The Mark

The moment he walked into the bar, I knew he was the mark. The hesitation at the door, the quick glance around, the bee-line to an empty table in a dark corner, he might as well have "NEOPHYTE" emblazened in flashing neon across his forehead. He was reasonably good looking, in his early 30s, medium height and build, perhaps a bit overweight, but still a looker. The indentation around his left ring finger was as blatant as his manner.

I stared at him long enough for him to catch my eye, and then quickly diverted his to the table literature. How enthralling a beer list can be when the sheep is in the wolf's den. I took my time nursing my beer. Didn't want to scare him off. Let him get used to the place, used to the idea of why he's here.

He put the beer list down and leaned back in the chair, trying with all his might to look comfortable. I decided I had waited long enough and made my move before someone else did. Virgin wool is high in demand and rather short in supply.

"You drinking alone tonight?" I put on my warm, "hey, good buddy" face. He looked up and smiled a bit too wide, trying to return the warmth, but obviously betraying his soul, instead.

"So far." He made a special effort to retain eye contact.

"Well, that didn't last long, did it. What are you drinking?"


[Of course.] I flagged the busboy, a flamboyant eighteen year old who's been out of the closet ever since he could piss. "Hey Freddy, two Buds when you get a chance. My friend here has a big tip for you." Freddy shrieked. The mark freaked.

"Don't worry, he knows I'm full of shit. I'm Harry. How do you do." I extended a hand. He reciprocated, and we gripped each other firmly, two men with no doubts about their masculinity.

He donned a reassured smile of relief and replied, "I'm Joe. Pleased to meet you."

"Your wife is out of town?" That was mean, but I wasn't in the mood for pulling any punches. His reassured smile changed to one of utter dismay as he realized that he was as transparent as crystal. Giving in, he held up his left hand and wiggled his naked ring finger.

"You're pretty perceptive. Something tells me I'm out of my league." He started to get up. I leaned over and put a hand on his shoulder, gently, but firmly forcing him back in his seat.

"Take it easy. I don't bite, not in public, anyway. You just look like a nice guy who doesn't particularly want to drink alone. Am I right?"

He shrugged. I had about 15 seconds to get him to relax, otherwise he would be out the door in a flash. I decided to talk about him by pretending to talk about myself. All he had to do was listen and develop a kinship with his id. Sure it was a mind fuck, but so what. Marks are always searching for their own identity, and this was a technique with proven results.

"A couple of years ago, I was sitting where you are right now. I was married to a very nice girl whom I loved dearly. It tore me up inside to think that I might be gay, and she was the last person in the world I would ever want to hurt. I had to make a decision, though. To be true to myself, or to be true to her."

I could tell from his eyes that I was dead on target.

"I kept thinking to myself, 'Maybe I'm not gay, but how will I ever know unless I experience it? Maybe I won't like it. Maybe it's just a silly fantasy that one indulges in, never meant to signify anything more than pure lust, not emotion. But the only way to be sure was to try it. Just some simple, anonymous sex, that's all."

I paused glancing at the beer list just to tease him and force him into the conversation.

"...So what did you do?" he anxiously queried, hook, line and sinker.

"I drove fifty miles to a gay bar. There were lots of bars closer, but the chances of someone spotting me were too great. There was too much to lose if my wife were to find out — even if I decided I was straight after all. I've got to warn you, though. You have to be careful. There are a lot of creeps out there, and I met quite a few of them. Fortunately, I never found myself in a situation I couldn't get out of. Now, I can usually tell what a guy is like after sharing a beer with him."

Freddy appeared with the drinks. Perfect timing. The mark pulled five bucks out of his wallet, but I beat him to it flipping a fiver onto Freddy's tray. "My treat this time. You can buy the next round."

He paused, worried about the commitment he was making, but it was too late; Freddy was walking away. The drinks were paid for, and now he owed me the courtesy of his company for the next half hour. Rather than be rude, he resigned himself to his fate and smiled an "Okay." Bingo. Another notch on the bedpost.

"How did your wife handle the divorce." He spoke in a sly, 'I can put 2 and 2 together, also' tone of voice.

I smiled, held up my left hand and wiggled my naked ring finger. Unlike his, mine had no indentation, inferring that I had been divorced for quite some time, except that I had never been married. I let him have this one anyway.

"See? We two aren't so mysterious." I sipped my beer. "To answer your question, she was hurt, of course. But we had some gay friends who helped us both through the crisis, and she eventually came to grips with it. We both wanted each other to be happy, and we realized that being married to each other was not going to achieve that goal. She remarried, but we're still good friends."

A nice rosy picture. I couldn't tell him that usually these divorces are real hair-raisers. Who knows? Maybe his really will be amicable.

"When I saw you come in here, I saw myself as I was two years ago, unsure about what I was doing, feeling that I was betraying my wife. But finally one day I took a good hard look at the other guy in the mirror, and he said, 'Harry? You've got a problem. You love your wife, but you hate yourself. Number one has got to come first, or you will end up destroying everything you love. Face it, Harry. You are homosexual. You tried to change it by getting married, but it didn't work. It never does. Lots of folks make that unfortunate mistake, but it doesn't make this any easier. What's done is done. You can't change the past, but you can change the future. You have a painful decision to make, but the longer you wait, the deeper the grave.'"

