LUST
Sometimes you're the luster, and sometimes you're the lustee. The two stories below give an example of each.
I. The Trouble With Harry
I call him Hairy Harry. Harry turned me on--I can't analyze it. He was a little taller than I, a little younger, black hair thinning and turning grey. He had a beautiful muscular body, the kind they call a swimmer's build', but with a bit more definition and a bit more meat. I call him hairy', but he really wasn't too hairy, just enough to accentuate the sculpture of his chest, the bulge of his calves, the swell of his arms. Very nice face--not GQ quality, but I loved looking at it. And a heavy growth of stubble, which I really like in a man.
I loved watching him on the gym floor, then I met him in the steam room and swooned. I got that feeling in my stomach that I wanted this guy seven different ways. He was sprawled back sort of provocatively, no towel, a thick cock, on the short side, lying seductively against his thigh. He looked at me.
He looked at me! This guy wants to play. He nodded, and just a trace of a smile passed over his face. Contact! I was instantly hard. I walked over to him and fondled his cock. He got aroused. I dropped down and swallowed him. He wasn't that long. His hard cock grazed the back of my throat, but that's all. I didn't have to strain to take him. He was thick, but not too thick. The perfect size for me.
He was a talker: "Yeah, take that big dick. Suck that big dick." I felt great--I was pleasing him. He'll go the next step with me. But he didn't. He did not want to reciprocate. OK. I'm getting enough out of this.
The pressure in the steam room changes, the door opens, and another guy walks in. This guy is younger, in his 40's. Nice body, but not particularly better than mine. Just younger. I imagine him as of East European descent, so I'll call him Slovak. (I have no idea really. He had no accent.) I had gotten off Harry when the door opened, but Harry still didn't put on a towel, a signal to Slovak.
Slovak reads the signal. Despite my presence, he fondles himself. I grope myself, Harry gave himself a pump, and then we all knew what we were there for. Slovak reaches for Harry as I watch. Harry clearly prefers him, but maybe we will all join in. Slovak jerks Harry's cock, then goes down on him. Harry starts vocalizing again, "Suck that cock. Oh, that feels great. Take it down your throat." The usual inspired porno dialogue, but it turns me on. Somehow, everything Harry does turns me on.
Slovak really likes Harry's cock. He's pumping himself, he's bobbing up and down. I'm wondering what's in it for me, but meanwhile am fascinated at the sight. Harry is thrusting his hips up into Slovak's face, and continues his poetic outbursts. "Suck it. Let's see you suck it. Yeah, suck that big dick." I am totally turned on, and jerking myself like mad.
There's a noise outside, in the showers, and Slovak goes over to look out the door. Nothing. He lingers by the door, and I go over to Harry, tentatively holding his cock. Harry gestures to me, "no". He's gentle about it, but he wants Slovak, not me. I must remain watching, lust-crazed.
The danger past, Slovak goes back down on Harry, and I resume my role as audience. Harry is looking at me and reciting his inspired lines. Slovak has no idea what I'm doing there. Neither do I, but I can't take my eyes of Harry. Pure lust. Boy, does he get me hot!
Then someone really does come in, someone not interested in playing. The three of us sit around. Planning the next move, I get up and go into the sauna, hoping Slovak will follow and bring Harry, who has touched me in places I haven't been touched in a while.
And this is just what happens. Slovak comes into the sauna, then Harry. Harry sits on the upper bench in his usual provocative pose. He spreads his sexy arms out, and his hot legs. His cock is driving me crazy, thick but not as hard as before. Slovak goes down on him. Slovak is hard, Harry is hard, and I'm at once in heaven and in hell--watching but not touching.
Slovak hears another noise, and backs off. Harry says, "Don't worry, he'll warn us." He means me. So he knows I'm there, maybe even gets off on my watching. Slovak feels more secure, and goes back down on Harry.
Then Harry stands up--I didn't expect this--and faces Slovak. He opens his mouth and sticks out his broad, sensual tongue. He wants to suck on Slovak. And he does. Slovak has a longer cock, nicely formed. But it is Harry that turns me on--his every movement. Sitting down, lifting weights, getting sucked, sucking Slovak--everything. I am overcome with lust.
