I’m a Straight Guy, but I Blow a Married Man Every Morning

It was late, another night in the deafening silence of my house. My wife was asleep in the next room, her back turned to me, a wall of cold indifference between us. We hadn’t touched in months. We hadn’t even fought in weeks. We just existed. My thumb moved with a mind of its own, scrolling through faces and bodies on Sniffy’s, each one a blur of manufactured desire. I’m straight. At least, I thought I was. But a straight man in a loveless marriage starts looking for cracks in the foundation, and I was staring at a whole damn fault line.

Then I saw it. No picture, just text that hit me like a punch to the gut.

“Always horny in the morning, always looking for somebody to suck my dick first thing. You stop on your way to work, suck my dick and leave. My wife sleeps in late. She doesn’t have to know anything.”

My cock, which had been dead for what felt like years, went rock hard. Another married man. Straight. A secret blowjob before work while his wife was just upstairs. The raw, unapologetic selfishness of it, the risk, the sheer depravity… it was everything I hadn’t known I was craving. My hands shook as I typed out a reply. The next two mornings were a cycle of shameful excitement and gutless cowardice. I’d get dressed, get in my car, and then drive right past the exit, my heart pounding with a mixture of fear and self-loathing, telling myself I was insane.

On the third morning, the ache in my balls was stronger than the fear. I parked two blocks away, my palms sweating on the steering wheel. The side door to the basement was unlocked, just as he’d said. The air inside was cool and smelled of sawdust and laundry detergent. He was there, on a worn-out couch, wearing nothing but a bathrobe. He was older than me, with a hard face and the start of a beer gut, but the power radiating off him was intoxicating.

“You came,” he said, a smirk playing on his lips. “I was starting to think you were just another keyboard warrior.”

My throat was too dry to answer. I just nodded.

“Then get on your knees and show me you’re not wasting my time.”

The concrete was cold and rough through my jeans as I sank down. This was it. The point of no return. He opened his robe, and his cock was right there in my face. It was thick and heavy, and the sheer reality of it made my head spin. I leaned forward, my own lifeless marriage a distant memory, and wrapped my lips around the head. I had never done this before, but my body knew what to do. I was born to do this.

He groaned, his hand coming to rest on the back of my head, guiding me. “That’s it, take it all,” he grunted, pushing me down. I choked slightly but adjusted, taking more of his thick shaft into my mouth. I found a rhythm, bobbing my head, my hand working what my mouth couldn’t cover. His hips began to thrust, fucking my face.

“You’re a natural at this,” he panted. “Such a good boy.”

The words sent a jolt through my body. No one had ever called me that before. In my marriage, I was the provider, the problem-solver, the silent partner. Here, on my knees, being called a “good boy” by this married stranger — something about it made my own cock strain against my jeans. As his breathing grew ragged, I felt my phone being pulled from my pocket. I tensed for a moment, but his hand tightened in my hair, holding me in place. Then I heard the click of a camera.

The flash went off, momentarily blinding me. He took another picture, then another, documenting me with my mouth full of his cock. Instead of being horrified, I felt a surge of excitement. The evidence, the risk — it was intoxicating. He grunted, his hips jerking as he came. I swallowed, the bitter taste filling my mouth. When I pulled back, a few drops landed on my chin.

“Clean yourself up,” he said, already tucking himself back into his robe. “And get out.”

I scrambled to my feet and hurried out. My face burned with shame, but my cock was still rock hard.

For the next three days, I returned each morning. Each time, the routine was the same: I’d arrive, find him waiting, drop to my knees, and service him until he came. And each time, he’d take pictures. “Look at the camera,” he’d command. “Show me how much you love this cock.” I’d comply, my eyes meeting the lens as I sucked. The humiliation mixed with arousal was a potent cocktail. I found myself thinking about it all day at work, my cock aching in my pants, while my wife texted me about what we needed from the grocery store.

On the fifth day, my boss called a last-minute meeting. I texted him: “Can’t make it this morning. Working late today.”

The reply came almost instantly: “You might want to rethink that.” Attached were four photos — me on my knees, mouth full, eyes locked with the camera. In each one, my face was clearly visible.