He was riveted to my reflection. I was the guy in HIS mirror. What I was saying was nothing new, but it had never been verbalized so astutely.

"I can't tell you how glad I am that I finally made that decision. There is nothing so satisfying as being honest with yourself. It was like being 'born again,' if you'll pardon the expression. There is a whole new world outside of the closet, and I wouldn't go back in for anything. I'm gay and I'm glad! All the internalized hatred is gone, and now I can get on with my life."

He looked down at his beer, pondering his dilemma, then mumbled, "I don't know...It's just not as simple as that. I mean, I know you had a tough time coming out and all, and I think it's great that you feel so good about it, but I'm just not as sure as you. I CAN make love to my wife. There must be some sexual attraction, otherwise that would be impossible, right?"

"Let me ask you one question. Who do you make love to in your dreams when you masturbate? Five bucks says she has a penis."

He sighed, then opened his hand, and a crumpled five dollar bill tumbled out onto the table. With his thumb and index finger he flicked it into my lap, then sighed in depression.

"Hey, buddy, you're not alone. Probably half the guys in this bar have been married. The other half probably still are!"

"But how do you deal with AIDS and discrimination and fag bashing and all that shit?"

"Let me tell you, it's not as bad as you think. Everything you know about gay life was told to you from a heterosexual perspective. Newspapers, TV, tabloids — they're all on the outside looking in. They don't understand us so the sensationalize us. Sure that shit goes on, but that shit has been going on everywhere to everyone for centuries. It's nothing new. Just show a little common sense and care and you'll do fine. 'Don't walk alone in Central Park at midnight.' That's the only philosophy you need to know."

I was making progress. He was lightening up. I kept the momentum going.

"I'll let you in on a secret: sex is one of the best perks of being gay. You know how women are always complaining that men don't know how to make love to them? Well, vice versa! Women have no clue what feels good to men, and unfortunately, men cannot communicate this to women. There is no way that they can fully understand a man's needs. The only way to know is to be a man. When a man and a woman make love, sparks fly. When a man and a man make love, you're talking Krakatoa!"

I looked at him as earnestly as possible.

"Look, you're obviously uncomfortable about this, and that is perfectly understandable. I'm not going to play games with you, I'm going to be very direct. I honestly find you attractive. Do you find me at all attractive?"

That was mostly a rhetorical question. What else could he say? He blushed, but squeaked out a "Yes, I do."

"Okay, then. That's all there is to it. One night of anonymous fun. I'm pretty sure you'll enjoy it, but if you don't, no harm done. We shake hands and go our separate ways. You can go back to your wife feeling a little more worldly knowing once and for all you're not gay. Hell, it will probably even improve your sex life." I winked at him. "But I got to warn you, if their is a gay bone in your body, you will know it by tomorrow morning!"

He thought about it for a minute, then slammed his beer on the table. "What the hell! Let's do it."

"I like a man who knows what he wants." Of course, he had no clue. This was too easy. "I got a place three blocks away. It's not much, but it's private. Shall we dance?" I stood up from the table.

"You lead," he replied as he rose. He was hard as a rock. That was encouraging. I slapped him on the butt as we made our way out the door, perhaps foreshadowing this evening's entertainment. As we went outside, we encountered two German Shepherds in the doorway, humping like there was no tomorrow. I glanced at the mark and winked. He blushed on command.

"Pardon the mess. You remember what bachelorhood is like, don't you?"

He nodded and smiled while quickly scanning the living room to see how a real queer lives. I always keep the room conservative just for that purpose. Don't want them running off while they still have their clothes on. His eyes fell upon the statue of David, the one innocuous item in the room that might imply that the resident was gay...or maybe just cultured.

"Would you like another beer." I spoke abruptly from behind him. He turned around with a start. I love playing cat and mouse.

"Uh...sure." He smiled his nervous grin again.

I chuckled and put on another warm face. "Hey, just relax. Kick off your shoes. Make yourself at home. I'll be right back."

I went into the kitchen and uncapped a couple of imported beers. When I came back, he was leaning back on the couch with his feet, sans shoes, up on the coffee table. We were making good progress. I chuckled again to show him my approval.

"Hey, that's more like it. Here's your brew. You like music?" Another rhetorical question, but it was important to explain every action, even one as harmless as turning on the stereo, so as not to overwhelm. He was hooked, but not yet reeled in. If I moved too fast, he could wiggle loose and escape. Neither of us wanted that. I kicked off my shoes and sat down next to him.

"So what do you think of my humble abode." A neutral topic.

"It's very nice...very tasteful." How original.

"Yeah, it's not Buckingham Palace, but it'll do. The neighbors can get rowdy, sometimes. We take turns banging on the wall. But we're all pretty friendly...more so than most condos, I expect."

I casually put my arm around his shoulder. He tensed up then jerked forward.

