Scratching the Itch

The Captain is a 6'4" tattooed and pierced punk/goth scenester in his early 30s. And he might just be a bigger whore than me. Our first get together, I went over his place and we were fucking within an hour (if up to me it would've been sooner, but he felt like talking, I guess). We were up until four in the morning, and I slept there for two hours before heading off to work.

I can barely remember all of it in order. It was just sucking, licking, biting, smacking, fucking fucking fucking. He was surprisingly impressed that I have no gag reflex and slapped my face while I gave him deep-throat. He knew I like breath play, so he'd pinch my nose shut and hold my head tight against him. So fucking hot. He's a moaner when getting head, which is the best; I hate guys who lie there and take is silently.

I do very, very distinctly remember the last fuck. He said, "I want you on your knees," and I got on the bed on all fours. He stood next to the bed and fucked me from behind hard. So damn hard the friction made me dry, and he kept on going. He reached forward and grabbed the front of my throat, choking me and pulling my head and torso backwards. With his other hand, he'd slap my face over and over while fucking like a monster.

He'd treated my mouth so rough that the next day my throat was seriously sore and I ended up losing my voice.