This is a work of fiction containing gay consensual sex between adults over the age of 18 years old. If it is illegal to view this material, offended by the content or underage, please leave this site immediately. This work of fiction/fantasy is the product of the author and maybe not be copied and/or published in any way without the express consent of this author. No one in this story is real, living or dead. Any resemblance to a living or dead person is purely an accident.
I just couldn't get that kid off my mind; I would catch myself going out of my way to drive down his street. I was hoping that I would just see him walking home from class, just catch a glimpse of his sweet face, or his lithe tight body. I would lay awake at night remembering what his tears tasted like when I kissed them away, and what his boy hole felt like gripping my throbbing cock when we made love. Yes, I thought of it as making love, not just having sex or getting off. I was afraid that I was just having a midlife crisis; after all I was old enough to be his father, hell, possibly his grand father. This kid could not possibly have any feelings for me, yet, I wanted to be with him again. I mean, I don't even know his name. I know that I could have him for a price, he needed the money. But, I didn't want to cheapen this relationship I had in my head with him by paying for sex. I mean, you pay for sex, right, not for love, and I wanted his love. I wanted to love him.
About two weeks after our first meeting I decided on a plan. During the day when I knew he was in class, I drove to his building, and knocked on the manager's door. A thirty something man came to the door, shirtless, showing off his tattoo of a large bird on his hairy chest, and with a smoldering cigarette dangling from his mouth. He was barefoot with long yellow toenails, and dirty cut off sweat pants. Even though I could tell that he was not wearing underwear, I did not get turned on. There was nothing sexy about him. I explained that I wanted to pay the next months rent on apartment nine on the third floor, and I needed a receipt. I would throw in an extra fifty, if he told the young man that lived there that an old woman paid it for him. "Yeah, dude, whatever. I would tell him the Easter bunny paid it for fifty dollars." He said around that stinking cigarette. I had to fight the urge to go up the stairs, just to touch the door to the crappy room where he lived. I went back to my car, an empty feeling in my stomach, and drove away. If I really loved him, I could do this. I could help him without expecting anything in return. Oh, but I wanted him so badly. I hurt inside just being away from him.
I still kept driving by every chance I had. I wanted so bad just to see him, and then, one day, there he was. He was walking down the street with a guy about my age. He had his backpack over his shoulder and was saying something to this guy and pointing toward his building. The old guy was bald, a little more than overweight, but less than fat. He was acting very nervous, kept looking around, and over his shoulder. When they got to the door, they stopped, and the kid said something, and the old guy handed him some money. They turned and went into the building. I drove on. I tried to not think about what was going on up there. The thought of him doing to another man what he had done for me was too hard for me. I knew my plan was stupid. I had to do something that would end this suspense, I had to have him, or I had to get over him. I had to stop thinking there was a possibility that we could have a relationship, or I was going to have a relationship.
On Saturday morning, I went to his apartment. I knew he didn't have class, and was hoping I could catch him before he went to "work". I hiked up the stairs. The building was quiet, and the smell was worse than the last time I was there. I hesitated outside his dirty scarred door. The paint was yellowed and chipped, and rattled in the casing when I knocked on it. I had to knock twice before I heard the lock turning. The door opened a crack, and I saw his eyes peeking out at me. "Yeah, what do . . ., oh, hi" he said as he recognized me. "Hi." I said back. I really didn't know what to say from there. "Can I talk to you, would you like to go out for coffee?" I said improvising. "That sounds good, come on in while I get dressed." He said while he unhooked the chain lock, and opened the door. He was shirtless, wearing baggy boxers, and white half socks. "It's ok; I'll wait downstairs while you dress." He smiled, his soft red lips turning up at the ends, and his deep dark eyes sparkled. "You've seen me in less than this." He said as he picked up a pair of jeans off the floor, pulled them on, doing a little jump to pull them up. He pulled on a worn white t-shirt, and stuffed his feet into an old pair of grey tennis shoes, ran a brush through his shaggy hair, and announced, "Ready." I couldn't help but smile, he was so damn cute. I wanted to kiss him so bad, and my balls started to tingle. We walked to a local coffee shop that was used mostly by college students. We ordered our coffee, and went out on the back deck that overlooked a small parking lot, and a smelly green dumpster. He stared down into his cup blowing softly over the surface of the steaming black liquid. The steam from the cup encircled his cute boy face, and his long dark eyelashes hid his deep dark eyes from me. He looked shy, not something you would expect from a boy that sold sex to pay his bills. He looked up, those eyes looking deep into mine, almost reaching my soul. "You wanted to talk to me?" He said. It was almost a whisper.