"Look...maybe this wasn't such a good idea. I think I had better go." He reached for his shoes. Damn! He's getting away. Do something!

I stood up and maneuvered between him and the door, speaking firmly and direct.

"Look, Joe. I don't want to force you to do anything you're not ready for, honest. But believe me, I know what you're going through. I'm just trying to help. I'm not sure, but I'm guessing that it took you about a month to get up the nerve to walk into that gay bar this evening, am I right?"

He lowered his shoes. "Two months."

"Okay, two months of ulcerously agonizing conflict. And this evening you took the first entered a gay bar as a gay patron. Come to think of it, you took the first three steps: you entered a bar, got picked up, and went to another guy's place all on the first try. Shit, as far as your peers go, you're way out in front, and that's great!"

He stared right through me, perplexed. I was making sense, but he needed more convincing.

"I know it takes some people longer to make this decision than others. To tell you the truth, I didn't sleep with the first three guys who picked me up. The guilt would never let me do it. But Joe, please listen to me when I tell you, the guilt does not go away when you walk out that door. You know why? Because the guilt you're feeling is not the guilt of betrayal to your spouse. It is the guilt of betrayal to yourself. Please, please believe me. If you walk out now, you will not be free. You will be back in that bar after another two ulcerously agonizing months. But this time, I might not be there for you. And, if I do say so myself, you were pretty lucky that I was there today. You'll have to trust me on this. I know you don't know me from Adam, but I just don't want to see you go through the hell that I went through. The road to self realization is full of a lot of potholes, my friend."

I put a hand on his shoulder. He looked up into my eyes. It was working.

"You are a sensitive, intelligent, principled guy. And I really do find you attractive."

He smiled, somewhat embarrassed and flattered at the same time.

"There is the door. You can leave anytime you want. But before you go, all I ask is that you take just one more step." I looked deep into his eyes. "Let me kiss you. That's all I ask. If you can't deal with that, then go with my blessings." He was trembling, but I knew he wanted to do this. I slowly approached him, our eyes locked together. I tilted my head slightly to the right, and gently brought my lips to his. He closed his eyes. I put my arms around him. He dropped his shoes and hugged me back. Success! Together we hugged hard and kissed hard with a passion worthy of _Gone With The Wind_. I flicked my tongue out briefly touching his lips just to see what would happen. He responded by inserting his tongue deep into my mouth, probing all around, reaching for my tonsils. I pressed my groin against his. He pressed back and rubbed against me, our throbbing cocks separated by an eighth of an inch of fabric. At long last I had him in the boat, and now I was going to have fish for dinner.

We broke apart gasping for breath. Then we both started to laugh. I put my hand tenderly back on his shoulder.

"Wow! That was a mighty big step. Neil Armstrong's step was mouse nuts compared to that! Did you feel the earth move, too?"

"It WAS pretty good, wasn't it." He was opening up, like a flower greeting a new dawn. "This is amazing! I actually did it! I got to first base with a man! My God, I think I'm in love!!" He collapsed on the couch, laughing and grinning with pride over his accomplishment. I joined him. I knew he was confusing the exhilaration of the moment with love, but I thought I'd take advantage of it anyway.

"See? It ain't so bad. We didn't get struck by lightning. The walls are still standing. Everything's just fine. We're just two guys enjoying each other's company. What could be more wholesome than that?"

He burst out in a fit of infectious laughter. I couldn't help giggling myself. I was really starting to like the guy.

"First base! Man I haven't heard that since junior high. What are we, a couple of prepubescent teenagers necking under the bleachers!?"

His laughter doubled its intensity. He was turning red and tears were forming. I let him wind down by himself. I didn't want to kill him. Eventually, he caught his breath, and wiped the tears from his cheeks.

"How do you feel?" I probed his mind, trying to get him to express himself. It is always much more convincing when the words came out of the mark's mouth instead of mine.

"Fantastic, like a great weight has been lifted off my shoulders! I have waited so long to do that, and it was better than I had imagined!"

He turned to me in earnest, then gave me a bear hug. His ice was melting faster than a Death Valley snowman.

"Thank you so much for your encouragement. I would never have gone through with it otherwise."

He pulled back, paused while gazing longingly into my face, then initiated another hard, wet, passionate kiss. I moved a hand down to his crotch and massaged him while our tongues tangoed. He moaned with desire, slowly bucking his hips against my hand.

"I want you," he whispered.

"I'm yours," I responded, then leaned him back on the couch, our faces still locked together. "We'll take it nice and slow. Anything you want to do. Anything and everything. This will be a long magical night you will never forget." I had him lying flat on his back and I was on top. We ground our hips together doing a prostrate lambada on the couch. I knew that once I had him worked up to a frenzy, he would let me do anything to him.

We continued in this vein for several minutes. I did not want to rush him just to be safe, but mostly because we were both thoroughly enjoying it. He had two months of flaming desire bottled up inside, and I needed to vent it gradually. But now it was time to move on to bigger and better things.

"Shall we depart to the boudoir, lover?"

