Line of Duty

I didn’t normally do hand jobs on the first date, but Don had been a marine. He’d served his country. It kind of felt like I was honouring that.

He told me that he lost his left ball on active duty. Apparently, the bleeding had been difficult to stop – if it hadn’t been for the quick thinking and selflessness of his buddy, he’d have been dead. So now he just counted himself lucky to still be alive. Every day was a blessing.

As I gripped his cock, stretching it up over his tight stomach while he moaned and arched his back, I could see the right ball moving beneath the surface of the skin, but there was nothing on the other side. It was kind of fascinating and distracting. I pressed a finger against the remaining one and he squirmed in response.

“Do that again,” he said. “Fuck, Β Jessica.”

“Jenna,” I said. Not that I really cared. I had already decided there wouldn’t be a second date. He wasn’t much of a conversationalist.

I love to watch as the foreskin of a penis slides back and forth over the head, stretching back and revealing the soft, sensitive skin underneath. I rubbed it against his stomach as it came free, then popped the hood back over.

“I’m gonna cum right now.”

“Do it, baby.”

“Aren’t you… oh, fuck… aren’t you going to suck me?”


Blow jobs were definitely not a first date thing. I swirled a fingertip around the head of his penis, aiming it up over his body as I watched it swell and change colour, then he wriggled and shot his load.

Once, twice.

He turned his head, but it landed on his face anyway.

Judging by the amount that came out, that one ball must have been working overtime to make up for its missing twin.

He spat and coughed, and shouted curses after me, but I let myself out.

Written for Masturbation Monday Week 85


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