He didn’t detect every part of my ethnic background but got a lot of it!
“Hey, bud. I’m down with swallowing you. Why don’t you come over, unload and leave?”
That’s the response I got from Jackson*, a 35-year old wolf who was looking for some quick play. He had messaged me on scruff, hoping to score some fun on a Saturday night.
If you’ve ever spent time on the apps, you probably know that trying to hookup can often take hours. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve tapped on one of those things only to watch an entire night vanish because of flakes and players.
And so when Jackson made the invitation to come over, I was game. The truth is, one of my favorite things is to feed a guy something I’ve save up over several days and watch him swallow.
I know that may sound sick but I’m just telling you what I’m into. To each his own, right?
After arriving at his apartment, we made the usual small talk that most guys do before getting down to business. Since our arrangement was pre-arranged, the ground rules were already established: Mutual oral with him draining me out.
Just before we got down to business, Jackson asked me if I was part Native American. The question came as somewhat of a shock. Nobody (ever) had asked me that.
Let me explain why …
Because I have reddish hair and blue eyes, most people guess me as something else – like European. So, when he asked the question, it surprised me.
“Yeah, Ive got some of that in me. I’m part Chickasaw on my mother’s side. How did you know?”
In any event, once the small talk part was over, we started fooling around. The typical stuff – making out, petting and touching.
“Are you part Native American?”
Eventually, our shirts came off and we gradually made our way to his bedroom. Excited, I decided to take the plunge first and work on him as he laid on his bed.
As time went on, our positions flipped. Before long, I found myself laying on my back with my jeans pulled down to my ankles.
“OK, just give me a heads up when you are about to c**,” he said, just before bobbing for apples. “I hate surprises!” he added.
I made a mental note.
As he siphoned me, I could feel the buildup starting to edge closer and closer. Eventually, it got to the point where I knew holding back wasn’t possible.
Per his request, I gave him a verbal warning.
Almost instinctively, he applied a little pressure to his palm as he used it in conjunction with his mouth to extract milk that was bubbling up from deep inside.
Moments later I erupted – so much so that he winced a bit upon the first squirt. While I didn’t see what came out, I knew from experience it was a lot. Don’t hold me to it but I think it had been two weeks since last ejaculating.
Like a pro, guzzled down every last drop. While some guys say they’ll do it, that doesn’t mean they will. Let me tell ya – Jackson was the real deal.
Even better, he knew himself well enough to know how to time his own release to match mine.
Maybe that’s why he wanted to be warned?
In any event, after we both were done, he pointed to his restroom with a smile. The truth is I really didn’t need to wash up but given I still needed to get dressed, I figured why not.
Minutes later, I emerged from his bathroom.
“It was good to meet you man. I hope we can do this again,” he said. We gave each other a quick, after hook-up kiss. You know what those are like – not super passionate but not a peck either.
“Oh, yeah – I forgot. Take this. Don’t open it until you get back home. Send me a message later and let me know if I’m right.”
He handed me a white piece of folded paper.
Apparently while I had been getting dressed, Jackson had jotted down my ethnic breakdown. If truth be told, I thought he had been joking earlier about this ability. Turns out he wasn’t.
On the way back to my apartment, I can remember wanting to look but resisted the urge. Something deep inside told me it wouldn’t be right.
There was a reason he had made the request. I figured, “Why not wait?”
Once I got back home and settled in, I pulled the folded paper from my pocket looked. Here’ is the actual note Jackson gave me, unaltered:
My jaw literally dropped!
While Jackson hadn’t guessed every ethnicity, he got a lot of them! I know this because not long ago, I had my DNA tested through Ancestry DNA.
Here is the report of my ethnic breakdown from the company so that you can see with your own eyes.
No, he didn’t pick up the tiny percentages of Pacific Islander, but he did detect some of the Irish and even African (something I didn’t even know was in me until I took the DNA test).
Immediately, I messaged him on my phone.
“How the f**ck did you do that!?” I asked, still stunned about his apparent abilities.
Jackson explained to me that ever since he had become sexually active, he has had the ability to tell a person’s ethnicity based on swallowing their man juice. He admitted to me that he’s often wrong and that it’s a crapshoot.
“When I’m right, I’m usually spot on. But when I’m wrong, I bomb bigtime.”
I wondered how many others he had guessed. “Could he do this through glory holes?” I thought to myself. Truly, the guy was amazing!
We texted a bit more and he revealed to me that his family is part Romanian. He also shared that he comes from a long line of gypsies.
I’d be lying if I said that I knew what that meant. But the proof was in the pudding. The guy has “the gift”.
Since that first encounter, I’ve been back to Jackson’s place several times. Jokingly, I suggested that we invite a third to see if he could replicate the results.
He said he’s down with it – for real! Now if I can just find a third who wants a simple blow and go, we’re in business.
If it happens guys, I’ll absolutely share with you.
Thanks for reading!
*Name changed at author’s request