"I thought you'd never ask," he said.

I smiled, terminated the necking with a loud smack, then got up. I held out a chivalrous hand to assist him, and then we walked side by side to the bedroom with our arms around each others waists, the epitome of puppy love. When we got to the bedroom, I had him stand at the foot of the bed.

"I want to undress you," I whispered as I gently unbuttoned his shirt. I slid my hands into the slit between his open shirt and caressed his smooth chest as I worked the shirt over his shoulders and down his arms. His chest heaved as he tilted his head back and closed his eyes in ecstasy. At long last a man was touching him. I kissed his neck and massaged his naked back, then blazed a trail of gentle kisses to his left nipple.

"Oh God..." he moaned as I sucked and played with it with my tongue, then continued on down. I swirled my tongue inside his navel causing him to inhale deeply as if he were smoking a joint. He brought his head forward to watch my action for a moment, then tilted it back again. In his state he was having some difficulty keeping his balance, but the bed was right behind him in case his knees buckled.

When my lips reached his belt buckle, I knelt down on the floor to get into a more comfortable position, my mouth inches from his cock. I carefully unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his fly and then slowly slid his pants down to his ankles, caressing his legs all the way down. An awkward moment passed as he stumbled out of his pants and socks, but he soon resumed his stance. He stood in his jockey shorts, an average-sized pulsating prick could be seen through several wet spots, yearning to be released. I ran my hands slowly up the outsides of his legs past his shorts and halfway up his torso, then brought them back down again, hooking my thumbs into the waistband and dragging his shorts down to the floor. He stepped out of them more gracefully, and once again resumed his stance. I sat back to behold him, completely naked with his cock jutting out and slightly up, its head slimy with precum. My mouth was watering.

I leaned forward and ran my hands up the backs of his legs while I exhaled onto his groin. When my hands reached his buttocks, I cupped them and began squeezing and kneading. At the same time, I placed a kiss on his pelvis, just to the left of his cock, and let the side of it rub against my cheek. As I dragged my lips toward it and kissed his cockroot, he shuddered and moaned, almost collapsing, but managed to hold on. I continued kissing along the side of the shaft toward the purple fireman's helmet, occasionally flicking my tongue out to momentarily cradle the sensitive skin underneath, like a lizard tongue darting for a fly. As I reached the tip, I turned to face it head on and then slowly engulfed it all the way to the root.

"Ohhh...yeeesss," he hissed as my nose ground into his pubic hair, but I did not linger there. This was meant to be just a quick taste of things to come. I pulled back as slow as I had swallowed him, then continued kissing along the other side of his cock back to its root. I leaned back and looked up at him. He tilted his head forward and met my gaze, his eyes took a while to focus as he returned to reality.

"That was incredible! I could never get my wife to do that. She seems to find it so revolting."

"I can't get enough of it," I said as I stood up and kissed him on the mouth. "And we haven't even begun."

As we kissed, he frantically reached for my shirt, pulled it out of my pants and up and over my head, demanding, "I want you naked NOW!" He scrambled for my belt, but was clumsy in his rush to strip my clothes off. It would have been a lot quicker if I undressed myself, but I let him have his fun and stroked his hair while he unclasped my pants, pulled down the zipper, and yanked my pants to the floor, revealing my bulging black bikini briefs. He gasped at the sight of them (works every time). I deftly stepped out my pants, kicked them under the bed, and then posed for him in a scene that had just been played with the roles reversed. His hands shook as he reached up and curled his fingers over the top of my briefs, then slowly pulled them down, lowering my cock like a drawbridge. His eyes were fixed on the hypnotic motion of my cockhead as he pulled my briefs down to the floor and I stepped out of them. I am sure that it was the first real 3-dimensional hard-on he had ever seen, other than his own.

Without warning, he grabbed hold of my butt cheeks, jerked me forward and tried to stuff my cock down his throat. But he was too eager and inexperienced, not to mention my cock had a couple of inches on him, and he started to gag when I was only about halfway in his mouth.

"Hold on, take it easy. Deep throating takes concentration and practice. Once you learn how to open your throat, you'll be able to swallow my cock AND my balls to your heart's content. But for now, let's just take it slow and steady, okay? I don't want you to hurt yourself."

He let go and looked up at me like a puppy so eager to please. I smiled down at him. [That's a good dog. Obey your master and perform your tricks, then maybe you'll get a reward.] I led him to the bed and laid him down on his back, then turned around and straddled him on all fours, giving him a clear view of my ass and balls. The full length closet mirror easily reflected our profile. It was time for Cocksucking 101.

"The '69' position is the best for learning how to deep throat. By tilting your neck back, you can make the angle of your mouth and throat curve in the same direction as the cock you're about to devour. But before you start, close your eyes, and try to imagine yourself as a sword swallower, taking inch after inch of a razor sharp blade down your gullet. As long as your throat is open, the blade will not harm you, but flinch for a second and your throat is slashed from the inside."

I closed my eyes and demonstrated for him, swallowing his sword with ease until my nose was buried in his scrotum, then pulled all the way out. He watched intently in the mirror, wanting desperately to learn his first trick to delight his master.

