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Gay Stories
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Gay Male / 29
Greg Insists On A Certain Type
Let's start with the set up. We were going to the same college, he was a year older and working on a Biology degree. I was working on a Business degree. He invites me over to eat some frog legs. The other guy he had invited couldn't make it, and he didn't want them to go to waste. So there wasn't a goal, so to speak, on his part.
He fried them up in a pan, that along with some french fries he fixed from scratch. We had a beer, or more than one beer, and the frog legs were really good. It was my first time, with frog legs. Greg was wearing a pair of running shorts, he was quite athletic. His long legs, all covered in hair, went all the way up from the floor to the crack in his ass, which was visible under his shorts as he stood up. That and his jock strap and surrounding his balls and cock.
He offered me a beer and walked over, bent over to collect the empty, his cock was less than a millimeter away. What was I supposed to do? That's the question I've asked myself many times. I reached up with my mouth and 'bit' his jock strap under his shorts. I caught Greg by surprise. Right then what "I" wanted to do, was to push him down and bite at his jock strap until he had not choice but to let his cock out. But Greg didn't react that way, he looked at me for a second and told me I wasn't his type.
OH GOD, then just to tease me he slipped out of his jock strap, his swinging dick and balls, hanging out under his running shorts. I wanted, I wanted to suck his cock right then, but he was across the room speaking nonsense I wasn't paying attention to. My cock wasn't behaving himself, he was trapped in my jeans and wanted out. I stood, and undid my pants and lowered them and let my cock swing out. I was hard, not half hard, hard. Looking for attention.
Greg came over, he grabbed my cock in his hand, and told me I wasn't his type. I tried reaching for Greg's cock, but he took a half step back. "On your knees" I heard him say, but he denies it. I got on my knees, opened my mouth, come on, give me your cock. But he said again 'your not my type'. I was frustrated by then, what was his type? I was there, willing, obviously I thought he was my type. Long legs, hairy legs, big cock and balls, the type you bend over for.
He left me wanting, and went back to the other side of the room looking for an LP to play. He selected some Jazz, the woeful type. He stood back looking at me, his cock coming to attention. I did my best to get my pants completely off, with only my briefs, my cock hung out through the fly. I crawled over to him, with the look begging for the opportunity to suck his cock. He whipped my face with his cock, put it under my nose, but not in my mouth. He pushed his shorts down, and bent over and told me to 'kiss his ass'.
I licked him, as much as he wanted, he made all sorts of noises, called me names like 'ass licker' and 'ass kisser' and I agreed every time. I reached around to grab his cock, he smacked my hand away and told me it wasn't for me. He pulled me up and looked in my eyes and told me 'you are not my type'. I groveled, got my briefs off, pulled his shorts and down, his hairy ass, his long legs, his big cock. I groveled. What more did he want.
He put me over the table we had just eaten the frog legs, whipped my ass with his cock. He got some cooking oil out of the kitchen cabinet, and spread it over my ass. I waited for the moment, the glorious moment I had been waiting for all night. His cock was hard, his cock was a bit to large, his cock worked it's way in not caring about my feelings or thoughts. Greg was intent on one thing. He was going to fuck me, when he felt like it.
I shouldn't admit it, or confess it, but I found out that night that i am a pleaser, a cock sucker, a bottom, an ass kisser, a submissive. Who gives a shit, at least now I can suck his cock when I come over, I can bend over for a fuck. I clean up the kitchen, and I change the bed, he wants clean sheets so I do it. I'm learning to be his type. Keep my trap shut and do what he tells me. I can do that.
He fried them up in a pan, that along with some french fries he fixed from scratch. We had a beer, or more than one beer, and the frog legs were really good. It was my first time, with frog legs. Greg was wearing a pair of running shorts, he was quite athletic. His long legs, all covered in hair, went all the way up from the floor to the crack in his ass, which was visible under his shorts as he stood up. That and his jock strap and surrounding his balls and cock.
He offered me a beer and walked over, bent over to collect the empty, his cock was less than a millimeter away. What was I supposed to do? That's the question I've asked myself many times. I reached up with my mouth and 'bit' his jock strap under his shorts. I caught Greg by surprise. Right then what "I" wanted to do, was to push him down and bite at his jock strap until he had not choice but to let his cock out. But Greg didn't react that way, he looked at me for a second and told me I wasn't his type.
OH GOD, then just to tease me he slipped out of his jock strap, his swinging dick and balls, hanging out under his running shorts. I wanted, I wanted to suck his cock right then, but he was across the room speaking nonsense I wasn't paying attention to. My cock wasn't behaving himself, he was trapped in my jeans and wanted out. I stood, and undid my pants and lowered them and let my cock swing out. I was hard, not half hard, hard. Looking for attention.
Greg came over, he grabbed my cock in his hand, and told me I wasn't his type. I tried reaching for Greg's cock, but he took a half step back. "On your knees" I heard him say, but he denies it. I got on my knees, opened my mouth, come on, give me your cock. But he said again 'your not my type'. I was frustrated by then, what was his type? I was there, willing, obviously I thought he was my type. Long legs, hairy legs, big cock and balls, the type you bend over for.
He left me wanting, and went back to the other side of the room looking for an LP to play. He selected some Jazz, the woeful type. He stood back looking at me, his cock coming to attention. I did my best to get my pants completely off, with only my briefs, my cock hung out through the fly. I crawled over to him, with the look begging for the opportunity to suck his cock. He whipped my face with his cock, put it under my nose, but not in my mouth. He pushed his shorts down, and bent over and told me to 'kiss his ass'.
I licked him, as much as he wanted, he made all sorts of noises, called me names like 'ass licker' and 'ass kisser' and I agreed every time. I reached around to grab his cock, he smacked my hand away and told me it wasn't for me. He pulled me up and looked in my eyes and told me 'you are not my type'. I groveled, got my briefs off, pulled his shorts and down, his hairy ass, his long legs, his big cock. I groveled. What more did he want.
He put me over the table we had just eaten the frog legs, whipped my ass with his cock. He got some cooking oil out of the kitchen cabinet, and spread it over my ass. I waited for the moment, the glorious moment I had been waiting for all night. His cock was hard, his cock was a bit to large, his cock worked it's way in not caring about my feelings or thoughts. Greg was intent on one thing. He was going to fuck me, when he felt like it.
I shouldn't admit it, or confess it, but I found out that night that i am a pleaser, a cock sucker, a bottom, an ass kisser, a submissive. Who gives a shit, at least now I can suck his cock when I come over, I can bend over for a fuck. I clean up the kitchen, and I change the bed, he wants clean sheets so I do it. I'm learning to be his type. Keep my trap shut and do what he tells me. I can do that.
