Tales from Schooner Street: Don

Tales from Schooner Street: DonWritten by kurrginatorX
It all began with me responding to a post on Facebook. Some really misinformed guy wrote saying that sex and gender were the same thing and that everyone needed to stop making up new ways to define people. According to him, if one was born with a penis, then his gender was male, and if one were born with a vagina, then her gender was female. "And forget about these trans-testicles or whatever they call themselves," he wrote. "They're nothing more than faggots in drag." His diatribe knew no bounds, and he was unrelenting in espousing it.

Having just completed a course in Sex and Gender Ethics at the university, I felt I was more than capable of not just responding to this senseless mess of words, but to bringing enlightenment to the poor fellow as well, and I was determined to do so without resorting to name-calling or even humiliating him.

I began by stating that sex was the reproductive organ one was born with while gender was how the individual identified him- or herself. I then cited many peer-reviewed papers by specialists in their respective fields, and finished up with explaining how I was male-gendered, but I was bisexual, which in no way bespoke sex or gender. In the end, I left a really compelling argument that any rational-minded person could accept, only that wasn't the case.

He responded back by calling me a faggot who was responsible for spreading AIDS to heterosexuals, then went on to suggest that every psychologist's paper I had cited wasn't worth reading because they all were liberal socialist commies. It was truly pathetic. I decided to say nothing more. The following day, however,

I was amazed to see that over one hundred people had responded to that post, most praising me for my contribution while vilifying the guy who made the initial post. There were some who sided with him, though, yet, like most hate mongers, all they did was resort to name-calling instead of providing any real substance to the conversation.

Later that day, I received an IM from someone I did not know, someone named Al Weiss. Al thanked me for attempting to educate the guy, and asked me for my email address because, "I have something I think you'd be interested in seeing." Thinking it may be a link to yet another paper on the topic of sex and gender, I readily gave it to him. That night, before going to bed, I saw I had an email with an attachment from Al. I opened it, and what I saw was not what I had expected at all.

It was a picture of an erect penis. His penis? I had to assume so. Why would he send this to me? I wondered as I looked it. I logged out of my email, shut down my computer, then went to bed. I lay there for the better part of an hour, unable to sleep as that picture of Al's penis stayed in my mind. I got up, returned to my computer, and pulled up the email again. I looked at his penis really hard, studying it. He man-scaped, which was nice. His balls hung nicely, not too low. The shaft of his penis was a light tan color, was perfectly round, and appeared to be about six-and-a-half inches in length. The bulbous head was lightly purple and added about another inch to his length. All in all, it was quite lovely, and I masturbated to it.

After cleaning myself off, I wrote to him.

Hi Al,

To what do I owe the pleasure of this pic?


The reply was almost immediate.

Hi Don,

This is what your response to that loser did to me.


I smiled at that.

Do all the people who respond to guys like that get this kind of reaction out of you?

Once again, immediately,

No, just the ones who are intellectually stimulating enough to provide an answer such as you did. In other words, only you. : )

I responded with,

Glad I could be of service.

Then I shut down my computer and went back to bed. I slept like a baby. When I awoke, I went straight to my email and found that Al had sent one only ten minutes ago, and there was another file attached. I eagerly opened it. It was another pic of his erect penis.

Dear Don,

I woke up this morning thinking of you and look what happened.


Dear Al,

What a beautiful way to start my day. Kiss that thing for me if you can.


Dear Don,

If only I were so limber. I guess I'll have to rely on you to kiss it yourself.


And so it went for a few weeks. We didn't write each other every day, but enough that interest and tension were surely building, on both parts. I got to the point that I really wanted that cock. I masturbated over it quite frequently. One day, I decided that if he were somehow within driving range, I would make the trip just so I could finally wrap my lips around it.

Dear Al,

Where do you live? If you're close enough, then maybe we can make this happen.


Dear Don,

I live in Chattanooga, TN. How close are you to there?


Dear Al,

I live in Valdosta, Georgia. I checked MapQuest, It's almost 350 miles between us. Unless some miracle occurs, I really don't see anything coming of this.


Dear Don,

Did you ask for a miracle? It seems the gods favor us. It just so happens that every couple of weeks I drive from my home to my grandmother's house in Tampa. I stay with her for two weeks, then return home. If I may be so bold, I see that I-75 clearly runs through Valdosta. It sure would be nice to have a mid-point overnight layover as that is a grueling one-day trip. It would afford us seeing one another at least twice a month. Let me know what you think. Oh, yeah, this latest pic is to help sway you, not that you need it, I think.


Dear Al,

I am so fucking hard right now. Hell yes you can stay the night. Just don't be too surprised if you don't have the strength to leave out the next morning as I am planning on draining you DRY. Just let me know when to expect you.


Dear Don,

I will be leaving out this coming Friday at noon, so I should be in Valdosta around five or six, traffic and weather permitting. So hard right now. Counting down the days.


Dear Al,

My address is 513 Schooner Street Valdosta, Georgia 31605. Put that in your GPS and it should get you right here. Waiting patiently (Well, not really. More like anxiously)


I counted the days down, too, and Friday just couldn't get here fast enough. It finally did, though, and at 5:45 I saw a car pull into my driveway. It was Al. I rushed to the door and stood there, waiting. He knocked, but I did not immediately open it as I did not want to give the impression of being too anxious. He rang the doorbell, I counted to ten, then nonchalantly opened the door.