"Once you get the feel of it, you can control your throat muscles so that it becomes almost second nature."

I started rapidly mouthfucking him, repeatedly engulfing him to the hilt, then pulling almost all the way out.

"Oh, shit, that feels so good! Yes! Fuck me with your mouth! Swallow that rock-hard dick!!"

I started to heat things up a bit by exhaling hot breath on the forward stroke, then dragging my teeth on his tender flesh while pulling back. That set him off like a bronco. He grabbed my ass to hold on while bucking and thrusting in unison with me. His balls tensed up. He wasn't going to last much longer.

"I'm coming...oh God I'm coming...I'm going to shoot my wad down your throat..."

I pulled away and firmly squeezed the base of his cock. He bucked in protest, trying in vain to continue the stimulation, but his oncoming orgasm was choked off. He was frustrated to the point of tears. My sadistic side was amused, but I also felt sorry for him. This was a necessary evil, like rabies shots: difficult to explain to a puppy, but all for the best.

"What are you doing! I was coming!! I wanted to come so bad..."

"Not yet, my friend, not yet. I don't expect you to understand right now, but I assure you, you don't want to come yet. The longer you hold out, the more intense it will be when it finally does happen. Trust me, it's worth it."

He looked at me with his puppy eyes. He was playing his role perfectly! I had his complete unguarded trust. I could do anything to him. I brushed his face with my hand and gazed into his eyes wearing my 'father knows best' face in order to bring him down gently. He inhaled a deep surrendering sigh and smiled back at me. We nuzzled a bit, then kissed for several moments.

"Are you okay?"

He smiled and nodded.

"Care to show me what you have learned?"

He nodded again and his eyes grinned as he got up enthusiastically to exchange positions. I got down on my back and he climbed on top as I had done, presenting me with his white virgin ass (that would be rectified later). He carefully adjusted his position, occasionally glancing into the mirror to make sure he was getting it right, then crouched down and contemplated the sword before him. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth, concentrating as I had instructed.

"Imagine the sword slowly gliding down. You want to swallow it. You need to swallow it. Swallow it whole...all the way down until there is nothing left."

His lips enveloped my cockhead. I watched as it slowly disappeared into his head. When it reached the back of his throat he started to gag again.

"Don't force it. Just hold there for a moment. Wait for the gag reflex to wane. Just keep thinking, 'I want to do this...I need to do this.'"

He held his position as he was told. He was concentrating so hard I almost laughed, but I had to admire his determination all the same. He took a few deep calming breaths through his nose, then pressed on. I felt my cock enter his throat with no resistance. He learned very quickly.

"That's it. You've got it. All the way down. Take it all the way."

I watched my entire cock disappear from view. He had taken it all but continued to press on, concentrating so hard that he did not realize I had nothing more to offer. He opened his eyes, apparently confused as to why he was encountering resistance. A sidelong glance at the mirror showed him why, and the corners of his mouth spread with a grin.

"There ain't no more, my friend. I sure wish there was, but their ain't. You ate the whoooole thing. Man, you are one champion cocksucker. I'm impressed."

He smiled and snickered, gripping my cock in his throat like a trophy, gloating over its capture. He held it there, trying to get used to the sensation in order to master control over his gag reflex. I was beginning to wonder if I would ever get it back, but he earned it, so I let him keep it for a while. I took the opportunity to play with his balls dangling in front of my face, easily within tongue's reach. I gently blew on them to clue him in on my intentions. (To surprise him now would not be a wise move!) He acknowledged by wiggling his butt, causing his balls to bounce around as they hung low in their sac. I tilted my head forward and jabbed at them with my tongue, like a boxer working a punching bag. I felt a tightening around my prick as he momentarily lost his concentration, but he regained it quickly and relaxed his throat muscles again.

I was amazed at his will power. My first cocksucking experience was nowhere near as challenging as this: a six inch dildo. Yet it still took me a week before I was able to get it down without choking. This fellow had a lot of hidden talent, and I was eager to find out what else he could do. I hooked my tongue underneath his balls and pulled them into my mouth, then gently sucked on them, basting them with warm saliva, which caused him to moan in a low monotone. The vibration of his vocal cords shot through my prick, startling me with a fantastic sensation I had never felt before. I grunted and let go of his balls, afraid I would lose control and bite him. My head fell back on the bed and I started moaning myself. He knew what was happening, and continued with his low humming, while slowly working his head back and forth. His strokes were short at first, as he adjusted to the new sensation of cock motion in his throat. But again, it didn't take him long to achieve pro status, and pretty soon he was driving forward at full tilt, rocking back and forth on his hands and knees, holding his head steady, taking cock all the way up to the balls then all the way out again.

Normally, I kick back when a guy gives me head, and can make it last as long as I want. If I feel like I'm going to come too soon, I just think of baseball or taxes, and the feeling goes away. But his vibrating vocal cords coupled with his expert cocksucking made it impossible for me to think of anything else. I opened my eyes, looking for something in the room to distract me. The first thing I saw was a reflection of two naked guys having a damn hot time on the bad. That didn't help. I turned and looked up. Two hairless glistening balls swung in a wide arc overhead. That was enough for me.

