I had bought myself a nice black, seven-inch dildo at an adult bookstore when I was barely twenty. At first, it was a little uncomfortable. My eyes would water and I’d gag as the head hit the back of my throat. But, I didn’t give up. I was determined to become a dick-swallowing pro. Diligently, I kept practicing every night before I went to bed until I was finally able to deep throat that rubber cock balls deep. Then I purchased an eight-inch, and practiced religiously until I was also able to swallow it. Before long, I was able to move up to a nine-inch, then ten. And once I had them mastered, it was then, that I knew for certain I was ready to move on to the real thing. I’ve been sucking dick ever since.

The only difference is, back then I only sucked my boyfriends, men I loved; men who I wanted to be with. But now…now, I’m sucking a bunch of faceless, nameless men; men who I care nothing about. Men I have no emotional connection to. And that within itself makes what I’m doing that more dirty. I realize this. Still—as filthy and as raunchy and trifling as it is, it excites me. It entices me. And it keeps me wanting more.

As crazy as this will sound, when I’m down on my knees, or leaned over in a nigga’s lap with a mouthful of dick while he’s driving—it’s not him I’m sucking; it’s not his balls I’m wetting. It’s Jasper’s dick. It’s Jasper’s balls. It’s Jasper’s moans that I hear. It’s Jasper’s hands that I feel wrapped in my hair, holding the back of my neck. It’s Jasper stretching my neck. Not any other nigga. I close my eyes, and pretend. I make believe them other niggas don’t exist.

The dinging alerts me that I have new messages. I sit back in front of my screen, take a deep breath. Eight emails. I click on the first one:

Great ad! Good-looking married man here: 42, 5’9”, 7 cut, medium thick. Looking for a discreet, kinky woman who likes to eat and play with nice, big sweaty balls, lick in my musty crotch, and chew on my foreskin while I kick back. Can’t host.