This is a follow up "of sorts" to the true story called, "Adam" posted in the no-sex section of nifty. (http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/no-sex/adam/ )
A few years ago, I left a message on a message board that said I was Mormon, gay and married. I wanted others in similar circumstance to contact me.
I had forgotten all about the posting when I received a note from a guy calling himself Jared.
We soon developed a rapport that turned into something special. Sometime during this time, he decided to trust me with his real name, Manolo. We chatted continuously while I was at work, and one day, I told him he could call me if he wanted, giving my number.
My phone rang minutes later! It was so surreal to hear his sweet "European" voice. Manolo is from Spain, but his accent was quite different from the Mexican accent I associated with Spanish.
In a matter of four months we were deliriously in love. Before this time, I scoffed at the idea of internet romance.
My wife was gone during most of this time -- taking care of her father who was sick, or rather helping take care of her invalid mother because her dad could not.
He told me that he got very cheap phone rates to the USA, so I didn't object to him calling often. He called me "Papi" which is daddy in Spanish. I called him "Chiquitin", which is close to "my sweet child". Manolo was 29, and I was about 57. We talked literally for hours ... sometimes 7 -- 8 hours. He would call me as he was going to sleep and we would talk until he fell asleep and vice versa.
One time I JO'ed while we were talking. He figured it out and said, "Papi, I have a confession to make."
"What's that, Chiquitin?" I asked.
"I was masturbating the other night when we were talking."
"And you thought you would tell me because you knew I was just doing it ... right?"
"Yes."
The next night (for him) (Morning for me) he asked if we could masturbate together. We did. I have massively explosive orgasms, and when I went off, I was very noisy, which magnifies the orgasm even more. (Try it yourself sometime -- it really works! Scream as you are going off!)
When I was finished I asked, "Did you cum?"
"Yes -- when you did." He loved my loud orgasm, but his housemate ( a woman) may not have appreciated if he made noise.
That was the only time we did that. (We felt guilty afterward.)
Manolo had had only one boyfriend before. They lived together when he was about 23 -- 26, for three years. He told me they did nothing more than mutual masturbation. I believe him.
Both of us felt tremendous guilt over what we were doing. But we pressed on. I devised a plan for him to come here and actually stay with us, wherein he contacted my wife in a letter, first. I'll leave out the boring details, but knowing her, I knew that she would ask me to deal with him.
We staged several calls while she was home, so she could get the idea that we hit it off as friends. When he asked about places to stay, SHE suggested he stay with us and SHE suggested he use one of our extra cars while he was here. He was to be studying on an "exchange program" at a nearby university.
On the day he was supposed to arrive I went to the airport to pick him up. He didn't show. I waited until all the people from his flight were down, then another 30 minutes. What worried me was there was no phone call. I knew he had a cell phone. So I traveled the hour back home from the airport feeling empty and bereft. I was worried on several levels, as you might imagine.
I got home and like a robot went to the TV and turned it on. I was so upset, I could not even cry. The movie, "Ghost" had just started when the phone rang. It was Manolo. The dam broke, and I was almost hysterical. He said he was at the airport, that he got hung up in customs in Texas, so had to take the next flight out.
I said I'd be right there, still crying. He said, "Please, Papi, take your time and be careful."
I did as he asked and got to the airport safely. There he was standing on the curb. Manolo isn't spectacular to look at, but he's nice looking. My heart stopped for a moment. I got out of the car and ran around to him as he stood on the curb, waiting. I threw my arms around him and picked him up, twirling around and laughing.
When we got into the car, I drove to the first dark place I could finds and stopped. I kissed my sweet baby boy for the first time. It was one of those magical moments that one never forgets. (Obviously!)
We then went to a restaurant where I bought him a rib dinner. Then we came home. We were not the least bit shy. We first headed for the shower where we inspected and washed every inch of each other's bodies.
Then we went to bed (My wife was in Colorado) and made sweet love for hours. (No anal) But he got his very first blow job that night.
I have to take time out to tell you ... my wife truly is frigid. No response to any stimulation. I grew up with the idea ingrained in me that my sole purpose in love making is to satisfy my partner. At 56 years old, I had never accomplished this with my wife.
So this being his first BJ, he was uncut and so was VERY sensitive.
I am a master at deep throat. His member is long and rather thin, so it was pretty easy. It didn't take much on his sensitive and really, virgin piece, to bring him to completion. I know that it surprised him as much as me what he did.
He truly lost his head. He went out of his mind in his ecstasy. Once he started to orgasm, he grabbed my head and rammed and jambed it all the way down and hard as he could. It hurt - - a LOT! But I didn't care. I was in heaven. I was the cause of him losing control. I loved that! He was more than satisfied. He was totally into his orgasm. I was totally in love.
The next morning we did about the same. He also sucked me, but, being a virgin, was not too good at it yet, but I didn't mind. All I cared about was pleasing him. He got me to cum and my orgasms, as formerly stated, are powerful, so he was pleased.
The next night, he said, "Papi, I want you in me."
I knew that this was awfully soon, but I used lots of lube on my finger, trying to ease that small digit into his anus. Even that was more than he could take. He cried because he "failed" me.
From there ... it went down hill. I drove him to Idaho and Utah to see friends. (About 800 miles one way). Actually he did most of the driving. I had a relatively new Pontiac Grand Prix, and being from out of country, he felt comfortable going 105 mph most of the way. We never got stopped!