I gripped the bedsheets and blasted his throat. He stopped humming and rocking, somewhat surprised at the sudden turn of events, then smiled and started up again while greedily gulping down my load. Each swallow coaxed another spasm, and each spasm another swallow. It was a wonderfully vicious circle that had no end, and he didn't miss a drop as he emptied my balls. But, of course, it eventually did end, and as my spasms died down, so did his rocking until we both gradually came to a stop. He gripped the base of my prick tightly with his lips then slowly pulled back, squeegeeing its entire length clean and forcing out any remaining cum like toothpaste out of a tube.

He turned around, laid on top of me, then kissed me, letting my own cum enter my mouth. I accepted his offering and wrapped my arms around him, kissing him long and hard. Now I was in love. When we eventually broke apart, he brought his head up and glared at me, expecting an evaluation. I gave it to him.

"Joe, please don't take this the wrong way. I know this was your first time and everything, but you can't expect to always move mountains. Everything takes practice, and with time I'm sure you will improve. Today was a pretty good start, but I just want to say, and again I mean this only as purely constructive criticism from teacher to student, that I am fairly certain, though not absolutely positive, that what has just transpired here today, was, in fact, for all intents and purposes, the best goddamn mutherfucking ballblasting blowjob I have ever had."

He started to laugh, though I'm pretty sure he already knew it. He was obviously as skilled with his mouth now as I was, probably better. The only way to save face was to tease him.

"You completely took me by surprise, my man. I'm sorry I came without warning, but you were just too hot! Come on, be straight with me. You do this for a living, don't you. You're a gigolo! I knew it! How much do I owe you? A hundred? Two hundred? All right, a thousand, but that's my final offer. Come here you little cocksucker, you deserve a spanking for making me come too soon."

I swung an open hand down to his ass, but he blocked it with his arm and pinned it to the bed, catching me off guard. I accepted the challenge. We wrestled on the bed for several minutes, laughing and sweating. We were pretty evenly matched, neither staying pinned for very long. Ultimately we both collapsed onto our backs from exhaustion. I reached for his still erect cock and held it like a microphone.

" two this thing on? Hello? ...And now I would like to get serious for a moment. Could we have the lights dimmed please. Thank you. This next ballad was written for someone who is very kind, warm, and dear to my heart, and never fails to get the bedsheets sticky. It goes something like this:

Sit on my face, and tell me that you love me.
I'll sit on your face and tell you I love you, too.
I love to hear you moralize,
When I'm between your thighs, you blow me away...'

That's all I can remember, thank you."

He applauded. "Bravo! Bravo! Encore! Author! Awful!"

I bowed. "Thank you, thank you very much. You are too kind, really."

He reached for my cock, it had not yet recovered from its earlier vacuuming.

"I bet I can get you hard again," he winked.

"Of that, I have no doubt. You're full of too many surprises, lover." I wasn't sure what he had in mind, but was eager to find out. After a particular good cum session, I usually don't recover for about 45 minutes. He had a challenge in front of him, but I didn't let him know that.

He turned me over onto my stomach and brought my knees forward into a crouched position with my legs somewhat spread apart. Then he put a couple of pillows under my stomach to provide support and to prop up my ass. My cock and balls dangled in the air. I looked like a bitch in heat.

"I want you to close your eyes, kick back and relax. Let me do all the work."

I did as he asked.

A minute went by. Nothing happened.

I opened one eye and stole a glimpse in the mirror. He was behind me, resting on his elbows, apparently enjoying the view. He caught me looking at him.

"Come on, don't worry about me. Just close your eyes, relax and experience."

I obeyed.

Two minutes went by, still nothing. I started to feel a sensation in my cock, that pleasant ache one gets when one's spent cock is titillated back to life too soon before it has completely recovered. I knew his game now: genital sensory deprivation and anticipation. It was working like a charm.

But I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of such an easy victory, so I started to cheat. [Deductible mortgage interest: $950 times 12 months is, lets see, 10 times 950, plus 2 times 950, or 9500 plus 1900, equals $11,400. Ten percent interest is $1,140...] My cock held its own. It didn't go back down, but I was able to halt its expansion for the moment.

[Car registration: $104 minus $24 registration fee leaves $80 deductible miscellaneous property taxes. Business expenses: 50% of $120 for printer paper and computer supplies equals...Shit, my balls are tingling. What the hell is he doing back there?] He succeeded in breaking my concentration by opening his mouth real wide and bearly exhaling onto my balls, not enough to create a breeze, but enough to make them feel unusually warm. I could sense the heat of his face so close to my ass, yet not touching it. The ache in my dick came back full throttle. I gave in to the inevitable, and decided to enjoy the sensations instead of fighting them.

The heat moved from one side of my balls to the other, lightly brushing my pubic hair just enough to make my ballsac involuntarily convulse, but not enough to actually make contact. What a tease. My cock was pounding in 30 seconds.

