I’ve read many confessions on here, but I want to confess the first time I went cruising for cocks to blow. If I get enough “that’s juicy” or some request for more confessions, I will post them. First, by way of introduction, I have always identified as a straight male, though some of my first sexual encounters were with other guys during puberty. I’d never thought about “going bi” or anything, but suddenly two years ago that all changed.

Unable to sleep one night I went running in the hope that the restlessness I felt would be appeased. I jogged down through the suburbs to the vague spaces of the local Park. This was a large, spacious green area with regal giants spreading their arms in gnarled, catastrophic gestures of protection. The dark hid beneath their whispering boughs where bushes piled upon one another over twice a man’s height. Through these bushes the lust of men had carved a labyrinth of hollow wombs where the desperate seeds of omnipresent desire could give birth to unspeakable pleasure. Unthinkingly, my feet had carried me into this darkness just as my body needed a walking break.

I dropped into a loping walk on pitch-dark asphalt and became immediately aware of another on the same path, a thin man with a shaved face and a small pack slung over his back. We greeted each other cursorily, I unable to think of what to say to one who was out so late with no good reason. He nevertheless suspected, and a part of him knew what was coming.
“What brings you out at a run so late?” The other said.
“I get … restless,” I said. “What brings you out?”
“To fuck and get fucked,” the other said. I balked at his bluntness but a part of me gloried in the admission, his straightforward, nonchalant hunger, so I fell in beside him. We walked together into the gloom of the midnight forest.

We circled further than I expected, down and in, and finally the other man stopped in a broad, enclosed glade where nothing was distinct but all was visible. Now that I was here, I could not tolerate the tension that the other was generating. I moved in close and began tearing at his belt and trousers. It was a strange reflection, this hungering after another man’s cock. I’d spent my life dreaming, hunting, delving women’s c**ts, glorying in their breasts and savouring the gorgeous curves of their bodies. This was in no way diminished, but now at this moment, to pleasure this other man’s cock was to pleasure my own. To feel the alienness of that other erection was a heightened version of feeling mine. To imagine the sensation of this strange man’s hot ejaculate in my throat was to feel his own slide down the throat of the most ideal woman imaginable.

Finally, after an interminable age of pulling, unbuckling, and opening, the member fell free. I dropped to my knees, smelling the musk in the man’s hair blossoming where the flesh curved from root to hips and took hold of the thickening organ inches from my face. I had spent years masturbating, gripping my own erections with enough pressure to prevent the chafing that comes with dry slipping but with just enough to cause the skin to move gently over the rigidity beneath, bringing the most pleasure. The ease of stroking this man’s swelling genital was surprising. It felt as familiar in my hand as my own cock yet was utterly foreign. It waxed turgid under my grip, the head lifting bulbous and taught, and the sensation filled me with the desire for more, the desire to consume and swallow this experience. I poured my mouth over and around the strange man’s erection.

No pleasure or sensation could compare or match that moment when I let the soft, swollen head of another man’s cock glide up and back against my palate. Hard within but almost silkily soft without, it’s naked head pressed with the urgency of desire again and again long the roof of my mouth.

Just thinking about it now makes my jaw and throat ache for another

I opened as wide as I could, puling my lips hard around the man’s shaft, feeling the surge of need under the turgid skin made slick with my saliva.

I became aware suddenly of an inversion. My whole life I’d thought of a blow job as a gesture of submission, a man injecting his cock in another’s throat. Now I realized a blow job as something given, something enacted upon another. I had gone down on many women and enjoyed every one. At those times I was acting on them, giving them pleasure, controlling their ecstasy. The only difference now was by degree and not by category. To have another’s cock in my mouth was a revelation of control even as I was giving myself over to the pleasure, for it was all mine to give. I realized that I wanted to give it all. I wanted the other to take it as much as it could be taken. Suddenly I felt the need for this man to grab my head and thrust his cock as deeply into my throat as possible. I was consuming this man, devouring all he was and could be.
Then the man spoke. “We’re not alone.”

I opened my eyes, realizing for the first time that I’d closed them. I pulled my lips off the man’s cock but continued frigging it slowly. Another man was silhouetted against the opening to the clearing, and then another. I heard the steps of a third and fourth to my right. I turned to find them already undoing their trousers. There was the soft shuffle as they approached, and the man who had led me there stepped back to allow one of the newcomers his place. Without any hesitation, I took both cocks presented to me in my hands and set my mouth to the first.

Someone was pulling at my own shorts, digging for my own, half-hard cock. I had almost totally forgotten about my own member, and as I felt the air against it, the unknown hands massaging it, I realized that my own orgasm was not what I had come for. Reflecting after, it became clear that taking pleasure was giving up something to someone else, releasing a kind of control to them, and this was not the control I wished to abdicate that night. Still, I did not pull or push away. If someone were to commit to me as fully as I was willing to commit, then who could know what would come? As it was, I wished only to concentrate on this strange new experience.

Cock after cock entered my mouth — it must have been six in the end — as I salivated and sucked, pulled and bobbed. At one point I turned around to find the man I’d entered with being fucked from behind by another. The man looked down at him and asked “better now?”

I just went back to sucking, but I never came to completion.
Suddenly I had a flash of objectivity. I stood, re-buckled my trousers and with a parting “have fun, guys,” I jogged out of the woods to wonder why I had plunged head first into this situation.

It was not my only time in there, though. I was back for more within a fortnight, and this time I would swallow my first load.

… but that is a story for another time.