A Narrow Escape

A close call, readers.

As you know, a couple of weeks ago, I decided never to have sex again. B&c is mostly okay with this decision because I haven't told him about it. He likes getting fucked in the morning best anyway, and since pre-first cup of coffee fucks* and evening blowjobs* (and anything that happens in Rehoboth*) don't count, the only difficulty comes in dealing with men other than b&c. Careful readers of the blog may have picked up on the fact that the class of men-who-are-not-my-partner-but-whom-I-nonetheless-have-carnal-relations-with is, well, let's just say that it's not quite the null set and leave it at that, shall we?



So there's this guy. We'll call him WM. WM is either a massive tease or conflicted and insecure. Take your pick, they're functionally equivalent. I first ran into him on gay.com, where he initiated a private conversation and said that he wanted me to fuck him and then promptly disappeared. (He's the guy I mention in the first paragraph of this post.) Well, fast forward a month and a half later, and something similar has happened maybe six or eight more times. He says hello, he says he wants to fuck, and then the excuses start: oh, I thought you could come right now instead of in half an hour and I have to go out; my poppers are too old, and I won't be able to take your thick cock without them; I just washed the sheets, so can we do it on the floor (no, thanks); and any number of others. At first I'd get annoyed, but then I just got bored and played along. Playing along violates one of my primary rules: ignore guys who flake on you before you've met them. But I'm kind of hypocritical about following the rules sometime, and while I usually end up regretting it, there are exceptions. Besides, I'd gotten better about dealing with him so that instead of flaking on me after half an hour of chatting, he'd flake on me after five minutes of chatting, and it'd be done with.

Also, I had the feeling that this guy had some issues that might be ameliorated through the passage of time. He'd apologize about dicking me around and say that he was shy and scared to meet guys off the Internet (no picture, so that made sense), but then he'd do the same thing.

Anyway, yesterday afternoon, I'd come home from the firm picnic tired and sweaty (over 90 degrees and they want me to play kickball?), and I wasn't in a mood for it, so when he started in and then said, "Oh, I thought you were at work, I guess we don't have time," I told him I was done bothering with him and put him on ignore. I took care of some chores, talked to EFU about her plans for the evening (both girls are with me this weekend but had activities going on until late), took a shower, and cooled down some. I figured WM wouldn't bother me any more, so I removed the ignore, and there he was, apparently repentant. He asked for my phone number, called me, and gave me his address.



I hopped in the car and headed down Connecticut Ave. He called again when I was just inside the beltway to make sure I was coming. Like I'm the one who blew him off eight times or something: I have no idea. I told him I was and that I'd call him when I was parking. I found a parking space right outside his apartment building, rang him, and headed up the elevator.

WM was supposed to be lying on the bed, naked, but when I opened the door, he was standing right next to it, in his tighty whities. He was just as he'd described himself: 35 (looked more like 30, but why would you lie in that direction?), 5'9, 150, smooth. Since he was standing there, I grabbed him, and we started to make out. He was pretty good at it, so we did that for a couple of minutes before we headed to the bed.

He'd said that he likes tops who take charge, so I pulled off his briefs and pushed him down on the bed. I climbed atop him and started kissing him again. He was fresh from the shower and his hair was still a little wet, so I ran my hands through it while I sucked on his lower lip and then went for the nipples. As promised, he was a moaner. Not a loud moaner, but the sort of moaner that packs a lot of excitement into a moderate amount of volume. I think it was the accompanying writhing. Anyway, I spent a while going between the nips and the lips and then I took advantage of the recent shower to eat his pits for a while. He loved that, and so did I. I love eating pits, generally, but I'm not fond of it when they're either smelly or covered in deodorant, so I took advantage of my rare luck.



As reactive as he'd been to my tongue in his mouth, on his nipples, and in his armpits, he went up an order of magnitude when I rolled him onto his stomach and started to eat his ass. More writhing, louder moaning. Fun, fun, fun, fun, fun.

