Yet no sooner had James cleaned away must and mould from his mind than his thoughts wandered once more. He momentarily wondered if the Greeks and Romans had filthy words that he’d not yet discovered to describe their glorious toys, or even if they had their own kinds of experimental variances and innovations in the way us moderns do. ‘Did anyone invent the ancient equivalent of the rabbit dildo for women?’ James wondered to himself, even as he imagined he could smell the very particular sensuous odour of Richard, his first ever Dick, right in front of him.
‘You are my Richard I’, James thought and almost giggled at the absurdity of the regal and majestic-tinged thought in that more earthy and grounded moment. His mind continued to wander further, though at least with his body he got on with his version of what a majestic and joyous task really looks like. James breathed a huge and full body sigh of relief as he went just a little further and properly took Richard’s swelled bulbous head into his mouth. The feeling was soothing on his lips and tongue. It helped to settle his nerves some more. But it immediately also fired his imagination in another direction.
‘What about for men?’ James’ line of thought continued as he more fully tasted that previously forbidden satisfaction. ‘Might they have also enjoyed impaling themselves on an ancient version of the ultimate selfie stick? Sappho may have been substantially concerned with women, but surely we aren’t so different that the use of homo-erotic toys for men never arose in some way.’ Jump forward to the Italian Renaissance in Florence and even inside stories told by supposedly virtuous youth, one finds Boccaccio’s humour about men who put their business in dry as opposed to wet openings.
The dryness was obvious and intentional code for gay male as opposed to heterosexual sex. In this sense James’ tastes had always had a Boccaccio-esque tinge to them, even if he had never before allowed himself to savour such flavours. He was going through his own form of divine experience as his tastings began. James had grown up mostly straight but had long known that wasn’t the whole story. Only now and finally in his forties was he, as it were, getting Richard I ready to Boccaccio him, though definitely with lots of modern lube.
‘Surely those brilliant ancients, let alone the innovative Florentines of Boccaccio’s world, worked out creative ways to moisten those lovely but dry openings?’ James continued to muse to himself as he hardened whilst he warmed further to the task of pleasuring Richard. He was sure that Boccaccio was showcasing his wicked and dry sense of humour, and then almost laughed out loud once more at his own play on words. It was yet another absurd thought in the midst of kneeling devotions to his very own royal majesty.
James’ ongoing distraction caused him to gag, given his lips and mouth had well and truly passed over Richard’s glistening head and he was beginning to work him deeper into his mouth. He had been trying to get him further inside and down his throat far too quickly given his excitement and enthusiasm. What on earth was James thinking. This was not a conventional moment to let one’s mind wander into literature, to reflect on the virtues of dildos of different ages and different points in time, or else potential ancient and early modern variations of the wonders of lube.
Yes, focussing in on the literotic elements of what was supposed to be so-called respectable literature was pleasurable, especially given he could internally poke fun at all the well-to-do prudes who self-denied some of the deliciously wicked best possibilities right in front of them. But he also needed to slow down, quieten his mind, and enjoy what was right there. That’s what he told himself. He was, after all, still kneeling on the floor in front of Richard, and becoming more and more intoxicated by the experience of what they were doing together.
As James’ intoxication increased so did his pace and his effectiveness. It didn’t take long before Richard couldn’t resist any longer, and released jet after jet of warm and delicious offering into James’ hungry mouth, to then travel onwards to his grateful and previously-starved stomach. The whole experience was better than James had dared to dream. It had been fast, furious, passionate, and enormously messy. Excess did drip out of his lips and made a mess of his chin, chest, his sexy low-cut blouse, and lace-topped bra.
Having Richard’s cum inside and all over him felt sticky and dirty, and that feeling was reinforced as James looked down and saw cream scattered everywhere. In short, it made James felt like a filthy, depraved, totally disinhibited cum slut. What’s more he’d never enjoyed any other feeling more in his life. Having unleashed that inside of him he now wanted to go much, much further and complete a transformation. He was afraid the feeling would pass and he didn’t want it to pass. He slowly and carefully cleaned up every last remaining drop of nectar from off of Richard’s length, swallowing it all down even whilst leaving other remnants covered all over himself.
James was determined to keep on feeling and revelling in his filthiness. He imagined how depraved and fabulously submissive this servant of Dick would look to his majesty, and that thought drove him to go deeper into his new role. In his cum-covered and cum-filled state he re-started on Richard once more and in earnest. The first time amounted to the frantic and haphazard efforts of an enthusiastic beginner. All evidence pointed to how well he had done. But James was now determined to take things up a notch and become a cock-sucking superstar. Under James’ eager and ever more confident attentions it didn’t take long for Richard to be at full attention once more.
James settled and was doing well going at a slower pace, finding a more even and steady rhythm bobbing up and down. He found that if he was able to relax, enjoy the moment, open his throat, and calm his thoughts and body he was able to get Richard just a little further into his mouth and down his throat with each movement forwards. He wished Richard would hold his head gently but firmly, guide himself in, and even thrust his hips to meet his bobs. James would have said as much except his mouth was obviously already occupied. Besides, despite his majestic standing Richard was thoughtful, gentle, and kind aside from being so well endowed.
James suspected that Richard wanted to show care and even love to his faithful servant, and so was perhaps over-cautious on this first time. By contrast James started to wish for a face-fucking. For now that would have to wait. Such extra pleasures could be for more advanced play and something to look forward to. The thought of that spurred him on to earn his stripes. James was getting better at this with every bob down of his head, every lick, every insertion into his throat, and every passing second. Each time he went down he was now only an inch or so away from having that promising and firm bulbous head and shaft all the way in until his lips covered the very base. That was the goal.