Here is a little list of things for Cocksuckers to keep in mind. Please take this with a grain of salt. Hopefully, your needs are met, too, but fun to play with.
Grasp Firmly at the Base
The Cocksucker’s Pledge. 1. I WILL SWALLOW unless otherwise instructed. A man’s cum deserves as much respect as the man himself. Swallowing reinforces the bond between man and cocksucker.
2. I WILL DEEPTHROAT to the best of my ability, regardless of whether I gag. A well-rounded cocksucker must master the use of his lips, tongue, AND throat to maximize a man’s pleasure.
3. I WILL NOT USE MY HANDS unless instructed. My mouth is my sexual organ.
4. I WILL NOT TOUCH MYSELF when sucking a man’s Cock. His pleasure is my own. To suggest otherwise is deeply disrespectful.
5. I WILL NOT EXPECT RECIPROCATION—ever. See above.
6. I WILL MAKE MYSELF AVAILABLE and service on his terms. A man should never have to jerk himself off when a cocksucker could do the job instead.
7. I WILL ALLOW HIM TO CALL ME NAMES, such as “faggot”, “cocksucker” and “slut”, regardless of whether I enjoy this. A cocksucker must accept his place on the sexual totem pole. Such names are a man’s way of claiming this superiority over a cocksucker.
8. I WILL CONTINUE TO SERVICE for as long as a man deems appropriate, whether minutes or hours, without complaint.
I pledge these things because I am a cocksucker, because I am in awe of men and am at their service, and because it is their charity that allows me even to come close to some sort of sexual fulfillment.
Tracy was my first lover. That’s what we used to call them back in the day. And what a lover he was. He was the first real relationship I had after coming out to the military and with my family. I was wearing a little tank top, leaning against the wall with my knee up like I had seen other men who were cruising do. What did I know? He walked by me with a huge smirking grin like only Tracy could do, snapped my tank top strap and said, “whimp”. Then walked off. I don’t think anybody else could have pulled that off without seeming like a complete asshole. But I knew somehow that it meant that he liked what he saw.
I gathered the courage to go talk to him and we were together from then on… until we weren’t.
Tracy was an enigma in many ways. There were always hazy rumors about his past beyond just being a know hound dog for sex. There were the rumors that he hustled on Santa Monica Blvd. There were the rumors that he slept with Freddie Mercury. And there were the rumors of his porn star past.
Eventually, I did get a chance to see the Honcho magazine. Truth be told, he wasn’t ashamed of it in any way. He was proud of it, but he didn’t really promote it too much because somehow the photographer managed to make his dick look smaller than it really was. That really pissed him off. He had a reputation and he didn’t want it tarnished in any way.
As someone who has had his dick down my throat and up my ass, I can attest that it is indeed bigger than it looks in these photos. But the hottest picture of the bunch, in my opinion, is the cover shot of him licking his armpit in mirrored glasses. Tracy’s face and facial expressions relayed his sexuality. everyone who talked with him felt that, even those who knew he was never going to have sex with them. He could have given Ted talks on Flirting. He was the master at it.
When we moved to San Diego, Tracy was getting a bit older and HIV was starting to be a looming presence. He knew that I was new to all of this and wasn’t going to become monogamous anytime soon (like never). He was craving stability that I wasn’t going to be able to give him. He found another partner and He and I stayed close until his death a couple of years later.
I can remember at the memorial service asking his partner about the Honcho magazine and if it was something he could part with. He told me that he didn’t want to let that go and felt it was somehow disrespectful to Tracy’s memory. It’s not something to argue about so I left it alone. I knew that Tracy was very proud of that Honcho edition.
Over the years, during every trip to San Francisco, I would go to a used gay porn store on 18th street called Auto Erotica (it’s still there) and search through the bins of old Honcho magazines. I’d spend hours sometimes flipping through the bins to no avail.