Harry on the bench, Slovak is pumping in and out of his mouth. Both are enjoying this. Harry looks at me conspiratorially, as if to say, "See what a sexy guy this Slovak is?" It's the conspiratorial twinkle in his eye that gets to me. He wants to include me, on some level.
Slovak pulls out of Harry. He's going to cum. His breath comes faster and he pumps himself. Harry goes into poet mode: "Yeah. Shoot it. Pump that hard cock." Slovak starts pumping out. He's got a huge load, and it comes out in a stream, like white piss. Then another stream. Much more than a gob or a drip. Harry is impressed, and tells me so: "Wow! What a load. Isn't that a great load?" I nod, glad at having been involved, even just on this level.
Slovak leaves the sauna. I stay, to see what will happen. Harry hasn't cum yet. In fact, he's no longer hard. I look at him, hoping for some invitation. But none is forthcoming. He nods again at me, then leaves the sauna.
That evening, I had a 150 mile drive, alone in the car. The weather was miserable, slush and snow and ice, and the drive took about 5 hours, maybe more. But Harry was with me all the way. I imagined sucking his short thick cock, working a finger in his ass, pinching and sucking on his hairy nipples. I imagined him going down on me, massaging my chest, squeezing my ass. And I kept thinking: "He let me go down on him. He shared with me his enjoyment of Slovak." And those few moments before Slovak came in kept me warm and happy during the drive.
The trouble with Harry was that he was scarce. Not one of the usual guys at the gym. So I felt lucky when I saw the object of my lust on the floor, luckier in the locker room, and luckiest in the steam room or sauna.
Sometimes, if I'm tired, I go into the sauna before I work out. A nice sweat, then a nice cold shower, washes the fatigue out of my body. One morning, I walked into the sauna, and there was Harry. Wow! My lucky day! He smiled at me, recognizing me. And we started talking: How you doing? OK, yourself? Chit chat.
He had not undressed. I remarked on his outfit, which looked like a jogger's. He said he didn't like jogging. I replied that I didn't either. He was going up on the floor to work out. Me, too.
So he said, "I'll see you later." But he emphasized the `you', and looked at me in a meaningful way. I couldn't wait.
I worked out, did my cardio, minded my business, then, stiff and tired, I went to shower. Opened the sauna door--and there was Harry. A towel draped around his body, I started burning in lust.
Harry smiled. I groped myself. Harry groped back, and I fell upon him like a starving man. Licked his nipples, then sucked them. Felt his stubble. Felt his biceps. Not much bigger than mine, actually. But they looked huge, for some reason. No, not for a reason. As Shakespeare tells us, lust is past reason.
I'm trembling, more excited than I've been in a long time. He's reciting his usual lines: "Suck that big cock Take it down your throat!" Who writes that stuff, anyway? But I'm not in the mood for literary criticism. I'm in lust, my whole body turned on. I lick his balls, gnaw lightly on his nipples, feel his body. He's lying back on the lower bench, like it was a chaise longue, enjoying the show, and making those terse comments.
I'm overcome. My cock is bursting. I step back and start jerking. This is part of the show for Harry. "Yeah, jerk that cock. Let me see your body explode!" The last I actually find poetic.
I'm about to cum. My knees are trembling, I'm gasping for breath, my eyes don't focus. I feel like I'm 15 years old and fascinated by my own orgasm. And by the fact that Harry is, too. I'm present enough to see that he's staring at me and jerking.
Bang! I shoot several times, over the bench. Dirty Harry keeps up his commentary all through my climax. I finish, then calm down. He's relaxed, but he hasn't cum. Thinking back on it, I've never seen him cum. It's like he knows he's there for the enjoyment of others.
I go out and take a shower, then go back in the sauna to dry off. Harry's still there. I mention that I'm flying to Europe in a few hours. He engages in the chit-chat, as if we hadn't had any intimacy. I go along with it. He's traveled a lot. His father works for an airline (later he told me that his father is a pilot).
We had a few more encounters like this. For a while, I went to the gym in the hopes of seeing him. But then the thrill faded, as lust will. And at a certain point he must have changed gyms, because I didn't see him again.
But he left me the memory of that wintry drive, and my knees shaking. And my body exploding.