I left him in Salt Lake and went on to Colorado, where my wife was, and saw my father-in-law just before he died of a very fast moving cancer. Diane came back home with me. We didn't meet up with Manolo again, as he decided to fly back (to us) a few days later.
When he got back, we grew more and more apart, as it was evident that he hates the USA, and I have a very hard time with that.
Then the real story came out. He took me out to dinner one night and told me that his plan was to make me an offer I couldn't refuse. He wanted me to leave my family and come back to Europe with him, where he would take care of me in grand style for the rest of my life.
It turns out that his family is so fabulously rich that they own villas in every major European city -- just as places to stay while visiting. He only worked at our church's genealogy center because he loved doing that kind of work, while he pursued his education. He didn't ever really have to work a day of his life if that's what he chose. He has two brothers and a sister. One brother is a playboy, and the other, more like Manolo, wants to pull his own weight. His sister also is motivated.
But in the four weeks he got to know my family and also fell in love with them, and so could not rob them of their father and grandfather. And by that time, we had too many other differences. Differences in culture. His hate for America was a biggie for me. And also, as soon as he told me about being wealthy, he started being paranoid about me taking HIM for a ride. I didn't care a lick for his money.
But I loved him more than life itself. And ... he loved me the same. We both could see that it would never work. Before he came to me, he said he would be happy living in my area, getting a job and just taking what was left over after my family obligations. Either he was not quite honest about that, being used to buying anything he wanted, or he changed his mind, realizing that arrangement could never work.
My father-in-law was close to dying and so my wife went back to Colorado, and that left us together alone again. I wanted to have a "nice" farewell, but not he. We both cried almost all night, our last night together, but he would not even let me get in his bed, to hold him. We did hold each other for a long time, standing up in the hallway. I'm pretty sure he was afraid if he let me into bed, things might go further than he wanted them to.
My friends were very hard on him. (In letters to me) saying he was a devil. But I knew differently. It was the only way he knew to handle the situation.
Anyway, my father-in-law died, so I left the next morning, leaving Manolo to fend for himself in our home.
When we got home, Manolo was gone. I was bereft. And ... I had to hide my heartbreak from my wife and family. That makes it worse, I think. Luckily ... or maybe unluckily, depending on how you look at it ... my wife does not change linens until just before a new guest comes. For that reason, Manolo's bed ... and Manolo's smell ... was very evident in his room. I would go in there when she was gone, lie on the bed and bury my face in his pillow. The smell was intoxicating to me, and I would cry my heart out. Of course the smell finally aired out naturally, long before I admitted it was gone.
When I finally admitted the smell was gone, I cried again, for that loss. He refused to communicate in any way with me, which my friends all said was really shitty of him. But ... I of all people understood. His way of dealing with a heart-breaking situation was to distance himself as much as possible. I understand that ... even though it's not how I handle it.
I finally decided I had to get rid of all the reminders -- emails, pictures, letters, mostly. I had them in three different email accounts and also had a special diary all about us. Each time I remembered something I had forgotten to get rid of, I cried as I deleted it.
I still find things occasionally. I am thankful that Diane had her own file, because I was able to save his picture to my own, and now that's all I have ... except I send him a birthday card every year. I still love him and cannot imagine I will ever NOT love him. But ... it doesn't hurt so much now. For a time, I wanted to die, it hurt so very badly.
If it was not for Adam, it would have been much worse. He was also hurt, because my love for Manolo took me away from him -- for a time.
After Manolo, I finally let myself fall in love with Adam, because by the time he was 24 and showed no inclination to find anyone else, saying he only wanted me. I still encouraged him to find someone else, because I could never give him what I felt he deserved ... which was all of me.
Adam and I fell into a pretty sweet relationship. He had NO gay friends. His circle of friends, of whom he was the hub for, being the most popular and the most active, athletic, were ALL jocks -- but he was the most talented.
Then, at the gym, Adam met Calvin. He told me all about him as soon as he had suspicions that maybe Cal was gay. I was so happy when Adam told me, after a long "acquaintance" time that he and Cal discovered they were both gay, and were both attracted to each other.
They were both giving mixed signs to each other. Neither acts gay, and Adam always was talking about his girlfriends (which he tried for awhile) and all his macho jock friends. Cal would speak of his room mate, but never gave any sign of anything else.
One night, after working out, spotting for each other, etc., they went to a movie together. At the movie, Cal decided to do something proactive. He put his arm against Adam's on the arm rest. Adam didn't move his. That got a conversation going and finally
Adam said, "Cal, who is this room mate you always talk about?" Cal didn't say anything for an embarrassed moment, so Adam said, "Cal, I REEEALY like you."
They went out to the creek beside the theater, and found a little more about each other.
Adam always pointed out guys to me that he might be attracted to. They were all OLD looking ... older than me! That worried me. So when he asked me to meet him and Cal at a car show, I was understandably concerned. (It didn't hit me at that time that this would mean the end of my sexual relationship with Adam.)
When I met Cal, I was delighted! He was only 43, and looked even younger. I could easily have gone for him!
Well, after six months of dating Cal, I told Adam, that if he indeed was as serious about Cal, we needed to stop having sex. The sex between him and Cal (not anal) didn't hurt me at all. But stopping our sexual activity put a big exclamation point on the end of our romantic relationship.
So, I was heart broken again. But not as bad as with Manolo. Why? Because I still was able to see Adam all the time. I don't deal with separation as Manolo did. I love seeing Adam. It doesn't hurt any more at all. Now I am just his uncle again -- (Ummm - with sweet memories of his "huge one" in me!)
I will always love Adam ... AND Manolo!