Even though a long while ago I managed with great difficulty to curb my one-time addiction to swallowing spunk from used and discarded dong bags, this picture still today makes my mouth water. Those were times when I just couldn't get enough cum into me. Sucking off guys (nearly always strangers) was fuckin' great but it wasn't sufficient to satisfy my craving - and sometimes finding these nectar-filled little rubber bags in parks which had been 'busy' during a previous warm Summer night was easier than finding a guy willing or, better, eager to let me suck him off. Yet it still wasn't enough. I wanted and needed more and more! It was a matter of survival! I loved the taste - which varied from load to load, sometimes bitter, sometimes tasteless (like my own spunk) and sometimes, though more rarely, almost sweet. How I never caught anything nasty to get sick, maybe even seriously, must be a miracle, but my need was so great that I didn't give it much thought. Eventually, circumstances of having to change location helped me curb my craving - my main cruising ground having been a park some miles distant from my then home, now much less accessible, and my good sense absolutely forbidding me from trying the same ploy in the area I now lived.
Incidentally, there were at least a couple of occasions on these forays to this town where I wasn't known, that between exploring parks and, public shithouses, I'd go drinking in pubs and sometimes get myself so pissed on beers that I'd come out taking risks, like parading myself in front of young men I fancied in pairs or small groups, me walking ahead of them with one or two found used rubbers hanging conspicuously out of a back pocket of the army surplus shorts I always wore for these adventures - rather in the manner of how professional golfers always seem to have a pair of white gloves depending from a pants back pocket, so casual, so nonchalant, so super-cool! The practice was rather risky for me and nearly always gave rise to high hilarity behind me from my targetted 'victims, as I'd intended it should. Once or twice the laughs turned threateningly aggressive, particularly from gangs of youths, but in my semi-zonked state it didn't worry me too much then. I so very much liked the buzz of having my pretended unintentional antics being noticed and commented on.
That was all decades ago, and I yet have pangs of wishing I could return to those days of that particular 'fun', though now I'm much older and the consequent risks could be even more serious than it was then.
Anyway, my lust for gulping down cum - the fresher and whiter the better - and when it was still as warm in the discarded sheath as when spurted straight out of a stiff cock, that was the ultimate find, though very rare as you might imagine.
