The following story is a true fantasy. Names and places have been changed to protect the guilty. Keep the beat with your hand.
I'm a 74-year-old filmmaker. And yes, you young ejaculists, we ancients do still fuck and dream of fucking. Doing it, though, is more rare.
Basically, I prefer women. Every time I see one with those lovely curves, of any age, I pay close attention for as long as I can. Men just don't do it for me. Yet, I've known for some time that given the right circumstances, a man, and maybe several, could be wonderful lovers.
Over the years I've freelanced as a director of photography and shot several commercials for Tom. One day we met up in a café for a meeting I'd set up for him. He greeted me with what started to be a hug, but I interrupted that gesture with a handshake. Something magnificent and hidden about his reaction stuck with me. Later, the more I went over that moment, the more clear it came to me how I now had a crush on Tom. There seemed to be a small possibility that he felt the same way. Every time we exchanged emails about a possible job, we seemed to linger with more and more exchanged banter. The idea grew in me: maybe he wanted me, liked me a lot, and wanted me sexually. I knew I liked him so much. And maybe I wanted him sexually too. From time to time I'd masturbate with many variations on our first full-blown sexual encounter. Often that left me feeling empty afterwards, rather than full and contented which is how I feel when I either masturbate fantasizing about a woman, or, much more rarely, fucking my wife. That says, I thought, that I don't really want to do this. Maybe it says, I don't really want to leave my wife. But I kept coming back to these hungry fantasies, each time more complete, each time more joyously filled with love and every possible kind of sex that two men can have together.
The call came: we need to go scout in the town of Titus, a location for an upcoming commercial. Could I meet him? Since the drive was long, would I like to spend the night before at a motel in Titus, so we would have a full day's time to scout and drive back? Of course. Well, since this was so low-budget, would I mind sharing a room with him? His voice had become very hesitant, tentative, knowing he was breaching work etiquette and possibly social as well. I didn't hesitate for a second. Not at all, let's do that, I said. There was a long pause, then, "Would you rather we had twin beds, or would you like us to share a King bed." "King for me," I replied, again without a second's hesitation.
We were both a little breathless now. My cock was rising hard in my pants. "Let's meet up tomorrow, for lunch at 1:00 at the Titus Cafe, Then we can check-in at the motel at 2:00. After that we can catch a nap if we like." Tom finally said. I agreed with utter longing. "I'm so glad you too are a napper, I managed to sputter out." Tom laughed. We stayed on the phone for a minute, neither of us able to think of another thing to say. Finally I broke the ice: "I'll meet you then." We hung up. I just wanted to leap through the phone and kiss him.
Tomorrow at 1:00 took forever to come, but come it did. I rolled up to the café at least a half-hour early and found Tom there already, sipping a cup of coffee. This time we embraced freely. I pressed my loins against his, and felt a welcoming bulge between his legs. We slowly untangled our arms and stepped back a little, both of us blushing. "We should eat," I said, trying to change the topic for a moment. It was another eternity until 2:00 and we could check in.
Our room was sun filled with a wonderful king-sized bed beckoning at us. We dropped our bags. I turned to Tom and took him in my arms. His flew around me. My lips found his, his mine, and soon our tongues began to dance in and out of each other's mouths, so hungry, so aching, as we began to push our loins up and down against each other, relishing the hard bulges longing to be free. Now our hands were caressing each other's asses, hunting for the forbidden spot, caressing it, teasing away and returning with more and more insistence.
"You have too many clothes on," I finally was able to say, my chest heaving. "So do you, you naughty boy," he giggled back. "Actually, it's you who is the naughty boy. I'm old enough to be your father." "Funny, you don't look like my father and I'm so glad you are not my father." I kissed him again, quickly. "No, I am your fuck-daddy and you are my fuck-boy," and I slapped his ass hard. "Yes, Daddy," he whispered, and dropped to his knees to loosen my belt, pulling my pants down to reveal my cock bulging in my underpants. "Your fuck boy, Daddy, wants to make you feel good." He pressed his cheek gently against my cock through my underpants, then slid his hands into each side of the elastic waist band and pulled them down. I stepped out of pants and underpants and joyously presented my risen cock to his eyes and I hoped soon his mouth. The unbelievable happened. His tongue twirled around my cut cock head and then his warm mouth engulfed the head as his tongue slide up and down the front, nestling, teasing, resting, then slipping away from that most tender, wonderful spot, as one of his hands cupped my balls, and the other slipped around to slide up and down my crack, teasing my love hole again and again. I spread my legs wider to give him easier access.
I pulled off my shirt, leaned over, and yanked free his. "Stand up," I commanded. His mouth would not leave my cock. "Fuck Boy, Fuck Daddy says, `Stand up!'" Reluctantly he stood up. "Now drop your pants and underpants and show Daddy your cock. I want to see if I like it." He complied, giggling slightly. As his pants and underpants fell, his magnificent cut cock rose to my eyes. I could not stop myself. I dropped to my knees, rubbing his oozing cock against my cheek and soon engulfing it into my hungry mouth as I sucked greedily on his pre-cum. "You are a good Fuck Boy," I managed to say. "Turn around, spread your legs wide, and open up your ass so I can inspect you. He complied again, and his brown pucker hole appeared before me, appearing to dance as he shifted his weight back and forth, his legs spread wide as he arched his ass toward my delighted eyes. He was deliciously hairless. I closed them to lean in and began to slide my tongue up one side of his crack, and down the other, never quite touching his love hole, just teasing him relentlessly. "Oh Fuck-Daddy, please, please tongue me here where I hunger for your touch," he blurted out. I could resist no longer, and zeroed my tongue right into the center of his hole, pushing his cheeks further apart, pressing, releasing, pressing my tongue, trying to dive into his beautiful ass.
Copyright fullspectrum2w
Should I continue this story? I think the author and Tom continue to deepen their love and then share with both other men and some surprisingly beautiful, joyful bisexual women. Email your answer to fullspectrum2w@aol.com