Gallery Carre
Pull My Daisy Chain
Jan 4th, 2025 by Holiday
We retired to the back bedroom of the spacious third-floor apartment to get high. The menu included marijuana, amyl nitrate poppers and throbbing cocks.
There were three of us: me, Bill and Jerry.
Ringmaster Bill, the late-40s gay hippie, rented the Central West End apartment on McPherson Avenue. His residence served as an unofficial commune that frequently attracted the staff of Duff’s, the newly opened restaurant on nearby Euclid Avenue.
Jerry was an attractively androgynous college student who provoked equal interest from men and women. Yet his enthusiasm for cock definitely exceeded what the fair sex offered.
Bill loaded some Zig-Zag papers with his medium-grade stash from Mexico. It was almost 11 p.m. and a light, December snowfall made the urban landscape appear enchanting.
Following a sumptuous, though informal, dinner party other people paired off gradually around the apartment for sexual shenanigans.
For instance, in the main hallway, an effeminate young man, wearing a tuxedo, performed cunnilingus on a phenomenally fat woman in a fur-covered ottoman. The middle-aged woman wore no panties and kept her jellied thighs spread wide and her dress hoisted above her waist with pudgy fingers.
Down the hall, in another bedroom, a well-built man in a ponytail and leather pants turned his zesty, curvaceous girlfriend over an antique wooden trunk and lightly whipped her bottom with great pep. She displayed the pole-axed numbness of a steer.
On a bed to one side, an older woman in librarian glasses spanked a young naked woman lying facedown, using both hands, as if she were tenderizing a steak.
The combination of marijuana and amyl nitrate erased our negligible inhibitions, and we abandoned all clothing rather quickly.
How many times Bill had sucked my cock over a 12-month period was impossible to say. He didn’t expect any reciprocation, and I offered none.
Those were the rule of the game. I didn’t touch the male body at all – because I was really straight.
Yet rules are meant to be broken, and when I saw Jerry without clothes my solid pose vanished instantly.
I didn’t waste time fondling his beautiful, thick cock. I went down on him like a true submissive.
My behavior was shameless and wanton – but most of all, I felt liberated from the charade that I was genuinely straight.
This acknowledgement didn’t bother Bill. He had the acceptance of a Zen master that everything is best.
How did the older man outwardly respond to my slut conversion? He assumed his usual role and performed fellatio on me.
We formed a natural daisy chain on the bed, and while the snow covered the city in a symbol of white purity, I savored every moment of Jerry’s wonderfully big cock.
Finally, he achieved his resolution and filled my mouth with the hot tribute.
Jerry initiated me into a new world, and I wanted to be his lover.
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