Occasionally he'd opt to finish jerking himself off; but with a more force and speed.

It was like we had formed a process that worked satisfied us both - for years. Sucking until shot his load seemed natural to me. He never asked to take it in my mouth.

Sharing a preference of taking turns: starting with blow jobs to a point and finishing wih hand jobs. Mutually satisfied we carried on - without ever actually discussing it.

This were taking loads in each other mouths - finishing each with one dashing for the sink to spit while the other in enjoyed his 'afterglow'.

A warm gush, the intensity of his satisfaction - we could always make each other feel so good. Why couldn't I just spit in a paper cup and relax? We kept the same routine for years

Growing up, no one ever old me that cum was nasty, never to swallow it, etc. We were two men that enjoy each other, I didn't see any harm in it. And yet, saying "I'm gonna swallow the next time I suck you off.", had more Taboo to it than the act itself.

Still obligatory rush to the sink, rinse, gargle? But if I swallow it or take too long to spit it out, more concerned with being thought of as gross. It took time to get past my own bullshit; giving myself grief over something. Never thought of myself as some kind of SuperCreep. Wanted to just go ahead and swallow - but thought I would be thought of as gross. I started to think more about what I wanted.

Grief proof solution was to act and accept what meets my approval, I made damn sure that this BlowJob would be worthy of my Swallowing Debut.

On the floor in front of the couch, slipped between his knees, got his boxers off, his balls in a milking grasp of one hand, my right hand on the base of his beautiful meat, and went down with the purpose of working him into a cum blasting fit. He moved the edge of the couch and started humping my face, still holding the base of his cock, I kept up with a jackandsuck rhythm along with his fucking my mouth. His balls drew up tight, and I new that he was going to cum soon. He started the stand - which usually lead to him jerking off to finish. It felt like he had about to come again. He spang from the couch, clenching the sides of my head, he let out deep groan as he shoved his cum blasting cock deep in my throat. He shuttered, convulsed and let out gasps as he continued to pump my mouth with his superhero trophy of a cock.

Sinking into the couch, head back, catching his breath. He "aftershocked" his last gush of cum which expanded as it mixed in my drool. A sense of self-comfort pulsed from my chest and radiated throughout my body. Turned my head to swallow. Then back to two arms, a sweet smile and a sweaty beginning of our first mutual 'Afterglow'.

I floated around the next day happy and couldn't help but think his face fuck was he acted on - I loved it. Later that day, I went outside to sit on the rock which was hot from the sun, spread out faceup like a overfed houscat. The wind across my back carried a familiar scent - one similar to comfort you feel wearing coat or how sleeping with their pillow gives welcome dear substitute. Sweat from my brow tricked into the corner of mouth, its taste was familiar as the scent around me.

His scent.