I decided to just tell the truth. "I can't stop thinking about you, I find myself driving down your street just to catch a glimpse of you. I'm starting to think of myself as a stalker. I just need to know, do you ever think of me?" he took a sip of his coffee, looked back down, giving me that "shy boy" look again. "You know what I do man, alright. I lie to guys for money. I tell them that I love them, that they are a stud. I tell them that their cock is the best I have ever had; I tell them that for the money man. I not only sell my body, I sell lies too. If I told you how I felt about you man, how would you know if it was the truth, or just to get some cash from you?" I knew what he was talking about, I wanted to help him, I wanted him to stop having sex with other men, yet, I wanted him to make love to me. If I helped him pay his bills, was I paying for sex? We would never be sure where we stood with each other. Was he lying when he was with me, and just after the money? He would never know how much I loved him as long as I was paying for "it". "You know, I think over some time I will be able to show you how I feel about you, and I will know how you feel about me. I will just have to trust you. Now, do you think about me?" He looked at me for a minute and then asked, "You paid my rent for me didn't you?" "Yeah." I said. He looked back down and said, "I was going to have to let that skank fuck me for my rent this month. I had midterms, and couldn't get out and earn enough in time to pay him. I really owe you man. He's gross."
"The point is, you don't owe me. I did it because I love you. I didn't do it so you would have to "do" anything."
"You mean that you don't want to have sex with me?"
"No, I don't want to have sex with you. I want to make love to you, and I want you to make love to me, but . . . only if that is what you want, what you feel. I don't want sex. I want more, so much more, I want your heart."
The tears started then, not just one, but a wash of them down his unshaved cheeks. "Yeah man, I think about you. I can't stop thinking of you. You were the first person I have had sex with just because I wanted to. Not because I had to. I don't know if I can give you what you want. I mean, love. I'm not sure what that is, no one has ever loved me, and I have never had someone to love. I want it though. I wanted so much to see you again, when I opened the door, and you were there. . ." His voice trailed off, he couldn't talk through his tears any longer. I placed my hand over his, and said, "Let me walk you home now, ok? You need some time to think about this." We both got up and headed toward his apartment. I couldn't help myself; I reached down and took his hand in mine. He leaned in closer and placed his head on my shoulder. When we arrived at the door to his building, I pulled away to leave. "No, please don't leave me." he said, his deep wet eyes pleading with me, his hand gripping mine. "I think it would be best. I want you too much right now. It wouldn't be fair to you if I stayed. We both know what would happen." I couldn't believe I said that, because I wanted to go upstairs with him so bad. My cock was hard and leaking in my pants just being close to him. "But I want it to happen, do you understand, I just want to be with you, now." He said, leaning in to me and pressing his hard little cock into my body. "See, I want you, I want to make love to you, and I want you to make love to me. I need it. I need you." I wanted to be strong, and insist that he take some time and think this through, but when I felt his need pressing into mine, my resolve broke, and I opened the door.
