He grabs the bottle and inhales deeply.
“For the next phase, I’d like you to continue stimulating your nipples with one hand,” I say. “With the other hand, I’m going to ask you to examine your groinal region. I’d like you to tell me if you notice any changes.”
“Yes. Any changes, like increased warmth or, uh, anything else.”
He continues fingering his nipple with one hand, then abruptly shoves the other into his briefs.
“Do you notice any . . . changes?”
“Yes,” he says. “It’s strange.”
“Hmm,” I say. “We’ve also noticed in certain subjects that the drug can cause unexpected sexual arousal. May I ask you to remove your briefs?”
“You want me to get totally naked?”
“It’s just that I need to observe you — completely — for my research.”
“Well, maybe you should get naked too,” he says.
“Okay,” I say. “But if they call you for follow up questions, you can’t tell them about this, otherwise I could get fired.”
I stand, remove my tie, and unbutton my shirt. I release my belt, drop my pants to the floor and step out of them. I slide my shirt off my shoulders, and then sit back on the couch in my underwear.
“But you’re supposed to take everything off,” he says, slightly exasperated.
“I don’t know sir,” I say. “I’m a bit shy.”
“We’ll why don’t you take some of the drug,” he says.
I oblige him, holding the bottle to my nose and inhaling deeply.
“And how do you feel now?” he says, leaning in closer and running his hand up my thigh.
The drug is affecting me very strangely, sir. I’m not sure what’s happening. But I feel like I want to — ”
“You want to what?”
“I want to suck your cock sir.”
“You don’t want me to suck you?” he says, slightly annoyed.
“I do sir, but maybe if I could suck you first that would be better.”
“Alright,” he says with slightly sulky tone, then leans back on the couch.
I sit up and crawl towards him, with my head aiming for his crotch. I pull his cock out of his underwear and wrap my lips around it. It’s small but rock hard. As I’m bobbing up and down on him he begins grabbing at my underwear.
“Take these off too,” he says, totally breaking character.
“Yes sir,” I mumble, my mouth full of cock, as I use one hand to pull my underwear down to my knees. He reaches between my legs, grabbing at my dick, which is still totally limp. I push his hand out of the way.
“Just give me a minute,” I say, as I begin stroking myself, my mind flipping through my sexual Rolodex, trying to get hard.
After a few minutes of jerking myself off, I’ve achieved a moderate erection and I fall back onto the couch.
“Now sir, why don’t you take a little more of the drug and then tell me how it affects you,” I say.
He talks another inhale from the bottle and then leans over, taking my cock in his mouth. He starts sucking me enthusiastically while I try my best to stay hard. Then, unexpectedly, he releases my cock and climbs on top of me, bringing his lips to mine. He kisses like a walrus, aggressively, panting and snorting, sucking on my mouth like he’s trying to eat it.
I’m not opposed to kissing, but we hadn’t discussed it at all, so I’m surprised. There hadn’t been any mention of kissing or any other sexual activity, besides him sucking me off.
He’s laid out the whole fantasy in advance in very precise detail. It’s supposed to me coercing him into sucking my dick by feeding him poppers, under the guise of the whole thing being some sort of door-to-door science experiment.
“I really like you,” he suddenly blurts out, he face buried in my neck. “You’re so sweet.”
This is going somewhere unexpected. Do I just go with it or do I try to follow through with the original storyline?
“I see, sir,” I say. “It seems like the drug has caused you to have certain feelings towards me?”
“Yeah,” he says, in a way that makes it clear he’s no longer playing along. “Let’s go to the bedroom.”
He stands abruptly and walks out of the living room. I follow him down a hallway, past a shelf with ceramic dog figurines that are also wearing tiny green hats. His bedroom is small, dominated almost entirely by a king-size bed with barely enough space to walk around it. Like the rest of the apartment, the sheets are a seasonal shade of emerald green. Every available inch of wall space is covered by different types of masks, organized in a grid. There are close to 200.
He pushes me down on the bed and climbs on top of me, continuing to kiss my body all over, with the same sucking sounds as before. He finally comes back down to rest on my cock and starts sucking me again.
“I wanna make you come baby,” he says.
So we’re just totally dropping the roleplay façade. Okay. Fine. Go with it.
“Oh yeah, make me come,” I moan, staring up at the masks.
It’s an odd experience, having 200 pairs of empty eyes staring at you while you’re trying to get off. More than anything, it makes me wonder about who this guy sucking my dick really is. Who wants to be greeted every morning by this strange collection of faces glaring at you?
My failure to focus had caused my dick to go totally limp again and no amount of work on his part is going to bring it back to vertical. So I gently push him off me and onto his back and begin sucking him again while I jerk my own cock with my other hand. Once I’m hard, I straddle his body, opening my legs as wide as I can to accommodate his girth.
“Oh you make me wanna come baby,” I say. “Can I come on you?”
“In my mouth,” he moans.
I manoeuvre myself further up his body until I’m in front of his face, jerking my cock with one hand, while placing the other on the headboard to steady myself. Directly in front of me there’s a large wooden mask with splotches of red and black paint on it. Did he actually buy it while he was travelling somewhere, I wonder? Or is it just a knock off that he found at a flea market?
I stare into the round, red eyes of the mask. It stares back, silently, offering no further clues about my host or his strange affinity for compulsive collecting.
“I want your cum in my mouth baby,” he moans again.
I close my eyes, start stroking myself harder, and finally shoot into his mouth. Opening my eyes, I turn around to reach for his cock, but realize he’s already come. I run my fingers down his cheek and give him a little smile before excusing myself to the washroom.
Unsurprisingly, there’s a seasonally-appropriate selection of shamrock-embossed towels and ornamental soaps. There’s a shower in the corner and a separate bathtub, which I’m assuming he rarely uses, as it’s almost completely covered with rubber ducks of various sizes and colours, each of which also sports a tiny green hat.
I quickly wash my dick in the sink and dry it with one of the green towels before heading back to the living room. He’s standing, waiting for me in his bathrobe, with a wad of cash in his hand.
“Thanks,” he says, before awkwardly handing it to me, looking slightly irritated. Normally after roleplay, I do a check-in to see whether the person is okay or if they need to debrief. But I can tell he doesn’t want to talk. He doesn’t seem to want anything other than to get me out of his apartment.
Maybe that shouldn’t be a surprise; if his whole fantasy is about being forced into gay sex through the use of a special “drug,” whatever affection he felt for me is going to dissipate rapidly after he’s had his orgasm. I dress silently, and grab my clipboard from the table where I left it.
He sees me to the door and says a curt goodbye before closing it behind me.
I catch the elevator downstairs and step out into the slushy afternoon to start my journey back to the metro.