I Dommed, Throated, and F*cked an Older Man, Absolving Him of His Shame

I have entered my sexual healer era.

Original illustration by Roy (@theslagroom)

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He was running two hours late, on “Miami time,” as the locals say. He would say he was en route every thirty minutes, but then an unexpected fire at work would cause him to postpone.

“I promise I’m leaving in 5 minutes,” he messaged repeatedly.

While I was trying to be “chill,” I was over it. I won’t go as far as to say that timeliness is next to godliness, but I do prefer punctual people or people within the socially acceptable 15-minute grace period. Two hours is too much.

It was also my second night at The Gaythering and my last night having a swing in my room. I wanted—needed—to put it to good use. In the two hours I was waiting for him, I could have. Frankly, I could have fucked probably half a dozen men in that time. (I was at a gay sex hotel, after all.) But noooo, I was waiting in bed for this one man, playing chess on my laptop while I half-heartedly stroked my cock.

“Dude, I’ll be honest. I’m getting a little annoyed and starting to be over this.”

“I totally get that, and if you want to cancel, I won’t be upset. But I really do promise I’ll be there in 20 this time. I’m already in my car driving over.”

Urgh, he had gotten in his car. I would feel like a dick to have him turn around. And I know he douched for me, too.

I looked at his photos again. His ass really was goliath—so much meat leading to sturdy thighs. He would look phenomenal face down in my swing.

His face wasn’t half-bad, either. It was long with high cheekbones, baby blues, and a little smirk.

My cock went from half-chub to full hard-on. “Stop fucking with me, and I’ll see you soon,” I responded.

“Yes sir,” he replied. “I hope you’re that aggressive in person. I like it when a man takes control.

Okay, I was to be Dom Daddy (despite his being 15 years older than I). Perfect, I was in that mood anyhow.

Twenty minutes later, he messaged, “Heart racing.” A minute later, I heard a knock at my door. I jumped up from bed and slid into a pair of Adidas track pants—no underwear. Shirtless, chest hair on full display, I opened the door.

“Hey,” he said.

“Come in,” I replied, gesturing with my hand.

“Again, I’m sorry to be this late,” he said.

“It’s fine,” I said.

He walked toward the swing, and when he turned around, I was behind him—our bodies just inches apart.

I pressed my cock, hard through my track pants against his dick in a pair of shorts. I rubbed them together and grabbed his ass. It felt even meatier than the photos, and my dick flexed against his cock.  

I touched his lips and gave him a short yet tender peck. Then I pressed my free hand to his heart. Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump.

“Your heart really is racing,” I said. If I had been faster, I would have called for an ambulance. “Breathe,” I said. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Again,” I commanded. His heart slowed slightly.

He opened his eyes and looked at me with such desire—a longing that had existed in him for years before our meeting.

We stood, staring into each other’s irises. One hand still pressed to his chest, while my other kneaded his ass cheek. I was mesmerized by his gorgeous eyes, a light blue that I only see in babies—never in adult men.

“Take off your shirt and pants and get on your knees,” I commanded.

He stripped down, revealing a black and white jock that could not contain his ass. His cheeks were bursting out.

“Take off my pants,” I continued. He did and out flopped an erect piece. I sat down on the edge of the bed. He arched his back, sticking out his ass. I smacked his left cheek; the impact sounded like a cracking whip. He flinched.

“Now suck,” I said, my voice low and deep. (My voice naturally drops an octave when I'm Dom Daddy.) He opened his mouth wide, making a big “O.” He started by just sucking the head. I wanted to push his head deeper. I wanted him to choke, but the night was young. He stuck out his tongue while he sucked, licking my frenulum and upper shaft.

“Good boy,” I said.

He took my cock out of his mouth.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Daddy,” I replied sternly.

“Sorry, thank you, Daddy,” he corrected.

I placed my hand on the back of his head and gently guided him down further. He made it two-thirds. No, that would not do. I pushed him down further, and he opened for me. At long last, I was fully inside. I wrapped my hand around his throat and felt my cock over his skin.

“That’s how you do it,” I said and smacked his ass. He shook upon impact but managed to keep all of me in his mouth.

I grabbed the sides of his head. “Up and down,” I said, guiding him.

He withdrew up to my head and then swallowed my hole. Then again.  

“Fuckkkk, that feels good,” I said. I nudged him to go faster, and he did. He started to garble now, with my cock inside of him. I ran my head through the back of his hair and grabbed it, then held his head in place as I started thrusting. He began to drool on my cock. It was a wet mess. I closed my eyes and let my head roll back, relishing the feeling of his juices on me.

Oh shit, the swing! The thought came out of the blue, and I’m glad it did. If we had hooked up without using it, I would have thrown myself off the second-story balcony.

I pulled his head up off my cock. I loved the sight of him on his knees. His face, a bright pink. His beard was drenched in saliva, gasping for air.

“Lay face down in the swing.” Head over the side. He lay down on the swing and gripped the two poles in front of him for support. The height was perfect. His open mouth was lined up with my cock. I wouldn’t need to bend my knees or stand on my tippy toes.

It was all throat now, squeezing my shaft. I had been relatively controlled and kind so far. But that was now over. Daddy was going full Dom. I held the back of his head in place and went to town. Hard and fast pumping, causing him to gag repeatedly. He attempted to pull away.

