposed to go swimming, you know--" --"What? Not even a summer swim?" "No. But I went swimming at Piriapolis Beach." He paused. "And I masturbate. Can't control myself. I'm a sinner." An opening! "Well, look, man, it doesn't count if you don't do it yourself." I licked my lips, dropped my head, and slid my lips around his big cockhead. "No, I can't do that, can't let you . . . Ohhh, my god, yes! Suck my cock!" I had to make this a quickie, no time for him to reconsider. I jacked the lower part of his shaft and bobbed my head up and down over the head. I figured he would be horny, what with two years of no sex or even Rosy Palmer. Sure enough, after only 30 seconds or so, he stiffened, preparing for another orgasm. At that point I worked a finger into his asshole, and that shock blasted him into Valhalla. He growled loud and climaxed, his balls pumping his jism up in big arcs. He fell back, delirious, moaning wordless sounds. Finally, "Ohhhh, god, what did you do to me?" "Just helping you out, Elder Sunneray. Taking the pressure off you." I smiled. "Don't you feel better now?" He sighed. In his afterglow. "Yeahhh. Damn, I feel good." I dipped my finger in the jism on his belly and brought it to his lips. "Your sperm, Elder Sunneray. It came out of your own body. Surely it can't be a sin to taste your own cum." He licked at it. Yes! I scooped up a gob and brought it to his lips. He sucked it all up. "Thank you, Brother Blaylock." He looked down. "You've been so good to take care of me." He looked up again. "What can I do in return?" To cut a long story short, five minutes later he sucked on ol' Siege Mortar, and I blew his cheeks out like balloons when I shot him my load, which he swallowed, every drop. He was ready. I had just one more preparation for him. As he lay back, savoring the taste of my jism in his mouth, I pushed him past one more line in the sand. I grabbed his feet, lifted them up, and pushed his legs back toward his chest. It was an eerie moment--he didn't know exactly what was coming, but he knew it wasn't going to be saintly. Turning Out The Blind But he was too horny to do anything but watch, panting and eager. Poor guy. Nothing was familiar. He'd never been in a situation like this. I spread his ass-cheeks and bared his rectum. Next thing he felt was my tongue diddling around his puckered hole, and--as I expected--he lurched up like I'd dashed him with a pitcher of ice water. But I held on because my tongue jabbing at his sphincter would overwhelm him like the vodka-Cokes had loosened him from his inhibitions. "God!" he yelped, shuddering like an epileptic fit. I knew lightning bolts were shooting up from his hole, the most intense sexual arousal of his young life, and I showed no mercy. My tongue circled, twisted, poked, and diddled his poor rectum until he was panting so hard I worried he might have a heart attack. I looked up. His cock had hardened into an iron bar any man would be proud of. Poor guy. His head lolled back and forth. He was in a fever, craving he didn't know what. He had a terrible, overwhelming itch, and he didn't know how to scratch it. So I showed him. His legs were still pulled back to his chest, but by then from his efforts--he gripped his knees and pulled them back. He was drunk with lust, and somehow opening his asshole to the open air brought some sort of depraved satisfaction. The clenching of his asshole was all I needed. He didn't know what he wanted, but his asshole did. I moved over him, placed his feet on my shoulders, leaned forward, and pushed. We were a good fit--my cock touched his asshole without any adjustment. The push, though, was--in spite of his whole body below the neck getting ready for it--was a complete surprise to his brain. "Wha--What?? What are you doing??" That's a meaningless question. Powerless. Like "Don't hit me with that pie." The only thing that can follow is, "You hit me with a pie!" As he got out the last word, my cockhead popped through his rectum, and he ended the question with a scream. He suffered a big stretch. A virgin always had a hard time with ol' Siege Mortar, but there was nothing I could do about it. Elder Sunneray was tight, damned tight. I was aware of every vein, every bump, every fold of skin on my cock as each popped by the tight noose of his rectum. Sunneray was also brave (and horny). His eyes were full of pain, but he fought it. Finally all the way in, I held still in him, letting his asshole stretch out into mature manhood, and as always, the miracle began to work. Slowly his expression relaxed from one of stress and pain first to wonder, then to satisfaction. I let him enjoy a moment of peace, then I settled back on my knees and started the first out-stroke. Slowly, smoothly, smearing