This is not another post about nipple play, at least not directly. I've been using, mostly, single initials to refer to the guys I play with, and it's a cumbersome practice. I could add a number to the letter to create unique identifiers, but that, too, would be cumbersome. Besides, given the way first names go, I'd pretty soon get to an R37, which would accentuate my sluttiness (and, for the sake of this sentence, let's pretend I think that would be unfortunate) or a B12, which might create confusion in the defense sector.
Anyway, I'm thinking of keeping initials for guys I hook up with once or twice, but on the third time, the guy deserves a unique identifier. I realize that may be akin to Franck (mmmmmm, Franck) assigning ring tones to his romantic interests; in other words, if I give them their own nickname, I might not fuck them again. But it's a chance I'm willing to take.
Anyway. F. from this post is now Pecs, a moniker he would surely embrace. He is justifiably proud of his prominent, smooth chest and his pert, sensitive nipples. He is not in any way buff, but it's really a nice chest, and he really likes having it played with, albeit at low intensity. When you go from about three to about four on the nipple index, you pretty much always get pulled back. Unless he's about to cum, in which case, you might get to a 4.5. Briefly.
At work today, at 1:00, I got a call from our receptionist asking why I wasn't in the conference room for the ethics training. "I'm signed up for ethics training?" So I spent four hours hearing about things like AICPA Interpretation 101-3 ("Performance of Nonattest Services") and new rules from something called the PCBOA and various other things that were either not applicable to a tax professional or totally lame. (Apparently, we're meant to be ethical. No, really? Who knew?) I spent most of the training with a sinus headache, so by 5:00, I was in a foul mood. I went back to my office and worked desultorily on not much of anything and fired up the old gay.com. I wasn't really expecting to find anything, but before long Pecs was starting a chat with me.
Pecs is an extremely affable guy, but he usually gets right to what he wants, which is always the same thing. I told him I couldn't be at his place before 6:30, but that I'd happily stop by then. I was thinking that since b&c and I almost never have sex on Wednesdays (it is usually a custodial night, but this week is the ex' vacation week with the kids) and since he'd been acting a bit weird (see the end of this entry) this week, he wouldn't be expecting sex. He'd mentioned something about salmon for dinner, and I'd said I wouldn't be home until 7:30. I'd been expecting to work until 7, but, well, plans change.
Anyway, after surviving Bethesda traffic, I got to Pecs' place just a couple of minutes late. He opened the front door before I rang the bell, said hello, and I grabbed him. Since he truly is the affable sort, he was asking me about how I was as I began to molest him, but I soon focused his attention elsewhere. Besides, I'm in my early forties: nothing all that interesting happens to me for months at a time. I mentioned that b&c and I were planning a vacation to Italy in October, and then I asked if I could use his bathroom for a minute.
When I got out, he was sitting on the bed and started back in with the "how are you doing?" crap. And you know what? How I was doing was horny. So I jumped him again and got him back in a lip lock. Again, I'm happy to make conversation, but can't we just have the sex first? Priorities, people!
Anyway, the last time Pecs and I had hooked up, the action was somewhat perfunctory and unsatisfying, but he was back to his old self last night. Maybe better. He was just warmer and more into extended kissing. And extended nipple play. I had him on his back with his polo up around his shoulders and went back and forth between his very soft lips and his nipples. I know he's not into the intense nipple workout, so I went with the lip-suck,tongue-flick maneuver, and it produced the desired results.
Neither of us seemed in any hurry to get fully naked (polo shorts and underwear for each of us), and I mostly kept him on his back with the same two activities for the next half hour. I did throw in some lightly running my fingers along his legs and over his testicles, and that was also a big hit.
When we finally got naked, he started to play with himself while I worked on his nipples, and since that usually leads to a quick orgasm for Pecs, I grabbed his hands and held them over his head. He's never struck me as particularly submissive, but he really liked that, so I got on top of him and pinned him down. Then I shoved my cock between his legs and thrust while I kept on working on his nipples.
Pecs always claims that he wants me to fuck him someday, but he really doesn't. Or at least, he doesn't want to be penetrated. He loved feeling my cock go between his thighs and close to his ass, but he didn't want me inside him. I was pretty turned on, and I wasn't ever going to cum that way, so it was a good thing for me to keep doing for a while.
But eventually, I got off him and lay on my side next to him. I kept working his nipple with my tongue while he jerked himself off. As usual, it didn't take long for him to cum. He shot a much larger load than he normally does, however. While he wiped up, I turned on my back, and once he was done with the towel, I put my left arm around him, and we made out while I stroked myself with my right hand. I'm never very fast, but I was more worked up than I'd been in a while, so it only took me a couple more minutes to finish up.
Lately, I've been working on my distance when I bring myself off. When I was (four or five years) younger, I used to shoot a really long way without any special technique, but lately, I've only been shooting up to my chest, and only when I'm very excited. Something Steve wrote a while back, though, reminded me that physics does play a role, so I've started squeezing harder and shooting up to my face or beyond. I was going to do that with Pecs, but I figured that he was the sort who wouldn't take kindly (though he'd never complain audibly) to semen on his pillows, so I pointed my cock more or less straight up and didn't squeeze hard. I still ended up with impressive height and volume, but my abdomen caught the whole load. Go me.
We chatted for a few minutes about Italy and stuff generally. (I think his partner must be out of town.) He said something about not having seen me in a long time, but I checked the archives, and it's only been six or seven weeks, and he and I regularly go at least that many months without playing, so I think maybe he was just lonely. Or something. Anyway, I got dressed, thanked him, hugged him, kissed him goodbye and drove home.
I got home just after 7:30, and I was surprised to see nothing working in the kitchen. I called "hello," and from b&c's response, I knew he was napping in the bedroom, which normally means that he wants to be fucked. Oops. I was kind of spent, and, in any case, my sinus headache was back with a vengeance, in spite of the Afrin. I got my laundry together and went upstairs, and we lay next to each other and chatted, and I kept thinking "WTF?"
Tuesday night, I'd come home all horned up to also find him napping in the bedroom, and I'd showered and come out and started making out with him. We often make out for half an hour or so, and we did that Tuesday, and then (we're kind of predictable), he went down on me for a while. But then (WTF?) he started to kiss me again and jerk me off. I sometimes tell b&c I'm ready to fuck him, but usually I wait for him to get the lube, but it soon became clear he wasn't going to go for the lube but just keep playing with me. I asked him if he was okay, and he said that he was fine, so I maneuvered us around on the bed so that I could jerk myself off while we made out some more. It was weird, but it was fine.
So we're lying there chatting on Wednesday night, and I remember that he's been to the urologist and ask him how everything was, and he tells me that his PSA is back down to 2.2 or 1.8 or something low like that. And then I remember that a few months back, his PSA was up over 4 and his urologist (I don't even have a urologist; is that weird?) was worried. Then b&c had done some research and had found out that any sort of prostate stimulation can falsely elevate PSA levels. And, sure enough, the night before his last PSA, I'd fucked him. So he didn't want to be fucked on Tuesday night, and he must have thought I knew why, and I'd forgotten why, but now the riddle was solved.
There's a lesson about your health and communication with your partner here, but I'll leave you to work it out for yourselves.