I pulled out half my cock. “Breathe around it,” I commanded. He did, and I continued my merciless pounding.

“Such a good faggot,” I said.

“Mh-hmm,” he replied eagerly.

“What’s your name?” I asked. I took my dick out of his mouth so he could respond.

“Johnathan,” he replied breathlessly.

“John or Johnathan,” I clarified.

“Johnathan,” he replied.

“You’re a good boy, Johnathan,” I said, sticking my dick back in his mouth and returning to oral savagery.

I was getting close to cum, and if I had without fucking his ass, I would have taken the elevator up a floor and thrown myself off the third-story balcony.

“Stay here,” I said as I circled the swing. I spread his cheeks and licked his hole. Of course, he tasted like some red meat aioli you’d get at a French bistro. I prodded my tongue in there. I wanted to taste more of him.

“Your taste is addictive,” I said. I swear I could hear his smile.

When I let go of his ass, and his (booty) cheeks smacked against my (facial) cheeks, I started dripping precum. I kneaded his ass cheeks as I feasted on his hole. More precum oozed out of me.

I needed air. I was smothering myself in his luscious cheeks. I pulled away, grabbed the bottle of lube, and drizzled it onto his hole before massaging it in with my middle finger. I applied more lube on my hand and slid in my ring finger. I pressed down, massaging his prostate.

He let out his loudest moan to date (in part because there were no longer multiple inches lodged in the back of his throat).

“Relax,” I said, and he loosened. “Good boy.”

“Thank you, Daddy.” I crooked my finger forward and started to penetrate him digitally. Faster and faster until he shouted, “Daddy!!! His hole spasmed, rapid contractions of flexing and releasing.

I took my fingers out and told him to lay on the bed. “Turn to your side.” I cuddled him, my cock nuzzled between his ass cheeks like a hot dog in a bun.

I placed my hand over his heart. It was racing even faster than before.

“It’s okay,” I said. “Daddy’s got you.”

His whole body started to shake, and I felt his goosebumps. When I heard him sniffling, I knew he was crying.

“You are loved,” I said in his ear. “I love you. Daddy loves you.” I squeezed him harder.

“I don’t,” he paused. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Zachary,” I replied.

“Thank you, Zachary.” We sat silently for a few more minutes until he started a conversation. We spoke about life. Our careers. Things too personal to share. We talked for a long time, maybe an hour.

When the conversation lulled, I knew it was time.

“Stroke my dick,” I said. Within seconds, I was at full-mast. I needed his ass as much as he needed my dick.

“Lay flat on your stomach.” He turned around I lubed up my cock. I went to put the tip in. “More lube,” he said. I grabbed and generously applied more.

I put my head in, and he flinched. “Breathe,” I said. He breathed, and his hole loosened. I made it halfway before stopping. “Another breath,” I said, and this time, he bloomed. I entered him, and once fully inside, I lay on his back. My chest hair pressed against his muscular rear deltoids. I turned his head to the side and kissed him.

“You feel incredible,” I said. “I’m going to fuck you now. At first, slowly, while we kiss. Then I will pull up and fuck you hard. When I start to cum, I will go back to kissing you.”

“Yes, Daddy,” he said. I pressed my lips against him as I began thrusting. His ass jiggled against my cock with each slow and deep thrust. I grabbed his hips and pushed them back into me as I speared to get as deep in him as possible. Our tongues were now in each other’s mouths, messily sloshing around. I kept my dick fully inside him and flexed. He let out a moan.

I then pulled up and started to hit him with the long, hard thrusts. “That’s my boy,” I said. “Take that dick, you fucking faggot.”

“Yes, Daddy. Anything for you.”

I felt the build inside of me—the fire ignite. I let the pleasure rush through my body, from my head to my toes. I sustained this state—the pre-orgasm euphoric state for as long as I could, but I needed to climax. I expected a massive load, but no, I didn’t ejaculate. I felt the rush, the burst, and the release, but without the actual physical release. Still, my entire body shook as I orgasmed. The fire exploded internally, even if I didn’t explode externally. And truthfully, that’s all that matters.

This wasn’t the first time I had a penile orgasm without ejaculating. I’ve done it maybe a dozen or so times before. I can’t control it and have no idea why it occurs. But I do think it’s my body trying to tell me something, though I’ll have to keep thinking about what, exactly, it means.

I pulled out soft and satisfied and returned to cuddling. He told me how much he needed this and how grateful he was for the experience.

“I haven’t felt sexy and desired in a long time,” he said. “And I’ve felt a lot of shame.”

I told him the pleasure was mine, which was true, though I also knew the service I provided him was far greater than the orgasm he provided me.

Eventually, he got up and dressed. It was time for him to go. Standing underneath the doorframe, I gave him a long hug and a final passionate kiss.

I don’t know exactly where this energy of mine came from. I had never engaged in sexual healing like this before, but it came to me naturally. Though, I suppose, I’ve always been a sexual healer—absolving people of their sexual shame. I had just done it through writing—my columns, zine, and memoir-manifesto.

This was the first time I healed in the flesh, and it felt right, aligned. While I know this way won’t reach as many people as through words, the impact on the individual will be far greater, dare I say, life-changing.

And so, it’s something I must continue. While slightly nervous, I’m more excited about what this new journey will hold and who I’ll meet and heal along the way.

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