Southern Republican Mess

I need to join forces with a therapist. I suppose I am a sort of therapist, providing a sort of therapy but when the client is flipping from lustful fantasy to disgusted self-contempt I'm not totally at ease with the situation. The rentboy scene - in my experience of it - is far less conducive to lies and distortions than I would have imagined. In general, more than in the dating scene, clients present themselves accurately. Why wouldn't they? They're paying for a service not seducing a stranger. Most don't seek anything unusual and the ones that do tend to be diplomatic about it.

This guy emailed me from his person email, which happened to be a gmail account, as a result of this I got to see his photos from google plus, I don't use google plus, by my email is a gmail and I half filled out a profile at some point, in brief, he unwitting sent me his face picture, his position and some personal infromation which he has published on google plus. I'm sure he doesn't realize this. Based on his Romney Ryan lawn flag, I'm sure he's a log cabin republican. Cute but tragic, four or five whiskies into the evening he emails me, looking for an anonymous scene, dark room, playing porn, no talking, just porn playing in the dark and my mouth on his cock. He said he'd "never done this before" which I assumed to mean a rentboy but may well have been a man. First he made a no-show, emailed to apologize, and promised to come later that night. I'd pretty much given up on him after the no show; in my experience one no-show is as good as ten. Then he called me, for reasons unknown to me I answered and thought he sounded sweet. I told him to come back and settled down with a book fully expecting another no-show extravaganza from him. Didn't shower, didn't pretty myself up in any way. Although, I suppose he didn't see that. Ha! When he came through the door, he was visibly drunk, he smelled like bourbon and cigars. He stood in front of the gangbang porn I had playing and unzipped. As disgusting as this sounds, I was totally turned on. I was rock hard before my lips touched his cock. His hands were shaking. I probably would not have agreed to something like this if I didn't already know that he was a harmless, churchgoing family man / CEO in his small rural town. He was a middle-aged dark haired white man with a trimmed beard. Looked the part of a southern republican. It was exciting I have to admit, especially feeling him get hard in my mouth, knowing that he was enjoying it in spite of himself.

He made me work that self-hating republican cock. He didn't want to cum too soon either. Each time he got too close, he pulled out of my mouth and made me lick his balls. He started getting verbal too. Calling me a cocksucking bitch. He didn't ask for permission to do this, but little did he know, the slutboy that I am I was totally into it. I think I got him to the edge of ejaculation four or five times. It wasn't difficult, he chose to lay on the bed and have me kneel to service him. At this point he was getting pretty full on with the verbal. He was referring to me as a whore by now. Dangerous move, on his part, to do that, without permission, you never know whether someone will take something lightly as meaningless sexual posturing and role play and what might really, genuinely offend, anger and upset someone.

He got lucky with me, I'm pan sexual with my fantasies. I like to try it all, I was always asked or expected to be dominant but it always made me want to be submissive, to experience the other side. This in particular, i.e. being called a whore out of left-field with no warning was exciting and serendipitous. I've wanted that to happen for some time. I mean, if you're going to have to ask someone to call you a whore why not just look in the mirror and do it to yourself? I am a whore, and I've been a whore for a while and had never been called one up until that point. It was hot, I think it was hot because I was drawing out the nasty side of his sexuality that he would never explore with his wife. My theory, admittedly based in part on my own experience, is that behind the desire to dominate is a latent desire to be dominated. Calling someone a cocksucking slut and a little bitch is the shaky drunken proof that you're not that yourself. Not yet... So yes, from that perverse angle I was totally into this with him.

Despite his surprising willingness to cross the line, so to speak, he did seem in the heat of the moment concerned and polite about the fact the he was going to cum in my mouth. I'm not sure if that was a learned reflex based on my firm assumption that his wife does not swallow or if he was genuinely concerned about the possibility of my now wanting that. I did want it though, badly and when the warnings did not stop me sucking he shot an obscenely large load of cum in my mouth. He was a spurter alright. After the first two shots, he pushed my head down on his cock and told me to keep sucking. It was creamy and a little sweet, the taste of an orgasm. He laid there in a state of pure relaxation as his cock slowly softened and I jacked myself off. That didn't take long, I shot one of the heaviest loads I've ever shot in my adult life. Huge streaks of it under the bed, silent wads of cum, shooting underneath him. I'm glad he couldn't see, I would have been embarrassed at such definitive proof of my enjoyment. It was intense, I was soft for hours afterwards, it was that satisfying, normally I stay hard. I'm famous for always staying hard.

In a way he was right, it was easier that way, to watch an outline put money on the table and mutter "thank you" before exiting discreetly. I emailed him to tell him I enjoyed it, I can tell when someone genuinely mean and he was not. I didn't want him to feel guilty. He wrote back briefly to thank me, says he'll be back in town again soon.