For the record, you wouldn't see the guy above in Italy. The Italians do not wear flip flops on the street. If you're in Italy, and you see a guy in flip flops, he's an American. The same is true of anyone wearing his jeans halfway down his ass so that several inches of his boxers show: it's a look the Italians just don't get. I did see one Italian in shorts and flip flops when I was in Rome, but it was before 7 in the morning, and he was out letting his dog relieve itself. I'm sure that he'd have been mortified if any of his friends had seen him.
Anyway, I'm aware that a disproportionate percentage of my referrals come from sites that list me as NSFW/pornography. I'm further aware that those treasured readers who actually enjoy my spouting also enjoy pictures of naked men and narratives of my sexual activities. So let's do that. I am, after all, extremely pro-porn. Back to Italy another day.
I'm reaching back a few years for this story. I've been thinking about it recently for reasons that I'll explain later.
I was hanging out on gay.com one day, maybe five or six years ago, and I got a message from a married guy who was looking to play with a top. He said he was mostly a terrific cocksucker, but that he had a very tight ass and was willing to do just about anything safe. There was no picture: he said he needed to be discreet. He was house sitting for his boss, and where he wanted to meet was not too far away, so I decided to drive over.
He wasn't there. I waited for ten minutes, got pissed off and left. But then I needed a soda, and the place was a gas station, so I headed back, and he was there, apologizing profusely and asking me if I wanted to head back to where he was staying. He looked great: late thirties, tall, blond, smooth, goateed, and eager. I got in the car and followed him to a big house on a couple of acres of land. I followed him inside, and when he turned around to tell me that we could go upstairs, I pushed him against the wall and started to kiss him and tug on his nipples. One of them was pierced.
He seemed to lose his train of thought then, and maybe all knowledge of who and where he was, so when we'd kissed for a few minutes, I said, "Upstairs?" and he nodded. I followed him up, squeezing his ass through his jeans. I know I say I do that with a lot of guys, but that's just because it's so damned fun. And they always seem to respond as if no one's ever done it before. I don't really get how any top can resist an ass that's been offered to them, but maybe they're too busy checking their own hair or something. Whatever.
When we got to the (very large) bedroom, I shoved him down on the (very large) bed and went to work on him. I got on top of him and resumed making out. Great lips, great technique, immense eagerness. As hard as it was to stop kissing him, I felt the need to suck his nipples through his t-shirt, and I was rewarded with prolonged moaning, especially as I concentrated on the pierced one. He seemed to have pretty good tolerance. Later I learned that there'd been pain as well as pleasure for him but that he really didn't know how to say "no." Or even "easy!"
He did know how to beg, though, and he started asking to suck my cock. I pulled his t-shirt up to allow me unobstructed access to his nips, and worked them a little harder. That made him inarticulate for a while, but before long, he was asking again to suck my cock. I pulled his t-shirt over his head, but left his arms tangled up in it and held his wrists down and kissed him long and deep. Then I figured I should give him what he wanted, so I got rid of my slacks and briefs and straddled his chest.
I teased him for a while, pushing my cock up to his lips and letting him just lick the tip before pulling it away. He strained to bring his head forward, and I rose on my knees and pushed into him. He really was a champ cocksucker. He took it well even from that awkward angle and even when I started to fuck his face.
Fucking face is fun, of course, but this guy had a great body and a great attitude, and I wanted to explore both. I pulled the shirt all the way off him, held his wrists down with my hands, and began to kiss him again. He still had his jeans on, and when I rubbed my cock against them, I could feel that they were wet with precum but that he wasn't hard. I unzipped them and pulled his cock out. I remarked that it looked like it would be pretty big if hard. He told me that it was a full eight inches when hard but that he was nervous. I told him that it really wasn't that big a deal to me if he didn't get an erection and that I was turned on by the heavy precum. Then I zipped him back into the jeans and we made out and I twisted his nips for a while longer.
When his jeans were good and soaked, I pulled them off, wadded them up, and pushed them into his face. Then I moved down, pushed his legs forward and began to eat his very smooth, very clean ass. Lots more moaning, lots more precum. It was an especially nice ass, so I rolled him on to his stomach, spread his cheeks with my hands, and really dove in. Every so often, I'd ease off with my tongue so that I could bite right near his asshole where the backs of his thighs met his cheeks. He was golden all over, without tan lines, and he just really turned me on.
After a while, I lay back and let him give me some prolonged head. I bent my knees and closed my eyes, and he swallowed my whole cock, gluttonously. I'm not sure how long that went on, but I think we were about an hour into the whole session when I tugged him around so that I could eat his ass some more while he went on with my cock. I wouldn't have thought he could get any more greedy with my cock, but when I shoved my tongue in his ass, it was like I'd hit a switch, and he redoubled his efforts.
It was all great, especially when I could keep eating his ass and slide my hands between us so that I could pull down hard on his nipples. After a while, though, I was eager to fuck him. I'm generally more willing than eager to plow a bottom, but he had me more worked up than usual. I told him to put a condom on me, and he did. He asked me to go easy at first because he hadn't been fucked all that much, and he was afraid he might be too tight for me.
I'm sure he was being honest about not having been fucked much, but the fact was that his hole naturally was tight enough to be fun but not even close to being too tight to get into. Once he was lubed up, it just wasn't that hard to get into him, and it didn't seem like he had that much trouble taking it, though, again, it wasn't in his nature to complain.
It was a pretty good fuck, though not nearly so much fun as the rest of it. We started face to face, with his legs pulled up, and we worked our way through the usual positions: him on his side with me straddling his leg, him on his back on the side of the bed with me standing up, him on his stomach with me lying on top of him. I knew I wasn't going to cum that way, though, so after a while, I got rid of the condom and laid him on his back with his head hanging over the edge of the bed. Then I stood up, grabbed his nipples, and started to fuck his face. It was great, and he swallowed.
We'd been at it for two hours, so we both showered and dressed. We chatted for a while. He was married and had three kids. He really liked men, but he didn't know what to do about it. We exchanged email addresses, and I didn't expect to ever hear from him again, but it was an amazing session, and I definitely called my friends to brag about it.
I did email him a couple of months later. He wrote back to say that he'd been caught playing by his wife who had then outed him at work, so that he lost his job. He'd taken something in retail management, at less than half his old salary, and he'd moved in with roommates. His kids were mad at him, and he was so depressed that he sometimes started crying in the middle of a hookup.
I told him that I'd been through most of the same things and expressed some sympathy, and he thanked me. Not long afterwards, I saw him on gay.com, and we chatted for a long while, and he thanked me again. Every six months or a year or so, I'd see him or email him, and he'd write back. He'd moved from Maryland to Virginia, and he was interested in hooking up again, but he was too far away, and we both had complications. He had a boyfriend who he didn't get to see enough as it was, and I'd started seeing b&c. But it was always good to chat with him, and he often expressed regret that things hadn't settled so that the two of us could be friends easily. Or at least fuck occasionally.
A month or so ago, when I'd gotten back from taking EFU to college, I thought of him for the first time in a long time and remembered that he had kids who were about the same age as mine. I emailed him, but the message came back as undeliverable. He'd abandoned the address. I checked his gay.com profile, and he hadn't logged in in over a year.
Obviously, we didn't know each other well, but we had a great time, and it was the sort of encounter that taught me to be thankful for the really great times you have rather than annoyed because you don't get to do it again. I think about it rarely, but when I do, it still sticks out as one of my favorite sessions. I hope that he's okay, wherever he is.
No comments:
Post a Comment