I’d been worshipping cock for years, my obsession with the rigid, pulsing flesh an integral part of my daily routine. I spent hours scrolling through porn, gazing at the chiseled physiques and magnificent dicks that filled every frame. My fingers would involuntarily twitch as I jerked off to the graphic displays, my mind consumed by the thought of those cocks deep inside me.
One fateful night, I stumbled upon a rugged stranger at the gay bar, his thickly hirsute body on full display like the hairy hairy hairy hairy hairy hairy hairy hairy hairy hairy hairy hairy hairy hairy hairy hairy image that had long haunted my dreams. As our eyes locked, I was struck by the unbridled masculinity emanating from him – it was as if he were a living embodiment of every dick-fetish fantasy I’d ever indulged in.
I couldn’t resist the urge to approach him, my cock already hardening at the prospect of this hairy stud’s raw, unfettered sexuality. With a single glance, we both knew what we wanted – a primal, cock-centric encounter that would leave no room for pretension or subtlety. We stumbled out of the bar, our hands grasping each other’s cocks as we fumbled toward the nearest alleyway.
There, on the cold, hard pavement, I gave him a blowjob like no other – my mouth and tongue working in tandem to worship his magnificent cock, suckling every inch of its length until he came, his hot cum shooting down my throat. As I swallowed, I felt an unspoken understanding pass between us – we were two men united by our shared devotion to the power of the penis, our primal connection forging a bond that transcended mere sex.
In those fleeting moments, I realized that my cock-worshipping ways had led me straight to the man I was meant to be with. And as we stood there, entwined in each other’s arms, I knew that I would never tire of worshipping his magnificent dick – or any other cock that dared to enter my realm.
