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Rittenhouse Square
In the old part of Philly there is a park, more than a square block, (the blocks are small there), called Rittenhouse Square. It has survived as a "good" address as the neighborhood around it deteriorated and came back again. Mr. Jackson, the college professor, told me about it, and if I wanted to get laid with an older guy, it was a good place to cruise. Just walk around the block on the building sides of the streets, at night, and once you have made the circuit one time guys out watching will know what you are about and you will get approached by someone decent. In the 1950's and 60's it was the park itself was the gay part of Philly, the park was a place to find a guy at night and have sex, but no more. Now it is well lit, and there are security cameras, and cops, so it is safe for ordinary folks, but not for guys who want to hook up in public.
But, the neighborhood is still home to many prosperous gays, and although hooking up on line has taken over from cruising in person, it still happens, and on a nice evening, nice things can happen.
So, on a nice October Saturday night, I took an Uber and went there. I dressed well, and looked the part of an Ivy League college student, and walked around the block on the building sides of the street. True to the story there were a dozen or so guys sitting on the stoops of the remaining old brownstones, or strolling casually, some obviously gay, some not, many still with the lighted cigarette, but not obviously smoking it, a clue Mr. Jackson had told me to watch for. On my second trip around, several gave me the eye, or rubbed their crotch, or both. It looked like I would have my pick.
A Black guy, maybe 6' 5", football player build, maybe 35 or so, sitting on the stoop of a brownstone, smiled and said, "Hi."
I stopped, and said, "Hi," back to him.
"Going anywhere in particular?" he asked, "I've never seen you here before."
"Nope," I said, "just wandering around to see what I can see."
"Well, you are looking at me, do you like what you see?"
"I sure do," I replied, "maybe you are what I am looking for. You live around here?"
"I do, right here, in fact, on the 4th floor, you want to come up?"
"Sure, want to talk a bit first?"
"Ok, but I like what I see. What do you want to know about me?"
"I am versatile, mostly top, but will bottom, clean, what do you like to do?"
"Versatile bottom, ex NFL player, hung pretty well, bi, feel like a guy tonight, all races are ok by me. No drugs, no diseases, condoms for fucking. You?"
"College baseball player, hung a bit above average for a white guy, bi, all races are Ok by me as well, no diseases, condoms for fucking."
"Sounds like a match, let's go."
We climbed the 4 flights of stairs, ran up actually, no problem for either of us, but we were both breathing hard when we got there. He unlocked the door, two locks, and we went in. It was furnished with really nice furniture, the biggest TV I had seen outside of a bar, a bar with every kind of hard liquor you can imagine, a big couch with reclining seats, behind the living room a hall with a bathroom and kitchen on one side, and a bedroom the width of the building at the back. It was on a corner so the kitchen and bathroom had a window, the living room looked out on the park, the bedroom on the side of another brownstone.
"You smell good," I said, I did not know what it was, but it was manly and clean.
"Thanks," he said, "it is my soap, it comes from Spain, I learned about it in the NFL. You want a drink? I have just about anything you can imagine."
"Something with no alcohol if you have it."
"Sure, how about some seltzer -- lime -- homemade," and he squeezed a lime into a glass and filled it with seltzer from a pressure can. He made one for himself and put some vodka in it. "Sure you don't want a splash of vodka?"
"No thanks, I need a clear head for tomorrow."
"Time to strip?"
"Yes," and I followed him to the bedroom which had a king sized bed. He was king sized as well. A really big guy and all muscle, a bit of a belly, but when he sucked it in, a 6 pack showed itself. Great shoulders, great pecs, dark brown nips, basically hairless body, shaved pubes, shaved underarms, big cock, kind of a semi, uncut, the whole package.
I was naked, and hard, and he dropped to his knees and put his lips around it, and sucked it to beat the band. It was one of the best blow jobs I had ever had. He really knew what he was doing. I put my hands on his head and guided his pace. He had one hand on my balls, and one on his cock which by now was hard and the pink head was showing past the foreskin as he pulled back.
"Stop," I said, "you are too good, I will cum in a few seconds. I can go again, and stay hard, but twice is about my limit, although if we have time, a third is usually possible."
"Let's explore each other, I want you to fuck me before we are done, so let's take it easy, and maybe talk a bit." We laid down on the bed side by side, caressing each other's bodies, and exchanging stories. He had played in college, and 6 seasons in the NFL until he snapped an Achilles tendon, the repair did not work, he had almost enough money for the rest of his life if he were frugal, he drove an old Honda Civic when in the NFL when most of the other guys were driving Escalades or something equally expensive, he was tired of hiding the gay side of his life, and he had the college credentials to be a stock broker, which he now was. Not making as much money as in the NFL, but enough to live well, and travel all around the world. And, he loved to be fucked. By white guys, Black guys, Mexicans, whoever came along and was hard and could go long. That, on my second round that night, was me.
His muscles really turned me on, I was as hard as I ever get, we fucked missionary, doggie, scissors, he on back with ass way up in the air and me standing and plunging straight down, all the while with him moaning and groaning, and loving cock in his ass. I am pretty flexible for a guy, but no gymnast, he was even more flexible -- "I could suck my own cock until I was part way through college," he said, "and then when I bulked up I couldn't any more. But in this position, (on back, ass way up in the air) I can still shoot my cum toward my mouth and make it, almost every time. I love doing that. Especially when I am being fucked at the same time. So, let's go for it."
"And," he said, "I like the contrast between white and black skin, that turns me on."
"That turns me on, too," I replied. "And your skin is so smooth, especially your ass."
"Fuck me hard, make me cum," he ordered. I did. He did. He shot mostly straight down into his mouth.
"Now, pull out and jerk off into my mouth."
I pulled out, pulled off the condom, knelt over his chest, and gave my cock a few strokes while he fingered my hole with one hand, and my left nip with the other. "Maul my pecs, and put that finger up my ass," I said, he did, and I came shooting my big wads of cum into his mouth, or mostly anyway. I was spasming so much that my aim was not totally accurate.
"Nice," he said, licking my excess cum off his lips, "We will need to do this again soon, if you want to."
"Absolutely," I replied. We exchanged contact information and I went back to the dorm, and, jerked off, to the hot memory of what I had just done, visualizing that great NFL body, on his back, his cock aiming towards his mouth, and then shooting wads of cum right at the target.