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Tuesday is my favorite day of the week. I work doing landscaping work. I currently have ten clients. I am busy every weekday and sometimes on the weekend. I have a husband. His name is John. We have been together for seven years. He is 33 years old and I am 31.

My name is Robby. John and I both love oral sex and I love anal sex as well. John screws me about twice a week. He is a little guy, only five foot five but he is nicely hung. I am five foot four. I have what I consider to be an average sized cock, six inches, circumcised, with heavy balls. John's cock is bigger. A lot bigger. He says it is eight inches, but one time he let me measure it and it was closer to nine inches. Whatever it is, I love it. His scrotum is tight, his balls aren't as big as mine, but his cock is thick and I have adapted to its girth and love his body from head to toe.

You may have guessed that he is somewhat dominant and I am fairly docile. I was actually groomed to be submissive as a teenage. I idolized my dad's friend and next door neighbor. Joe. I can't think of a time when I didn't dream about sucking his cock. By the time he let it happen, I was nineteen. He had teased me a little for two weeks before letting me service him.

He had come right out and asked me if I had ever sucked cock. I had not and told him so. He asked me if I wanted to and I told him that I thought about it all the time. He kept telling me that I probably wouldn't like it once I finally got the chance to do it. He wasn't a particularly sexy guy, almost always dressed in a green mechanics uniform with his name label above his left pocket. He told me that sucking cock could get sloppy and that I was just to neat of a guy to enjoy that. He told me I probably would hate the taste of cum and wouldn't want it in my mouth. He told me that it would taste nasty and that I would never be able to swallow one of his loads without choking, gagging and spitting.

I didn't realize it at the time, but he was grooming me to be his personal cocksucker. He assured me that he had enjoyed dozens of blowjobs over the years. He said that cocksucking was an art that had to be learned. He told me some guys are really good at it and others, not so much. Naturally, I wanted to be one of the best.

The more he seemed to discourage me, the more I wanted it. I know now that his words were more to make me want it even more, but then, I thought he didn't have any interest in me.

By the time it finally happened, I knew from many conversations with him, just what he expected of me. He had told me many times that a cocksuckers job was to please other men. He warned me about scraping teeth on his tender flesh. He warned me that I should always try to take it deep, even if it made me gag. And mostly, he warned me that it was insulting to not swallow a man's load.

His cock was about the same size as mine. Not shabby, but not as big as I had hoped for. I had been cutting his grass and pulling weeds from a flower garden and a vegetable garden for nearly as year. One Sunday night after supper, When I was working in the vegetable garden, he walked close to me. I had only seen him in a pair of denim shorts two other times in my life. He came right to the point, asking me if I was ready to "fulfill my dreams."

I didn't hesitate to assure him that I did, but told him that all of his warnings and previous talk had caused me to lose my confidence. I was sure i would never be able to please him. He told me that I'd do just fine and asked me to follow him into the house.

We entered through the kitchen and he told me that if I would kneel on a small rug by the kitchen sink that it would be easier on my knees. He kicked off his sandals and as he put his hand on my should with a little pressure, I dropped to my knees. He said that if I really wanted it that I should remove his shorts. He said he didn't want to pressure me in any way. I fumbled as I unbuckled his belt and pulled his shorts down while he pulled off his white tee shirt.

I don't remember my initial thoughts. I was too nervous and excited. I remember that when I leaned forward to take his cock in my mouth, he told me to take my time. He told me to sniff and smell his crotch, to kiss has scrotum and gently kiss his cock. It wasn't fully erect, but was throbbing as it grew hard.

I kissed and licked and sniffed and I wanted it more than ever. It had a light scent of sweat and maybe even a little piss, but I wanted it more than I had ever wanted anything. Still, I decided not to take it in my mouth until he gave me permission.

I was clumsy, I'm sure, but I remembered everything he had told me. It felt good in my mouth and I loved the light scent of his crotch. His scrotum was covered with thick pubic hair and it tickled my tongue each time he instructed me to lick his balls.

I did gag every time I tried to take it in my throat. Joe didn't say anything about it, but each time I looked up at him apologetically before trying it again. He didn't surprise me when he ejaculated. I could hear his breathing grow heavier and his cock seemed to swell inside my mouth. When he finally shot his seed into my mouth, I was prepared for it. I knew what was expected of me and I swallowed his load so fast that I barely remember what it tasted like. Only later as I walked to my own house next door did I realize that the taste left in my mouth was salty and tasted like nothing I had ever known before.

Joe taught me a lot. I stuck around for a couple of months before I moved out of my parent's house, but each time I came to see my parents, I always stopped over to see Joe if his truck was in the driveway. A few times he called me and asked me come over. I got better with each encounter and by the end of summer, I had mastered the art of cocksucking.