When we closed the door to his apartment, I took him in my arms, pressed his lips to mine, our bodies tight together. It was my turn to cry, tears ran from my eyes as I held this boy god, and knew that he wanted it, he wanted me. He pulled his head back and looked at my wet face. At first he just looked puzzled, but then he smiled a knowing smile. He pulled his shirt off over his head and stood bare-chested in front of me. I had been wrong before, he was naturally smooth, he didn't shave his chest. His nipples were hard, and when I pulled him to me I could feel them through my shirt. My hands traveled over the soft warm skin on his back, down under the waist of his jeans and boxers and over the wonderful tight globes of his young firm ass. I pressed him tighter to me, and felt him start to hump my groin. One of us moaned; it may have been me. He backed off again and started unbuttoning my shirt. He pulled it loose from my pants, and slid it off my shoulders. We held each other again, feeling the warmth of our flesh, our hands rubbing, touching. He pulled away and walked toward the bed, stopping, and facing me, he undid his jeans, pulled them down with his boxers, and stepped out of them. Naked, except for the dirty half socks on his small feet, he climbed onto the mattress. He lay on his back, legs spread, and that cute little cock sticking up toward the ceiling, a drop of pre-cum leaking out of his slit, dripping off the red little head, and down his shaft. I walked to the foot of the bed, reached down and took the sock off his right foot, placing my lips in the arch, I kissed it. Slowly, I moved my tongue toward his toes, licking the ball of his foot before taking each toe into my mouth and sucking it. This time he moaned. I ran my hand up his hairy calf, stopping at his soft inner thigh. I then moved to his left foot, kissing my way up his leg until my head touched his balls. His hands came to the back of my head, and guided me to his throbbing boy meat. I licked my way up his little shaft, kissed the pre-cum off his hot ripe head. As bad as I wanted to take him into my mouth, I pulled away, and stood up at the end of the bed. I looked down at his perfect naked body, and into those deep, dark eyes, watched his chest rise and fall as his breath came in short gasps. I undid my belt, unfastened the button on my khaki pants, and slid down the zipper. They fell to my feet with the weight of the stuff in my pockets. I used my toes to pry off my shoes, stepping out of my pants and standing in front of him in my black boxer briefs, and socks. I took off my socks, and slid my briefs down my legs exposing my hard, throbbing, dripping, cock. He held his arms out, reaching for me, his eyes begging for me. I crawled up the bed and slid up his body, our hot skin touching, our throbbing meat rubbing together. I took him in my arms, rolled onto our sides, pulled his face to mind and kissed his soft young lips, sucked his hot excited tongue into my mouth, my hands roaming freely wherever that wanted. He pressed tighter into me, our pelvises pressed together. He started humping me, our tongues working feverishly in each others mouth. One of my hands was on the back of his head pressing his mouth to mine; the other was on his smooth, tight ass, pressing our cocks tighter together as I started humping him. My god! It felt so great, I was actually feeling dizzy, and it was almost like having an out of body experience. His hands were on my fuzzy butt, passionately kneading my ass cheeks, and pressing me tight to him as we dry humped like rabbits. I couldn't believe the feeling; it started deep inside like nothing I had ever felt before, rising, growing, and expanding inside. My cock was harder than I had ever experienced, and it felt like it was going to explode, and in a way it did. A huge load of hot white cum shot out with such force that I thought my slit was going to rip. I yelled out, screamed like a girl, as the overpowering feeling of the most intense orgasm I had ever had. And . . . it didn't stop. It wasn't just more shots of cum spewing from my cock, but separate orgasms as the largest load of my life shot out burning our skin. It was so hot. Lost in my own pleasure, a pleasure I had never felt in my life, it took me a second to notice that he was crying and whimpering as his load mixed with mine. We continued humping our bodies together, the hot thick cum making sucking sounds as it slid between our spent cocks. We pulled our mouths off each other, gasping for breath, a dazed look in our eyes, as our brains registered what had just happened. As my eyes started focusing again, I noticed he was staring at me. Those deep dark pools probing me, he smiled, and said "My name is Jamie, what's yours?"
EPILOG
I looked over at the handsome man next to me in the car. We had the top down, and his hair was blowing freely. We were heading to a B&B for the weekend. It was hard to believe that we had been together fifteen years. Jamie had graduated, gone on to get a master's degree in psychology. I helped him open his private practice using my retirement to do it. He worked with boys and young men struggling with their sexual identity and guys trying to escape from a life of prostitution or porn. I worked with him as his business manager. At night we still made passionate love to each other. I am happy to say that I have never had sex once in those fifteen years. I loved him with all my heart, and I knew that he loved me. That is why this trip was so hard. I was going to need to find a way to tell him that the doctors said that pain I was having was cancer, and our time together would be over soon.
Feel free to contact me with comments: shyoldguy@hotmail.com