As so often happens, I couldn't decide what I liked most, so I moved him back and forth: sometimes rimming, sometimes making out, sometimes working on the nipples. Eventually he was playing with and sucking (only a little, but it was okay) my cock while I started to finger him. He'd worried about being too tight, but he seemed just tight enough to me, and I didn't have much trouble getting a thumb or two fingers into him. I was going to work my way up to four with some lube, but at some point he was straddling me and we were kissing, and I was rubbing the length of my cock along his hole, and he decided just to sit on it. And, really, he didn't seem to have much trouble taking it.

I pulled his shoulders down, kissed him, and said, "Condom. And maybe some lube." He got off me and reached for the supplies, which were sitting out on the bedside table, and gloved me up. He went a little overboard with the lube, but whatever. Then he sat back down.

The boy does love to get fucked. He was on his knees at first, then I pulled his feet out from under him so that I'd go deeper, and then I grabbed his hands, sat up, lowered him backwards, and then lay back down to get us into X position. I alternately grabbed his thighs and his hands and we bumped and grinded for a while like that. Plenty more moaning.

After a while, I pushed his legs forward and got up on his knees. My cock popped out and some santorum got on the sheets. I reckon he doesn't go in for deep cleaning. If I'd encountered that when I was eating his ass or when he first sat on my cock and took me in about an inch, I might have been freaked out a little, but once I'm fucking, I'm really not very easily made squeamish, and I guess I'm just glad he was so thorough with the shallow cleaning. I don't really get the whole anal hygiene thing anyway, since I never have to do it. Hey, do I know how to ruin a good story or what? Maybe you shouldn't have read this paragraph. Sorry.

Anyway, I pushed his knees up to his chest and re-entered. His head was hanging over the foot of the bed, and I started to pound him pretty hard. He was flexible enough and of just the right size for me to kiss him while I pounded him, and that was very hot, indeed. After having to readjust a couple of times when he almost fell off the end of the bed, I pushed him on his stomach, rolled him on his side, bent one of his legs up, straddled the other, and started in again.

We'd fucked in that position a few minutes when I felt like taking a break. Then he told me that he didn't think he could take any more, and I was in the usual quandary: is the sub (semi-sub in this case) saying that because he means it or is he saying that because he thinks it's hot when you impose your will on him. I figured it was the latter, so after some making out, I had him straddle me again, and I told him to be a good boy and sit on my cock, and he did.

We'd been going at it for longer than I thought I'd be there. I hadn't expected him to be such a good kisser or to get so into everything I was doing. And I was running short on time before I'd have to go back north and pick up YFU, so the next time he said he couldn't take any more, I laid him next to me, put one arm around his shoulders, kissed him, and started jerking him off. He was making a lot of noise, and it was pretty hot. He stopped me just before he would have shot, and I kissed him some more.

When I started to jerk myself off, he got up on his knees and played with both our cocks. I pulled him down, put him on his side, put my arm around him and went back to kissing him while I stroked myself. When I came, the cum flew up over him and hit the back of his shoulder, and he came.

We actually cuddled for, like, ninety whole seconds afterwards before he jumped up to grab a towel. I noticed that he had a Christmas tree up and decorated and I asked him whether it was early for this year or late for last year. He said he really likes Christmas, and that it was early for this year.

As I was leaving, I thought I detected some post-coital buyer's remorse on his part, but I really don't care that much. He was a ton of fun, but he wasn't worth being flaked on six or eight times. I reckon if he decides he wants to hook up again, he'd start being worth it, but I never count on that sort of thing, and I'm certainly not going to initiate any contact. On the other hand, if he asks me over again, maybe I'll give him a fitted sheet for his bed so that he can have sex twice without having to wash the sheets. It must be hell not to have your own washer and dryer, and if he doesn't like it, he can always wrap it and put it under the tree.

I didn't bother telling WM, but even though we fucked long and hard, what really happened was that I went over and we both jerked off, with some very heavy and extensive foreplay. Jerking off clearly doesn't count*, so the streak is alive and well.

*(I realize that there are some people who might suggest that I have merely managed to define all sexual activity as non-sexual activity for cheap rhetorical purposes. These are people without subtle minds, and I'm sure that description can't possibly apply to any of my extremely enlightened readers.)