"Oh, Al. You made it," I said as I extended my hand. "How was your trip?"

He shook it, then hugged me to him as he said, "Long and hard." Was that the truth, or was he describing his cock that was even now poking me in the thigh? As he pulled back, he sniffed in the air and asked, "What's that I smell?"

"Oh, I thought you might be hungry when you got here so I grilled us a couple of steaks, complete with baked potato and asparagus," I answered with a proud smile.

"Yeah, I could eat," he said, and I led him to the dining room.

We talked about everything but sex, and it was good conversation. I learned a lot about him, and he learned about me as well. When we were done, he helped me load the dishwasher, then asked, "Do you mind if I catch SportsCenter real quick? I just need to check some scores."

"Go ahead," I told him. "Channel thirty-seven." I swept the kitchen and dining room as he watched, then went to join him just as he was turning the TV off. "Oh, let me show you to your room," I said, and he followed me down the hall. "Your own bathroom is here to the left," I pointed out as we walked past it, "and this is your room for the night. Mine is at the other end of the hall." I know what we had talked about, I know what we had planned, but I didn't want to assume that we would actually sleep together as I didn't know his sleeping habits and he didn't know mine.

"I'm going to take advantage of a shower, if that's okay."

"Mi casa es su casa," I answered, and left him to it.

I had just recently started on Stephen King's The Dark Tower series. I was halfway through book one, The Gunslinger, so I decided to read a few pages while Al bathed. I had actually gotten about ten good pages in when I heard the door open, and immediately my eyes turned toward the end of the hallway.

Al stepped out of the bathroom wearing blue jogging shorts and nothing else. He looked my way, then started toward my room. He rounded my bed, and I could tell immediately that he was sporting a half-woody, what we used to call a "Melvin." Not that it's relevant to the story, but when I was younger, my friends and I developed a system by which one could state the rigidity of his penis by attaching a name to it, so a completely limp one was a Tommy, a quarter-hard was a Peter, a half-hard was a Melvin (or a Chubby, both were acceptable), a three-quarters hard was a Donald, and, of course, completely hard was a Dick.

I looked between Al's legs and smiled. I removed my glasses, then set my book on the night stand and my glasses upon the book. Al reached out and turned the lamp off. I reached out and turned it back on. He smiled at me, and I scrunched down on the bed.

Al climbed onto the bed and straddled my face, then slowly fed his balls to me. I grabbed him by the hips as I took them into my mouth and lovingly sucked on them. I wanted him to know that I appreciated this moment we were sharing, and that I would make it as memorable as it could be. He moaned softly as I caressed his scrotum with my tongue, and I continued to do so until it tightened, then I pulled back and said, "Lay down."

I had every intention of making slow, sweet love to his beautiful cock with my mouth. Once he was on his back, I moved over and began to slowly kiss my way up the shaft of his rigid prick. I stopped just where that piece of skin attaches the head to the shaft and lightly flicked my tongue across it. His cock pulsated as he shuddered. I smiled. I then ran my lips down to the hilt, then back up again, stopping just before I reached his purplish head. His cock seemed to jump in anticipation of what was to come, but it didn't happen. Not yet.

I continued to run my wet lips up and down his shaft, ensuring every inch of it had been blessed by my mouth. He was softly moaning, and his cock couldn't have gotten any more hard unless it molted first.

I positioned myself in front of him, lightly grabbed his cock at the base, then began to lick that piece of skin, extending my tongue to the tip. He jumped. I licked it again, very slowly, and felt his cock spasm as he jumped again.

"Oh, shit," Al whispered. "Put it in your mouth, Don," but I didn't. I continued to slowly lick it as I had been. It pulsed a few more times. I kept on in my duty to this magnificent piece of flesh, slowly licking it, reveling in its warmth and taste. Al finally screamed, "Oh fuck!" and my mouth immediately found its way around his cockhead. He spurted six times in my mouth, and I felt every one of them as they hit the roof of my mouth. I lightly jerked his cock at the base as I worked the head over really well. He had tensed up for all of fifteen seconds, then collapsed back onto the bed, and that is when I swallowed his thick, creamy cum.

"What the fuck was that?" he asked, astonished.

"Hopefully the best blowjob you ever had," I answered before I took his whole length into my mouth.

"Oh, God. You want more?"

"Mmm-hmmm," I answered around his cock.

I continued to suck him in search of another orgasm, and after a couple of minutes he said, "Pull your shorts off and lay down." I did, and he moved on top into a sixty-nine. Oh, how glorious the feeling of having my dick sucked as I sucked his.

He slowly fed me his cock as I gently moved in and out of his mouth. I wrapped my arms around him, a loving embrace as he made love to my mouth, and I to his. Not five minutes in and Al started digging into me. I pulled him closer so that he could stretch my throat with every thrust. He finally pushed his entire length into my mouth and growled around my cock as he came; the vibrations from his mouth, coupled with my mouth being filled once again with his cum, drove me over the edge, and I grunted release of my own.

We lay there together, neither of us wanting to separate, but we did. Al lay next to me and smiled. I smiled back. "So, was it worth the layover?" I asked him.

"Ask me that this same time next year," he responded.

I wouldn't have to. I already knew the answer.

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