I stared at the images, my heart racing. I should be terrified. Blackmailed. But instead, I felt a thrill course through me. The control this man had over me, the power dynamic — it was everything I hadn’t known I wanted. It was the exact opposite of my hollow, powerless life at home.

“Be there in 20,” I typed back.

When I arrived, he was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. He grabbed me by the collar, pulling me close. “Thought you could skip out on me?” he growled. “Thought you had a choice?” I shook my head, my body trembling with anticipation. “Get on your knees,” he commanded, pushing me down. “Since you tried to bail, today’s going to be different.”

This time was rougher. He fucked my face with abandon, his balls slapping against my chin. My eyes watered, but I didn’t resist. I took it all, my hands gripping his thighs for support. “Such a good little cocksucker,” he grunted. “You live for this, don’t you?” I moaned around his cock, the words sending shivers through my body.

When he finally came, he held my head in place, forcing me to swallow every drop. I felt the warm liquid sliding down my throat, my own cock straining against my zipper. “Stand up,” he commanded. I complied, my legs unsteady. He reached out, cupping my erection through my jeans. “Looks like someone enjoyed that,” he smirked. “But good boys don’t get to come. Not yet.”

He gave my cock a squeeze before stepping back. “Same time tomorrow,” he said, already turning to leave. “And don’t even think about being late.”

I nodded, my mouth too dry to speak. As I walked out to my car, my mind was already racing with thoughts of tomorrow. I was hooked, completely under this man’s control. I was his personal little bitch. And I’d never been more turned on in my life.

The next morning was different. There was no hesitation, no internal battle. My body moved on its own, a slave to a new routine. The alarm went off, and I was already thinking about the basement, about him. My wife mumbled something about her coffee as I left, a ghost in my own home. I didn’t even answer.

He was waiting for me today, not on the couch, but standing by the workbench, fully dressed in a crisp shirt and slacks. He looked like he owned the place, and by extension, me.

“Right on time,” he said, his voice smooth. “I like that. Loyalty is an important trait.” He gestured to the spot on the floor in front of him. “You know the position.”

I sank to my knees, the concrete already feeling familiar, almost welcoming. He slowly unbuckled his belt, the sound of the leather sliding through the loops loud in the quiet room. He let his trousers and boxers pool around his ankles.

“Before we begin,” he said, picking up his phone from the workbench, “we’re going to establish some new rules. I’m tired of this just being a morning thing.”

I looked up, confused, but didn’t dare speak.

“From now on, you belong to me,” he continued, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Your mouth is mine to use whenever I want it. Is that clear?”

I nodded, my heart hammering against my ribs.

“Say it,” he commanded, his voice hardening. “Tell me who you belong to.”

“I… I belong to you,” I stammered, the words feeling both terrifying and exhilaratingly right.

“Good boy.” He stepped forward, rubbing the head of his cock against my lips. “Now, open up and show me how grateful you are for the privilege.”

I opened my mouth, and he slid in, deeper this time, setting a punishing rhythm from the very beginning. He held his phone up, the camera’s red light a beacon in the dim light.

“Look at me while you suck my cock,” he ordered. “I want to see those eyes. I want to see you worshiping it.”

I obeyed, my gaze locked on his face, on the cold satisfaction in his eyes. His free hand came down, not to guide my head, but to roughly pinch and twist my nipples through my shirt. I gasped around the thick shaft in my mouth, the sharp pain mingling with the overwhelming pleasure of being used so completely.

“You like that, don’t you?” he grunted, his hips thrusting faster. “You like it when I’m rough with you. You’re nothing but a little pain slut, aren’t you?”

I could only moan in response, my body trembling. I’d never been treated this way, never been spoken to like this. I felt filthy, degraded, and more alive than ever before.

His phone buzzed on the workbench. He glanced over, his rhythm never faltering. He picked it up with his free hand, swiping it open. I could hear the faint sound of a woman’s voice, cheery and oblivious.

“Hey honey, just calling to see if you need anything from the store,” the voice said. It was his wife. She was awake.

I froze, my eyes wide with panic. He just smirked, pressing the phone to his ear.

