I heard my bedroom door open with a slight creak. I rotated my head on the pillow, recognizing the familiar silhouette of my stepdad. I heard him whisper, “You awake?”

Without waiting for an answer, he entered and quietly clicked the door shut, the room now in near-total darkness. As he had done at least a dozen times before, he tiptoed across the carpet, seemingly with the night vision of an alley cat.

I felt the edge of the mattress depress as he placed his left knee upon it. I knew he had already pulled his cock from his boxers and that it would be fully erect. I additionally knew that he was leaning forward, positioning his cock near my face, supporting himself with both hands on the headboard.

I inched forward slightly until the precum wetness of his cockhead just touched my lips. I lapped the drops onto the very tip of my tongue, savoring the sweetness of what I knew would be glistening syrup in daylight.

I spread my lips, inviting him to just penetrate his favorite stepson’s pussy-warm and wet mouth.

He pushed no farther. I did not fist his meat or even grasp his large, pendulous balls. Instead, I just slowly ran my tongue along the ultra-sensitive ridge below his glans. I pursed my moistened lips and made, at most, quarter-inch jacking movements just below his cockhead flare.

He whispered again, “Yes, that’s it. Don't stop. I’m gonna cum.”

He held his breath, pulled his cock partially out of my mouth, then exploded with a torrent of salty jizz. I swallowed every drop.

I’m not sure how he could control his ejaculations, but he never hammered his prick into my mouth while cumming and he never grunted like a constipated pirate. Instead, it was near silence, followed by a whispered, “Thanks, son,” and then he was out the door.

After the first time or two, I wondered whether he was as gentle when he banged my mom. I guessed not. I was a virgin when it came to fucking; but like most horny guys, I had seen my share of hetero porn. Getting beyond the massive size of the stars’ cocks, the humping and ass-slapping always bordered on violent.

I really liked my stepdad’s approach to blow jobs: gentle and appreciative. I never told him, but he was far from the first guy I had ever sucked. In fact, I had probably serviced twenty-five or maybe even thirty horny dudes before him.

They fell into one big group: middle-aged married guys.

I discovered quickly that there were two subgroups. For some married guys, getting sucked by a random young college student was just a matter of any port in a storm. They weren't gay or even bi. They just weren't getting enough at home. My mouth was the same as a knot in a pine-board fence. Stick it in and shoot a load. They’d universally utter a “Thanks,” zip up and head home to dinner with the wife.

The other subgroup I think of as simply conflicted. These guys seemed to be all about power and a need to shame. It was always, “What are you waiting for? Get down on your knees and suck that cock.” These guys were into hard face-fucking and humiliation. My impression was that these married guys were closeted gays and unable to admit it (and openly enjoy themselves with the rest of us).

In retrospect, I’ve been pretty lucky. My first homosexual experience was with a married guy who was of the first subgroup and actually not unlike my stepdad. Don't laugh; but if I had run into a “Suck my dick, bitch” type, I might be celibate or perhaps even dating Connie Coed.

So, how did it all start?

I didn't plan on sucking my first cock the second morning of spring break. I rolled out of bed at a leisurely 10am, brushed my teeth and headed down for breakfast. The kitchen was empty. A Post-It was stuck on the coffee maker: “We’re heading into town. Muffins in the pantry. Back by 4.”

I grabbed a blueberry muffin and a Monster from the fridge. What to do?

I decided to hit my favorite fishing hole for a couple of hours, maybe even take a dip.

I pulled my junker Sentra into the shady lane leading down to the turnaround by the river. I was relieved to see only a single soccer mom minivan backed into one of the half-dozen parking spots. There was a good chance my favorite bluegill spot would be available.

I grabbed my Monster, a spinning rod and my day pack. I took a quick peek at the minivan as I headed into the woods. The driver nodded as he brought a Starbucks cup to his lips.

I had been fishing for perhaps only twenty minutes or so and already had four fat panfish. I decided to take a break, stripping off my Maroon Five tee and settling down onto the solitary stump that was conveniently near to the river’s edge.

I heard a rustling in the brush behind me. “Shit, bear,” I thought. Instead, out stepped the minivan driver, Starbucks cup still in his left hand.

“Catching any?” he queried in a pleasant voice. He walked to the bank’s edge, perhaps two feet from my stump. “Nice day. Mind if I watch? Frank’s my name.”

“Suit yourself,” I replied, not really caring one way or the other.

Frank put the cup down, then stood facing the weather, both hands in his khakis. After a couple of minutes, it became clear that he was playing pocket pool.

I looked up at him and just laughed.

“Yeah, there’s something about being out in Mother Nature that brings out the nudist in me.”

And without further ado, he unzipped and extricated a semi-erect slab of manhood that would make a porn star proud. It was at least seven inches long, still partially flaccid and an inch and a half wide at its base. The precum-dripping head was smallish, but pink and perfectly shaped. I looked him up and down. Could this beautiful cock really belong to a guy who looked like a seventh-grade science teacher?

“Shit,” was all I could say.

“Yep. Do you want to hold him?”

I don't know to this day what came over me (no pun intended); but I reached out and cupped his prick like my hand was the split-top bun cradling a juicy bratwurst.

He placed his right hand gently on my left shoulder and pivoted so that his dick was only inches from my face. He didn't pull my head forward or hump his pelvis toward me. In fact, he didn't even utter a word.

Without a thought, I leaned forward and kissed his cockhead slit, painting my lips with precum. I licked my lips, sampling the first precum of another man. I closed my eyes momentarily. I was hooked.

I couldn't get enough of Frank’s cock.

I licked and kissed down its shaft and then back up to the head. I knew what I wanted and I sensed what Frank needed. I opened my mouth, pulled my damp lips over my incisors and sucked the glans into my mouth. I ran my tongue around the circumference of his cockhead, then back and forth between the frenulum and his pee-slit. I loved the fact that I could milk precum onto my tongue.

I knew Frank needed more, as he placed increasing pressure on my shoulder. With my left thumb and index finger I circled tightly the base of his rod and ballsack. With the right hand, I began jerking him off with both up and down jacking and rotational movements.

Frank began subtle pistoning of his now fully erect nine inches into and out of my mouth. I knew I was bringing him close, as he began almost moaning, “Oh, shit. Oh, shit. That feels so good. I’m gonna cum soon. Can I cum in your mouth?”

Well, that wasn't something I had given any thought to! I guess “in for a penny, in for a pound.” I just nodded. Non-verbal communication would have to suffice, given that my mouth was stuffed with cock.

And then Frank stopped pistoning his meat. He held his breath other than the making of barely audible and small guttural sounds. I knew he was oh, so close.

I gave one last pump up and down the shaft of his weapon. It was the final stimulus Frank needed. He shot a huge load into the back of my mouth, almost gagging me. I was able to maintain my composure and actually enjoy swallowing the next three blasts of man-seed that Frank delivered.

He added his left hand to my right shoulder, slumping forward. He tried to extract his rapidly softening cock from my mouth, but I formed two “O’s” with my thumb and index fingers on his shaft as he pulled his pelvis away from my face. These served to milk the last few drops of his seed into my mouth.

“Stop, stop, stop. It's too sensitive,” he begged.

I released his cock and watched it flop down onto his khakis. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

My next thought? When can I suck you again, Frank?