Then I felt something wonderfully warm on my perineum, and shuddered as he moved a wet tongue around that remarkably sensitive spot right between the base of my balls and my asshole. The warmth spread out as he moved his tongue down the middle of my ballsac, hotly exhaling all the way down until his tongue reached the underside of my balls and lifted them, balancing a testicle on either side. He bobbed his tongue up and down as if to see which one weighed more. I was going nuts.

Suddenly my balls were on fire. I gasped and open my eyes to see what was going on. His mouth had completely engulfed them. His lips pinched them off at the base, like a fish swallowing a baited hook. He wasn't sucking or licking them per se, just heating them up. How could such a simple technique be so intense?! I've had my balls nibbled before, but they never burned like they did now. This guy wasn't human.

I felt my captured balls get pushed around by an interrogating tongue, and then considered the incredibly vulnerable position I was in: I didn't dare move a muscle or intimidate him in any way, as a quick snap would shear them off completely. Yet, the situation was so intensely erotic!

He released his captives and gently blew on them. My balls rapidly changed from fire to ice and began to contract. It is odd how two opposite extremes can produce the same sensational results. I couldn't put it off any longer. I reached down for my cock and started stroking. He grabbed my hand and pulled it away.

"No you don't. Wait for it. Trust me."

I sighed in frustration, but it was only fair.

Again I felt a hot spot on the back of my balls slowly rise up the sac to its base. But it continued on up past my perineum until it reached my puckered asshole. The hot spot spread as he worked my ass with his marvelous mouth, opening up as wide as he could to heat up the largest area. I groaned with approval. His tongue encircled the sensitive outer flesh like a honeybee assessing an aromatic rosebud. The bee's stimulating dance coaxed the rosebud to open, and he spiraled into a dive bomb. The rose unfolded, welcoming the bee's intrusion, eager to be polinated.

He pressed his face hard against my ass as his tongue achieved amazing penetration, probing and prodding my inner rectum. My whole body tingled with this man's presence.

Then his tongue withdrew and was quickly replaced by a wet finger. He pushed it in slowly, twisting it as it entered until it would go no further, then rotated it around, feeling the smooth moist membranes within.

"This was always my favorite part of a physical exam," I sighed, letting him know I was still alive.

"Mine too," he replied, "especially this part."

He pressed down on my prostate gland and started vibrating his finger.

"Jeezus!! Oh man! Oh shit!! Oh fuck!! Fuck!! FUCKING A!!!" He had me writhing in ecstasy. I was his finger puppet and he was pushing all the buttons. "Gawd! Me so horny! May I please jerk off now?"

"Not yet. Soon."

He pulled out his finger, then paused, for a moment to let me come down. I let out a deep relaxing sigh, then a dagger ripped through my spine.

"Holy shit!! What the fuck are you doing..."

He was instantly on top of me, supporting his weight with his left arm on the bed while hugging my waist with his right and corkscrewing my ass with his dick. I tried to maneuver, but in my current position and with his weight on top of me, I could not get any leverage.

"Don't fight it. Go with it."

He had orchestrated the perfect ambush, taking me completely by surprise. It seemed obvious now that his foreplay was designed to lubricate my ass and loosen me up, but I never saw it coming. His sexual repertoire was indeed diverse, ranging from a tender embrace to bestial rape. Perhaps, I was the one who was really out of his league.

Fear and surprise gave way to animal lust, and I decided to take his advice. I relaxed my butt muscles and started thrusting in sync with him but in the opposite direction, pushing back as he entered me and pulling forward as he withdrew, providing maximum penetration with both parties sharing the effort.

"That's right, lover," he said, "dance with me. Do that funky chicken."

Now that I was cooperating, he relaxed his grip around my waist, and moved his hand down to grasp my cock. He held his hand as steady as he could, under the circumstances. Do that funky chicken. I fucked his hand as he fucked my ass. Our balls collided with our bodies, clapping out the tempo. His breath was hot on my neck, and his sweat mingled with mine. He managed to move from his knees to his feet without breaking stride, then slowly raised up a bit to change the angle of entry. The reason quickly became obvious: this new angle targeted my prostate. He battered it with his rod, causing my ass muscles to constrict involuntarily with each thrust, a benefit we both thoroughly enjoyed.

I felt a sharp pain on my shoulder. My eyes shot open to see what was happening. The mirror reflected two German Shepherds frantically humping on the bed. I blinked and the image dissolved into two men, the one on top biting the one underneath. I let out a gutteral growl, and increased the pacing to a feverous pitch. The air was thick with our musk as steam rose from our bodies. The place took on the masculine aroma of a superbowl locker room.

The mirror started to fog up. It beheld a hazy image of a massive blurry fleshy engine-machine grunting and sweating and pistoning in and out of itself. It generated no electricity, carried no payload, manufactured no widgets. It had no purpose whatsoever other than itself, but that purpose had an intensity all its own, and nothing could stop it. The two halves of the machine pounded together faster and harder, desperately trying to reach the ultimate goal before running out of fuel.