“No, I’m good, sweetheart,” he said, his voice perfectly normal, even as he continued to slowly fuck my mouth. “Just finishing up a few things in the basement before I head out. Don’t worry about me.”

My mind was reeling. I was on my knees, a married man’s cock in my mouth, while he talked to his wife. The sheer audacity, the raw risk of it, sent a jolt of pure adrenaline through me. I redoubled my efforts, my tongue swirling, my throat relaxing to take him deeper.

“Okay, love you too,” he said into the phone. He hung up and tossed it back on the bench. He looked down at me, his eyes dark with lust. “That was close. Almost got caught with my favorite cocksucker.”

He grabbed my head with both hands now, his thrusts becoming erratic, desperate. “And since you were so good, so quiet for me… I think you’ve earned a reward.”

His control finally broke. He drove his cock deep into my throat one last time, spilling his release with a guttural groan. I swallowed greedily, my own body on the verge of collapse.

He pulled out, leaving me gasping for air. He tucked himself away, adjusting his clothes. He looked down at me, still on my knees, panting, my face a mess of saliva and precum.

“Stand up,” he ordered.

I struggled to my feet, my legs shaking. He reached out, his hand deliberately brushing against the massive bulge in my pants. He cupped it, squeezing firmly, making me cry out.

“You’ve been a very good boy today,” he whispered, his lips close to my ear. “So I’m going to let you come.”

He deftly unzipped my pants, freeing my straining cock. It was rock hard, the tip already leaking. He wrapped his hand around it, his grip firm and possessive.

“But you don’t get to touch yourself,” he continued, his strokes slow and maddening. “This is my cock. And I’ll decide when it gets to come.”

My head fell back, a desperate whine escaping my lips. I’d been on the edge for days, and the feeling of another man’s hand on me, stroking me, owning me, was almost too much to bear.

“Who do you belong to?” he growled, his pace quickening.

“You! I belong to you!” I cried out, my hips bucking uncontrollably.

“Whose mouth is this?”

“Yours! It’s yours!”

“And who do you come for?”

“You! Only for you!”

With a final, brutal twist of his wrist, he sent me over the edge. I cried out, my body convulsing as I came harder than I ever had in my life, spilling all over his hand and my own clothes. The pleasure was so intense it bordered on pain, leaving me weak and trembling in its wake.

He released me, but instead of reaching for a rag, he grabbed the front of my shirt. I watched, mesmerized, as he deliberately and slowly wiped his sticky, cum-covered hand all over the light blue fabric, making sure to smear the pearly white fluid into a very visible, obvious stain right in the center of my chest.

“There,” he said, his voice low and possessive. He looked at his hand, then back at the mess he’d made on my shirt. “Look at that. You came all over yourself like a little puppy.”

I stared down at the stain, my stomach twisting with a new, sharper kind of humiliation. It was one thing to be used in secret, another entirely to wear the evidence.

“Hey,” he said, his tone turning hard as he hooked a finger under my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. “You’re not cleaning that. You’re going to work today just like that.”

A wave of panic washed over me. “But… I can’t. People will see.”

“Good,” he smirked, his eyes glinting with cruel amusement. “I want them to see. I want you to walk into your office, go to your meetings, talk to your boss, all day long with my cum and your cum dried on your shirt. Every time someone looks at you, every time you catch your reflection, I want you to remember who you belong to. I want you to remember what you did this morning. This is your mark. My mark on you.”

He stepped back, admiring his handiwork. “Now get out of here. And be ready for my text later. You might be needed again after work.”

I stumbled out of the basement and into my car, my mind racing. I looked down at the prominent stain on my chest. There was no hiding it. I was going to have to walk into my office like this, a public testament to my private submission. The shame was suffocating, but beneath it, a dark, thrilled heat was already starting to build again. I was his. Completely.

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Nick is the publisher of GoNaked Magazine, a digital monthly publication for male nudists. He is also the CEO of GoNaked Travels, a men-only clothing-optional travel company specializing in bucket-list, upscale travel experiences.

If you would like 3x weekly news about the male nudist community, come join us at https://www.gonakednews.com/ absolutely free.

For fun, he creates a line of adult coloring books featuring zombies, Day of the Dead, and of course, male butts. Available on Amazon.