One time I went home with a guy who I had met in the video arcade in Minneapolis on Christmas Eve. Unlike most encounters in these kinds of places, he wanted me to come home with him, where I promised that I'd suck him for an hour. ( He seemed really uncomfortable and paranoid in the arcade.) We were both in our twenties, although he was straight-identified and was a few years older than me. He lived with two other guys and he didn't want them to know he had brought home a fag, so we had to be discreet.
We sneaked in through the kitchen directly to his bedroom, and so avoided the guys watching TV in the living room. He sat down in a big overstuffed chair in his room while I knelt before him and took off his pants for him. He looked like a king in command--the chair his throne. He told me to go for it. I told him that I wasn't a man at all compared to him and this got him going into a whole dominance thing. He started whispering to me how queer I was for doing all this shit for another guy. He told me lots of humiliating shit, like that fags are good for just one thing--and I was doing it now. I was feeling up his hairy chest and sniffing out his sweaty nuts for him. I licked out his armpits. I kissed his feet. I did everything I could to make him feel like The Man.
After about fifteen minutes of this submissive foreplay, I blew him for over an hour. He was slow, like he was savoring every minute of it. He just sat back and I sucked it for him good. Eventually, he came in my mouth. He had a really big load and I didn't want to swallow it, so I reached over and got the trash basket and spit his slimy jizz out in it. Seeing me spit out his sperm like that made him gag and he dashed for the bathroom, where I could hear him vomiting. This was, strangely, a masochistic turn-on for me--that in a way he was so repulsed by the scene that he actually vomited. The humiliating fact that he puked made me jerk myself wildly and when I heard him flush the toilet, I shot my load big time, but concealed it from him because I knew it would disgust him.
By this time, his roommates had all left for their Christmas with their families. Afterwards, when we were getting dressed I asked him if he would piss all over me and he snarled that I was a "sick motherfuck," and that just thinking about it made him sick. Then without much talk, we got in his car and he dropped me off at the nearest bus stop. It took me more than an hour to get home, where I jerked myself wildly reenacting the scene in my head more than once--maybe three or even four times.
Not surprisingly, the number he wrote down and gave me was a non-working number. I saw him one other time in the movie arcade, but he pretended not to recognize me.