I am a masochistic cocksucker..

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I am a masochistic cocksucker..I am a masochistic cocksucker. I mean, I like to give oral pleasure to ahyper-masculine, abusive-type straight guy. I like it when the guy calls menames, like “faggot,” “queer,” “bitch,” or “pervert.” I like to have theguy make me feel ashamed of myself for being so queer for him at the sametime that I’m doing my best to make his dick feel good in my mouth for him,sucking on it. I like to be spit at and slapped around abusively while I’mbeing called names. I like it when the guy calls up his buddies on thephone and tells them he’s got a “live one,” while I’m down on my kneesbetween his legs bobbing up and down on it, slurping it up, gagging on it.I like doing degrading stuff for him like sniffing out his sweaty nuts,licking his feet, sucking his toes, licking out his armpits and his assholefor him, while we wait for his pals to arrive.When his buddies nevşehir escort arrive with a case of beer, I take them all on, while theysmoke my cigarettes and grass and use me as their suck bitch. I like itwhen a sort of pack mentality begins to make some of the guys more abusive.I’ve enjoyed being pissed on by guys–either all at once or else takingturns, one after the other. I’ve also submitted to beltings and whippings.I get excited when it feels like it might get out of hand. After a trulyabusive session, when you’d think I would have felt the worst, I insteadfeel relieved, relaxed and empowered. .In my case the ultimate cause of this masochism was inadequate fathering.My dad was an iron worker and I remember him mostly being too tired to doanything with us boys (except, significantly, the occasional spanking). Somany of the skills I needed to function socially escort nevşehir as a boy (i.e. learn tothrow a ball, learn to ride a bike) I had to do the best I could on my own.When a cousin or a pal would help me learn these things, I would end uphaving a crush on him (what I really needed was a dad). Since spankingswere one type of interaction my dad did do, I ended up making this powerdisplay a central theme in my adult fantasy life. I thought that somehow,if my dad really whipped me hard (which he never did) it would somehow”make a man out of me.”In the early sixties it was still common for dads to whip their sons inworking-class neighborhoods. I remember hearing a k** down the streetreally “getting it” from his dad, on more than one occasion, who used arazor strop on his boys out in the garage. The k** once showed me hiswelts the day after a particularly brutal nevşehir escort bayan beating when we were both aroundtwelve. I was turned-on by this even then.Since I so craved masculine attention and didn’t know how to fight, I fellvictim to bullies in junior high school. They would abuse me in the boysroom after school, making me light their cigarettes or kiss their sneakers,making me hold their dicks for them while they pissed. I thought if I justdo what they say, I won’t get hurt. They would call me names while theyabused me for kicks.Although I repressed this (even now the memories are hazy and partial)these kinds of actions became very heavily charged as symbols of power andcontinue to play a major role in my fantasy life to this day. Although Inever fantasize about these incidents themselves, I can see now that Irestage variations of them. It is called “identification with theaggressor,” when someone being forcibly dominated begins to get off on thesadistic abuse itself, as a sort of defense mechanism.I used to think that if I understood my masochism, it would disappear. Itdidn’t, but at least for me it’s no longer a mystery.

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