II. Oh, Baby
I'm no respecter of age. I don't like having sex with boys, or with men who pretend to be boys. But a good body, a nice face, a sweet disposition, can belong to someone of any age.
Diamond Jim was older, maybe 15 years older than I. But maybe less: I'm in pretty good shape for my age. His once taut body had become slack. His face, in odd moments, looked tired. But his spirit was young. He wore a single `diamond' earring. His expression would pick up when a nice looking guy came into the sauna. And he enjoyed easy conversation.
From him, I learned that he was once very athletic. He had some orthopedic problems and couldn't work out much for the last 15 years. He cut hair in his home for a living. He was always well-groomed, and he always talked to me. I didn't understand that he was into me. I regularly underestimate myself that way.
He had a pleasant, working class accent. I often took a plastic bottle of water into the sauna, drinking to replace the water I sweat out. One day I left the sauna to fill up my bottle.
"That's a good idea," said Jim, when I returned.
I asked him if he wanted a drink. He said no, he never drinks in the gym. I said to him, "It isn't vodka."
He said, "How do I know?"
I said, "I'll show you it's not vodka".
And I poured it over my head. He laughed, and muttered something about a cheap brand.
So we were sauna friends. But somehow I didn't recognize his lust, maybe because it was not mutual.
One day I was very horny. I sat with my legs open and my towel off while others came into the sauna, not my usual way. Guys came in and went out, but didn't seem interested. Until Jim came in. I lay on the top bench, he sat below me, sprawling his arms along the top. It was hard for either of us to avoid touching the other.
Well, I'm looking around for someone to do, and Jim is staring at me. I don't actually notice this, until his arm touches my extended leg. And for some reason I don't draw back.
Jim sees this as an invitation, and strokes my calf muscle. I like this--the caress that's not yet sexual. Of course, it is sexual. There's only one place that leads, and the path is pretty direct. But I like the idea that he didn't just dive right in, that I'm more than something that comes with a dick.
But Jim does want dick. By way of invitation, and out of gratitude for the courtliness of his hand, I sit up, making my crotch more accessible. He's there pretty quickly, fondling me and getting me hard. Then he stands up, bends over, and takes me in his mouth. He's good. He knows how to treat a man's dick. I'm getting harder and twitching a bit.
By way of reciprocating, I take his dick in my hand. Not a big one, and not particularly hard. But someday I will be not particularly hard, so let's not judge. And I enjoy the feeling of his cock and my reciprocation of his pleasuring me.
Jim is in an odd position, bent over like that. He has to stand up after a while, because it's not comfortable. And when he stands, he has to let go of my dick with his mouth. As he does so, he shakes it with his hand, and whispers, "Oh, baby!".
This turns me on big time. I dive down and take his somewhat short cock in my mouth. His eyes roll and he thrusts it at me. But he's overwhelmed, and pulls it out of my mouth. He wants me, and he goes back to sucking. I get into a position where he can suck on me more comfortably, and he goes at it.
Just a few more minutes and I'm ready to cum. I've been fondling and pumping him, and it seems that he's ready, too. I take my dick out of Jim's mouth and give it a few pumps. It explodes. Jim is astonished as the drops fly halfway across the sauna. He looks at me, and I feel his cock twitch and melt in my hand. He's cum too.
Later, in the locker room, Jim keeps looking at me. A big mistake--people will talk. I don't look back at him, and feel bad about this. His locker is not near mine, but it's near the water fountain, and I'm thirsty from the sauna. As I lean down to the water fountain, he gropes my ass. Right there in `public', in the locker room! I ignore it, except that in passing my eyes lock onto his for an instant. That's enough for Jim. He knows that I liked it. But he shouldn't do it any more. Even lust has its boundaries.
I saw Jim several times after that, and each time he smiled at me, had a few words, then dove on my cock. Once or twice I was tired from my workout, and didn't feel like sex--especially with Jim, who didn't turn me on. He would caress my leg, and sometimes would coax me into playing with him. But even when I didn't, I always let him feel me. One day (I hope!) I'll be that old. And it won't be so long now. And if I conceive a passion for a younger guy--not too much younger--I want to be able to express it and enjoy it with dignity, just as Jim could with me.