An Old Floridian Daddy Brutally Throat F*cked Me While Watching Tucker Carlson
I couldn’t breathe while he was holding my head down. And all I thought was, “Am I seriously going to die listening to Carlson lambast ‘woke culture?’”
As the Republican primaries have officially begun, I thought I’d share this story from last December. Initially, I thought I’d take this one to the grave, but it’s just so absurd that I have to share.
Because I am a normal human being, I do not ask someone about their political affiliation prior to a random hookup. Do I ask, “Top or bottom?” and “When’s the last time you were tested?” Absolutely. Do I ask, “Did you vote for Elizabeth Warren in the 2020 primaries?” No, though if they did, I’d add a little extra razzle dazzle to my sloppy head game.
So I’ve probably fucked and sucked hundreds of Republicans and conservatives. I don’t think about this much because there’s nothing I can do with this information. However, there is one hookup I had in Wilton Manors, a gay hub in South Florida, that I think about every time I see Tucker Carlson on the news.
I was there visiting a friend and was frankly a horny mess. (What else is new?) This is a slutty friend of mine, and we’d had sex before, but he didn’t seem to want to fuck me while I was with him, even though we spent every night in bed cuddling. I asked him what he was thinking.
“Oh, I am definitely not fucking you in my bed,” he said. “You kidding me? You’ll cuddle me and call me baby, and then I’ll fall in love and act crazy when I see you flirting with another guy. Absolutely not!”
I erupted in laughter. “But babbbbyyyyyyy,” I said manipulatively, “You’re the only man for me. I’d never leave you for another man. You’re my sexy babe, baby.”
“You joke,” he said, laughing, “but I’m onto you!” I gave him a big kiss as we both continued smiling.
Now I bring this up because I was ravenously horny. We would spend every night cuddling, naked. My hard dick squished in between his juicy ass cheeks. So I went to bed erect. I woke up erect. I was dying.
“Okay, I need to suck some dick and bust a nut,” I told him on our third day together. “You do you, boo!” he replied. “I’ll take a client while you’re out, so no rush.”
A man with a blank profile and the handle “DomFLDaddy” sent me a photo of his thick hog nuzzled in a hairy bush. It was in that in-between state between flaccid and hard, and I wanted to see how he’d look fully erect.
Before I could respond, he sent me a photo of his hard cock covering the face of a man lying on his back. His dick reached down to this twink’s clavicles. The following photo showed his dick in this man’s mouth, and you could see a throat bulge.
“You like pounding throat?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he replied.
“Hold my head down, make me gag, choke, and don’t let me up for air?”
“Yeah.”
He was a man of few words, but one thing I’ve learned from my many years (and men) on the apps: Guys doth protest too much. They get off on the idea of the fantasy. They love telling me all the rough and nasty things they’d like to do to my body, but when I’m in front of them, naked and at their disposal, they’re surprisingly timid and vanilla.
Often, those who say less are the ones who do more.
“Go harder on this throat than you ever have,” I said, my hormone monsterstress having taken the wheel. (Mona, not Connie, in case you’re wondering.)
“Yeah,” he replied. (Really saying the least here.)
After a short walk, I arrived at his place. Ernesto opened the door in a red silk robe and slippers. His tanned skin was leathered from the Floridian sun, with heavy crow's feet around his eyes and corners of his mouth. His tummy jutted past his toes, and atop his unruly tuft of chest hair lay a gold Jesus on the cross.
“Come in,” he said—his voice deep and husky. “Do you want a drink? A shot?” he asked. I shook my head. “Are you sure?”
“I’m fine,” I replied. (Pro tip: When you go to a man’s place for rough or kinky sex, and he offers you a shot upon entry, you are about to get absolutely wrecked. The drink isn’t just a kind gesture from a host; it’s a warning.)
I looked around his home. A dozen candles, all with Byzantine images of Mary, were scattered throughout his apartment. Multiple bloodied Jesuses hung on multiple wooden crosses. Per usual, the Son of God’s cum gutters were popping.
Ernesto led me to his bedroom and quickly turned down the volume on his TV. He was watching what appeared to be local news.
He dropped his robe, revealing his uncut meatstick hanging past his heavy balls. I fell to the hardwood floor and put his semi-hard dick in my mouth. I swirled my tongue around his head before sticking it out and licking his shaft. I took him inch by inch, feeling him grow wider and longer inside my throat until he reached his final form.
He didn’t moan or say a word even though I was doing an impressive job of swallowing him. I stopped sucking to look up at him. He wasn’t looking at me. His eyes were fixated on the barely audible news. Without looking down at me, he grabbed the back of my head and thrusted me down to the base of his dick. I was not expecting that and let out a loud gag.
“Shh…” he said as he began thrusting. I tried my best to silence my gags but couldn’t. While continuously pounding my throat, he turned up the volume of the TV slightly. He held my head down at the base, and I touched my throat, feeling his cock firmly lodged inside. He smacked the back of my head, and I gagged, my entire body convulsing. I needed air.
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