the lube and his gut-juices over my shaft, I pulled out until we were connected only by my cock tip, then I slid back in just as smoothly until he had all he could take--then pushed and wriggled a little more, rearranging him inside until with a groan of triumph my crotch hair ground once more into his balls. By then he was enjoying it. He moved his arms above his head, wallowing in the new sensations, and the thickness of his underarm hair turned me on. I bent forward to bury my face in it. Yeahhh! Between my own moans in the pheromone-factory of his right armpit, Elder Sunneray lowered his left arm to grip my butt. "What a stud!" His voice was deep and hoarse. Our smells--his armpits, our sweat, the powerful aroma of sex--had me fuck-drunk. "You're a natural, Elder. Never met anybody who got used to it so fast." By then I was pumping with regular fuck-strokes, slamming my pelvis into his, jolting his whole body, and he looked up at me with a grim smile. "Yeah," he gasped. "I love fucking. I love it! Guess I always would--just didn't know it." I smiled. "Or admit it." His body jerked below me as my full-length lunges shook his frame with a wet, schluck-schluck sound, and he smiled shyly and grunted in pleasure: "Yeah--big cock--makes me--see truth." About then, my orgasm built, and the fucking got serious. No more intelligent conversation, both of us clicked into Animal mode, lunging and thrusting at each other, groaning and gasping. Big drops of sweat fell from my nose and chin onto his face, and my sweaty chest slid over his almost like in a slimy lube. Elder Sunneray's ass was stretched out good--he was deliciously tight around my cock, and from his energetic counter-fucks, I could see he was happy to have me inside him. Suddenly I got an inspiration. This boy had to learn cocksucking sooner or later. With a mighty effort of will, I pulled out--immediately he groaned with disappointment. Seizing both his legs, I forced them even farther back over his shoulders to the point his hips came off the ground, his back curved, and he was balanced on his shoulders, his crotch right above his face. His hard cock hovered right above his mouth, and he stared at it, his eyes full of both wonder and fear. Figuring to let Nature take its course, I stepped over him, straddling his upturned buttocks, and I forced my throbbing cock downward--and that took a bit of effort. A cock designed to point up when hard takes a little convincing to point down. While pushing Elder Sunneray's crotch gently closer to his face, I let my cock soften enough to be pushed down, and I sank it back into his upturned asshole. When he felt the "I'm baaaack!" stretch of my cockhead through his butt again, he gasped, closed his eyes with pleasure--and sucked his own cock into his mouth. Yes! I spread his legs apart so I could see his face. When he opened his eyes and looked up at me, still sucking on his own cock, I smiled. "Mmmm!" he grunted. I hadn't had such exciting sex in quite a while. Elder Sunneray was one hot fuck. No doubt from a lifetime of repressed feelings finally loosed and bursting out like a broken dam. He clenched his asshole around me from time to time, a real natural. My orgasm started again, and I hoped somehow I could get him to cum with me. I would love to see him gulping his own jism as I shot mine up inside him. The angle wasn't exactly a perfect fit--I'd never fucked down and up before, and we didn't have long before the tight curve in Elder Sunneray' back would become painful--so as I sank it in balls deep and pulled it back up again, I got an idea. Bending over as tightly as I could, I arched my own back, bringing my face down to my own crotch, almost as if trying Sunneray's self-suck, but instead, with a final push, I reached his scrotum with my mouth, and I sucked his balls. Incredible! I began fucking him with all my might, mouthing his balls, even squeezing them gently, just enough to give him a little bit of pain to push him over the edge. And it worked. The weird fuck-position turned me on so much, an electricity flowed through me and into him, and from his growing moan, I could tell he was on the edge, too. He opened his eyes and stared straight into mine. Neither of us could talk; our eyes communicated. It hit me like a landslide. I saw spots before my eyes and I swear a shower of sparks where my cock entered his ass. The ecstasy overcame me, and so dizzy I could hardly breathe, my body passed my boiling essence to him, and as my spurts shot into his ass, his body jerked. For a long, white-hot moment, we were frozen in time, a clear-crystal statue of a man sucking himself while another fucked him and sucked his balls. When that point of maximum pleasure finally faded, and the fires gradually burned down. I released Sunneray's scrotum from my mouth and straightened my aching back. I pulled my softening cock from his ass and assisted him to lower his legs gently back to the bed, pulling his cock out of his mouth. He looked up at me with dreamy eyes. When he smiled, big strings of cum dribbled from his lips. "God, what a fuck," he murmured. "I drank my own sperm." His eyes grew dreamy. Exhausted from our wrestling matches and fuck session and aching from the gymnastics of his first fuck, we lay back on the mat, cuddling each other. I nuzzled his ear. "So what does your cum taste like?" His voice was sleepy. "Thrilling. Like liquor, I guess."