At last I felt the end coming. That unmistakable feeling that starts out as a small dust devil, deep inside one's groin and builds upward and outward. I fucked his hand hard and clamped down on his intruding prick to let him know the time was near. His response was affirmative as he, too, increased his efforts. Our balls ceased their repetitive colliding as they both recoiled into their respective body cavities in preparation for the impending orgasm. My throbbing prostate began to flow, priming the pump. A tornado whipped through my trunk. Our thighs crashed together. The hurricane flew into my brain, and I howled my pleasure as my cock gushed forth a viscous string of pearls, impregnated the pillow beneath me. My asshole spasmed with each burst, and my mate howled his ecstasy as well, pumping his seed deep into my bowels. My ravenous asshole milked his cock as he fed it his cum, sucking and slurping with an endless hunger, until finally, both were, at long last, completely satisfied.

The fucking machine came to a stop and collapsed onto itself, the heap slowly rising and falling as it caught its breath, its fuel completely spent, but its purpose quite adequately met.

"Will you marry me?" I asked in a euphoric daze with my face pressed into the bed.

"I'm already married, but I might consider having a mistress."

He pulled out of me and rolled off onto his side. I turned over and embraced him. We kissed with what little energy we had left. I pondered his proposal.

"I don't know, I always thought of myself as a top, but now I may reconsider it. Tell me, are you as hot with your wife as you were with me just now? Where did you learn to fuck like that?"

He smiled in modesty. "Well, Mark, you're just such a good teacher, and I'm a good student. I just took my cues from you and improvised a little."

I sat up and glared at him. "What did you say?"

"I said you were a good teacher and I was..."

"You called me 'Mark'!"

His face had a glimmer of panic. "Did I? Sorry. Just a slip of the tongue, Harry."

It was all coming together now. "You filthy son of a bitch. Your tongue is far too talented to make a slip like that!"

"What is the problem? You just remind me of this other guy I know, that's all."

He looked at me with wide eyes and eyebrows turned up shaking his head, but he didn't fool me. That was a very familiar face he was wearing. I should know, having seen it a dozen times in the mirror. It is the face one dons when one is caught inextricably in a lie.

"This whole thing has been a put-on, hasn't it! You're not married. You're a professional queer, aren't you Joe, if that really is your name."

He wiped off the face and replaced it with a smirk.

"I guess the charade is over."

I was beet-red with anger. He made a fool of me. I really hated that.

"You fucked me in the ass without a condom, you bastard!"

"Relax, I'm clean. I only prey off of virgins, just like you. Besides, if I had stopped to put on a condom, I would have lost that golden opportunity to watch you squirm like a skewered pig. Shit, that was priceless!"


I dove onto him with both arms swinging. We tussled around on the bed, but we were both thoroughly exhausted, and neither did much damage to the other. With our limbs locked together like a Chinese wood block puzzle, we rolled about and inevitably off of the bed, landing with a crunch onto the cold hard floor. The initial shock knocked the wind out of us, but as we recovered, he started up with his infectious snickering, and it wasn't long before we were both doubled over, belly laughing to tears.

He regained control first and got to his feet, groaning a few new bruises, then reached out a hand to me. I looked up at him and wiped my face. I had been had, but I deserved it. I considered my options.

"Is that mistress offer still open?"

"Uh...yeah, I guess so. But only on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays."

"Oh really, and what about the rest of the week." I grabbed his hand, and he pulled me to my feet.

"On those days, I get to be the mistress."


We sealed it with a mutually passionate kiss, which was cut short by a loud crashing of glass. The mirror had slipped off its nail and shattered to the ground.

I shrugged and grabbed his ass. "Don't need it anymore. I got my mirror right here."

We were each a perfect reflection of the other: identical and opposite at the same time. We both knew that a relationship would be risky because of its narcissistic nature. People who marry their reflections tend to dislike what they see in their mate. To make this relationship work, there would have to be a lot more honesty than we had shown each other up to this point, but, what the hell, it was worth a try. And besides, we both enjoyed a challenge.

Monogamy had its advantages: it was okay to be unselfish with one's bodily fluids, and we were both imaginative enough to maintain spontaneity in the bedroom, the elevator, the taxi cab, McDonald's. And when we had an urge for nostalgia, we would go to the bars together and watch the wolves and the sheep, taking nothing more than a voyeuristic interest. Still, whenever I saw a wolf make his move on a defenseless little lamb, I always wondered if he really knew what he was getting himself into. And when they left the bar together and the wolf patted the lamb on the butt, what was under that sheep's clothing? Wool? Bristles? A spring steel trap? Sometimes the mystery was never solved. Other times the outcome was as plain as day when the wolf showed up later with his arm chewed off at the shoulder. Some learn it the hard way, others don't learn anything at all, and never have a clue who is the hunter, who is the huntee, and who is the mark.

THE MARK is Copyright © 1990 by its anonymous author. It was posted to the Usenet news group as message-ID <>. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction; any resemblance to persons living or dead or events past or future is purely coincidental.