About two years ago, while living in San Francisco, I decided to give it another shot. I walked up the stairs and one of the first things I saw was an old tee shirt for sale that was from a bar I worked at in San Diego called Wolfs. I had never had a tee shirt from there and was excited to get my hands on it. It gave me hope that my luck was running hot. I walked over to the bins and flipped one magazine forward and there was Tracy’s beautiful face beaming up at me in Mirrored sunglasses. It was indeed my lucky day. I also found a Drummer magazine that had an ad in it that featured Tracy as one of the models.
I’ve had many times when I felt that Tracy was helping me out and guiding me along if only to help me have a great night of sex. This was one of the times when I knew that Tracy and I still had a connection.
So here are the photos from that Honcho and Drummer magazine that I’ve been writing about. Just remember that his dick was way bigger than it looks. Tracy would want you to know that. Also, know that I still love him with all my heart and miss him every day.
The HVAC man came by the other day, I was watching him out the window. I went outside in a little pair of shorts with a half stiffy to see if he needed anything.
He said no, then I went back in and watched him through the window. I stood in a place he could see me. I could see him start to get stiff as I got stiff.
I began rubbing my dick through my shorts and he started reaching into his pants for a handful of cock.
He jacked his fat donger on my window and then finished his HVAC job.
1566 oil-on-panel painting by Pieter Bruegel the Elder.
Checking out the Piece
Dog Sniffing Codpiece
Actual Leather Codpiece
Looking for all things penis, as I often do, I found these very sexy writings about a father and son and their travels. I was looking specifically for references to the codpiece, and how it must have been a very knee-trembling thing to behold for early horny men and boys in their repressed times. But as I was reading it, it seemed clear that the phallus has held a strong fascination from very early on.
The Codpiece was in fashion in the 15 and 16th centuries. It was both decorative (and I surmise, enticing), and for the actual protection. Cod, in Middle English, meant Scrotum, so eat up those fish and chips, mates!
The Life of Gargantua and of Pantagruel (French: La vie de Gargantua et de Pantagruel) is a pentalogy of novels written in the 16th century by François Rabelais, which tells of the adventures of two giants, Gargantua (/ɡɑːrˈɡæntʃuːə/; French: [ɡaʁ.ɡɑ̃.ty.a]) and his son Pantagruel (/pænˈtæɡruːˌɛl, -əl, ˌpæntəˈɡruːəl/; French: [pɑ̃.ta.ɡʁy.ɛl]). The text is written in an amusing, extravagant, and satirical vein, and features much crudity, scatological humor, and violence (lists of explicit or vulgar insults fill several chapters).
The censors of the Collège de la Sorbonne stigmatized it as obscene, and in a social climate of increasing religious oppression in a lead up to the French Wars of Religion, it was treated with suspicion, and contemporaries avoided mentioning it. According to Rabelais, the philosophy of his giant Pantagruel, “Pantagruelism”, is rooted in “a certain gaiety of mind pickled in the scorn of fortuitous things” (French: une certaine gaîté d’esprit confite dans le mépris des choses fortuites).
Rabelais had studied Ancient Greek and he applied it in inventing hundreds of new words in the text, some of which became part of the French language. Wordplay and risqué humor abound in his writing.
