My buddy C., who lives in the neighborhood, and I had tickets to see a farce (13 Rue de l'Amour at the Olney Theatre. It was fun, and a cute actor shows his ass just before intermission.) Friday night. The tickets were for 8, and the theatre's about ten minutes away, so I'd invited C. for a drink at 6:45, figuring that since he's also a top, forty-five minutes would be plenty of time for us to go at it. Don't get me wrong: I love to fuck (or at least I love the way bottoms react when I fuck them, which is close enough), but it involves a lot of extra time, not to mention lube, latex, and laundry. When you get to the end of a long week, sometimes a quick, pre-theatre romp is just the ticket. I figured C. would be on the same page, even though the last two times he and I played had both involved third parties. I'd kind of like to avoid the situation where providing a mutually acceptable bottom becomes a minimum requirement for polite hosting.
Anyway, when he got there, I opened the door, he stepped inside, I grabbed him, and we made out for a minute. My belief is that we'd all be happier people if this became a standard way of greeting one's friends, but I can see that there are certain kinks that need to be ironed out of the system before I roll it out on a larger scale. I offered him a martini, and he said that he'd had a couple of drinks at the office that afternoon, so he'd like a short one. I poured two, and we sat down in the living room with some nibbles (oh get your minds out of the gutter: olives, smoked almonds, and some Havarti with dill) and chatted a bit. I was kneading his shoulders, and he was telling me about his vacation plans. In August, he and a good friend are staying at a clothing-optional bed and breakfast in Key West. I said that I hoped it was a friend with privileges, and he said that they didn't have sex because he was afraid the other guy would want a more serious relationship if they did. I told him that he just needed to have a mature conversation with his friend. He agreed and said that he probably just needed to lighten up.
I assumed that was my cue, so I jumped him again. C.'s always a fun guy and a terrific kisser, but he's usually a bit on the sedate side. Clearly, however, enough gin makes a big difference because he was on fire Friday. I had him upstairs and out of his clothes in a couple of minutes, and we were soon thrashing around on the bed. It was like somebody else had shown up in his place.
We didn't do anything unusual, though. It was all about intense making out with some thorough nipple play and some nice mutual oral. I think maybe I'm getting better at giving blowjobs. I didn't make him shoot that way or anything, but in the past, I've always said that I'm the world's worst cocksucker. In the last couple of weeks, however, I've decided that I'm probably better than, say, a handful of midwestern Methodist ministers' wives. Anyway, C. seemed to enjoy it.
As it will do, time flew, and we did have an 8:00 curtain, after all, so after the expected forty-five minutes of high-energy hijinx, we both finished off by hand. I really love that moment when you're lying with a guy and you're making out while you each jerk yourself off, and the shouts and moans of an impending orgasm are muffled by the mouth-to-mouth. Two impressive cum shots and a quick clean up later, we were off to the theatre, very relaxed.
3 years ago