-- You know better than you realize--"and . . . familiar . . . somehow familiar." He kissed my nipple. "I love it." We cuddled a little more, then fell asleep. We awoke an hour or so later--it was dark outside--and he had moved to spoon up against me, my cock nudging into the crack of his ass. When I shifted, he awoke, and he rolled over to face me. "Good morning, sweetheart," I murmured. "It's still night," he whispered. His face was so close to me, I couldn't resist. I looked into his eyes and felt myself falling back through time. I had been very masterfully taught in the ways of man-sex, but not along with any affection. My fingers swept through his short, blond hair. He placed both his hands on my face. And it just happened. I lowered my lips to his, and they touched and merged together. It was not a kiss of experimenting kids, but the kiss of two adults, two men who had found each other. I held him to me, and his tongue slid inside my mouth, mine into his. Our tongues stroked in and out, renewing the hunger we just shared. When we finally broke the kiss, our eyes looked deep into each other's, and I was awed. Never felt a kiss so powerful. God, I need him. His head nestled in my shoulder, and I felt his voice vibrating through my chest as much as I heard him: "I love you, Brother Blaylock. Never met anybody like you." He paused. "My soul-mate is you." That led to another 10-minute kiss. Damn, have I found my mate, too? Again his seductive voice: "I've tasted my own cum. Now I want to drink yours." My heart pounded in my ears as he lowered himself slowly down my body, kissing all the way, kissing each nipple, pausing to diddle my belly-button for a minute or two. His voice was low, a deep, manly bass (no more of the timidity) as he reached my crotch. "Got to admit it, I've wanted to do this since the second I felt your jism in that nasty jockstrap." Oh, shit, if only he knew! But a moan escaped my lips, and I lay my head back in ecstasy as his lips slid down over my cockhead. He couldn't suck much of me, of course. I learned long ago that I'm too big for human mouths; to me a blowjob is licking my cockhead while the guy jacks me off, but I was hot to let Sunneray do whatever got him off. My man. Wow. What will our life be like together? He sucked and jacked me to another climax, a warm and fuzzy one. My mind was full of romance: I'll take care of you, Sunneray. Maybe we'll go to Massachusetts and get married. We got up, plodded into the bedroom, arms around each other, and settled into the bed, still hugging. Turned out his new companion would not arrive for 10 days--"They trust me because I'm a Senior Companion and experienced in the missionfield. I can be trusted to behave until my next companion arrives." For the next 10 days, Elder Sunnary stayed with me, and we had sex in every imaginable way (and some I can't remember; god, I can't even imagine them anymore). Often we fell asleep with my hard cock still up Sunneray's ass. Often we woke the next morning with my softened cock still inside him. And often the Morning Woodie caused me to harden up before I woke, meaning the morning could commence as the night ended, with my cock thrusting up through Summeray's asshole. But it came to an end. Elder Sunneray's companion arrived, and he went back to his apartment and his old life. I was stunned. I was only a college student, and I thought he was my lover. He told me dozens of times that he was. Already I was thinking in terms of joint checking accounts, double beds, and tossing out my stock of rubbers. But I never saw him again. I think of him from time to time. In many ways we were two virgins: he as a man yet to discover the incredible possibilities in his own body, I as a man who had not yet had the intense psychological experience of watching the implosion of another man's lifelong beliefs. I hope life has been good to him. The techniques I learned as I taught him the truth have been used on many other men, and their first anal orgasms were the legacy of Elder Sunneray.