Nature, nevertheless, did not after that manner provide for the sempiternizing of (the) human race; but, on the contrary, created man naked, tender, and frail, without either offensive or defensive arms; and that in the estate of innocence, in the first age of all, which was the golden season; not as a plant, but living creature, born for peace, not war, and brought forth into the world with an unquestionable right and title to the plenary fruition and enjoyment of all fruits and vegetables, as also to a certain calm and gentle rule and dominion over all kinds of beasts, fowls, fishes, reptiles, and insects. Yet afterwards it happening in the time of the iron age, under the reign of Jupiter, when, to the multiplication of mischievous actions, wickedness and malice began to take root and footing within the then perverted hearts of men, that the earth began to bring forth nettles, thistles, thorns, briars, and such other stubborn and rebellious vegetables to the nature of man. Nor scarce was there any animal which by a fatal disposition did not then revolt from him, and tacitly conspire and covenant with one another to serve him no longer, nor, in case of their ability to resist, to do him any manner of obedience, but rather, to the uttermost of their power, to annoy him with all the hurt and harm they could. The man, then, that he might maintain his primitive right and prerogative, and continue his sway and dominion over all, both vegetable and sensitive creatures, and knowing of a truth that he could not be well accommodated as he ought without the servitude and subjection of several animals, bethought himself that of necessity he must needs put on arms, and make provision of harness against wars and violence. By the holy Saint Babingoose, cried out Pantagruel, you are become, since the last rain, a great lifrelofre,–philosopher, I should say. Take notice, sir, quoth Panurge, when Dame Nature had prompted him to his own arming, what part of the body it was, where, by her inspiration, he clapped on the first harness. It was forsooth by the double pluck of my little dog the ballock and good Senor Don Priapos Stabo-stando–which done, he was content, and sought no more. This is certified by the testimony of the great Hebrew captain (and) philosopher Moses, who affirmeth that he fenced that member with a brave and gallant codpiece, most exquisitely framed, and by right curious devices of a notably pregnant invention made up and composed of fig-tree leaves, which by reason of their solid stiffness, incisory notches, curled frizzling, sleeked smoothness, large ampleness, together with their colour, smell, virtue, and faculty, were exceeding proper and fit for the covering and arming of the satchels of generation–the hideously big Lorraine cullions being from thence only excepted, which, swaggering down to the lowermost bottom of the breeches, cannot abide, for being quite out of all order and method, the stately fashion of the high and lofty codpiece; as is manifest by the noble Valentine Viardiere, whom I found at Nancy, on the first day of May–the more flauntingly to gallantrize it afterwards–rubbing his ballocks, spread out upon a table after the manner of a Spanish cloak. Wherefore it is, that none should henceforth say, who would not speak improperly, when any country bumpkin hieth to the wars, Have a care, my roister, of the wine-pot, that is, the skull, but, Have a care, my roister, of the milk-pot, that is, the testicles. By the whole rabble of the horned fiends of hell, the head being cut off, that single person only thereby dieth. But, if the ballocks be marred, the whole race of human kind would forthwith perish, and be lost for ever.
This was the motive which incited the goodly writer Galen, Lib. 1. De Spermate, to aver with boldness that it was better, that is to say, a less evil, to have no heart at all than to be quite destitute of genitories; for there is laid up, conserved, and put in store, as in a successive repository and sacred warehouse, the sentence and original source of the whole offspring of mankind. Therefore would I be apt to believe, for less than a hundred francs, that those are the very same stones by means whereof Deucalion and Pyrrha restored the human race, in people with men and women the world, which a little before that had been drowned in the overflowing waves of a poetical deluge. This stirred up the valiant Justinian, L. 4. De Cagotis tollendis, to collocate his Summum Bonum, in Braguibus, et Braguetis. For this and other causes, the Lord Humphrey de Merville, following of his king to a certain warlike expedition, whilst he was in trying upon his own person a new suit of armour, for of his old rusty harness he could make no more use, by reason that some few years since the skin of his belly was a great way removed from his kidneys, his lady thereupon, in the profound musing of a contemplative spirit, very maturely considering that he had but small care of the staff of love and packet of marriage, seeing he did no otherwise arm that part of the body than with links of mail, advised him to shield, fence, and gabionate it with a big tilting helmet which she had lying in her closet, to her otherwise utterly unprofitable. On this lady were penned these subsequent verses, which are extant in the third book of the Shitbrana of Paltry Wenches.
When Yoland saw her spouse equipp’d for fight,
And, save the codpiece, all in armour dight,
My dear, she cried, why, pray, of all the rest
Is that exposed, you know I love the best?
Was she to blame for an ill-managed fear,–
Or rather pious, conscionable care?
Wise lady, she! In hurlyburly fight,
Can any tell where random blows may light?
Leave off then, sir, from being astonished, and wonder no more at this new manner of decking and trimming up of myself as you now see me.
