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I've been delighted with responses to my stories about encounters ive had in recent years, and the experience of hitting middle-age actively on the scene. Here's another fairly true (names aside) account. As always, I'm very happy to receive email responses.
`I could feel Stephen's jealousy through the door. It was palpable. Jealousy mixed with the raging desire of frustration. He was out there in the narrow, stuffy, seedy and dimly lit corridor of this down-market gay sauna. I was in here, on the leather-lined floor of this sweat-laced little cubicle, with the object of his unfulfilled lust; a cute hispanic twink, the only one who had come into the sauna this late Friday night.
I was where Stephen desperately wanted to be. And maybe something satisfying to my less-appealing personality traits might come from it. I wanted a bit of revenge. Here was my chance.
I had met Stephen first when I came out on the gay scene in 1999, when I was 18 and so was he. We were both in our final year at different schools. He was beautiful. I might have been alright looking, but he was special. Whereas I did some very cheap and kinda nasty `modelling' back then, he actually did proper TV commercials and even billboard work. It wasn't going to be either of our professions of course. Both of us were heading to college to do different things, but I mention it here just to emphasise that Stephen was a cut above me in looks, at least as far as I was concerned. And I had the hots for him back then, like most of the guys who met him.
But he wasn't having it. He was on and off engaging with some of the real `elite' of the gay scene; other proper models and members of boy-bands, who were quite common appearances on the scene of our city.
If we were often in each others' company, if we maintained friendly relations and could pass a tolerable nights clubbing together back then, we were nevertheless quite standoffish. If not outright antagonistic on occasion. If I fancied someone and Stephen was there, he usually scored the guy first. And as I say, whereas I might have given my eye-teeth for a tumble with Stephen back then, he was indifferent to my charms.
Anyway, Stephen went on to law school and did extremely well for himself. And he wasn't above letting the rest of our clique know about it too. He began to wear his expensive suits etc out on the scene, and go to only the expensive clubs. You know the type.
Conversely, what Stephen's type was and is, in a sense relevant to this account, is twinks. Always was and he never grew out of it like I did when I was no longer a twink.
Don't get me wrong, of course I find some lads of early twenties attractive. Very. But generally not the stereotypical twinkish type. I like jocks; beefy, athletic fellas, preferably between 21 and 30. Pretty face, hood healthy langer, and most importantly, a firm, athletic bubble-butt.
The thin cherry-lipped `beautiful' twinkie-type are alright and infinitely more shaggable for me than some of the older dudes (of which I am myself one now!) but again, not my first choice. But for Stephen, they are a constant passion. Not that he's got any dodgy ideas about legal-age or anything. Certainly not. But he does have a thing for the all-boy type. And now I was where he wanted himself but couldn't get to.
As I say, Stephen and I are the same age. Both early 40s. That's considered way over the hill- on the scene here anyway. It was when we were first out too. You could be a former boyband star and still be passed over as obsolete if you're over 30 and out of shape. I've managed to at least avoid excessive middle-age spread.
Stephen, on the other hand, manicured, tanned, designer labels and vastly overpriced suits etc that he is, lost his fight with the flab some years ago. I mean, he's not huge or anything, but he's a fairly stereotypical middle aged man who has gotten used to a good, well oiled lifestyle. His boyish beauty from when we met first, is well and truly faded. He's jowly, bloated, breasted, and the hours of tanning and sun holidays have done their work on his face.
Now, that probably sounds pretty ungenerous of me. It's not as if I'm Brad Pitt either. I normally wouldn't dream of insulting anyone like that. But Stephen, as I say was, not the kindest person around through the years I've known him. I can't help but scratch that particular itch.
But even more in my favour; I'm now here, with this luscious latino twink of 19/20. He's just the body type that Stephen relishes; thin, pert, fresh little arse, fine hefty donger , narrow shafted like an arrow. Spotless skin, and exuding the pungent aroma of youthful boy-musk. His hole a savoury feast for the tongue.
And Stephen is sweating his frustration and humiliation outside right now, having been pushed out by this lad in preference for me, almost closing the door on Stephen's aching schlong in the process. This is going to be fun.
`you know that guy?'- asks the twink (who's name I'm sure he gave, but which I admit I forget), impishly.
yeh'-I say, knowing that the door fairly soundproofs our cubicle i know him- 'Why?'
`he's always in here when I am. It's like he's following me'
`were you ever with him before'- I ask
`fuck no! He's disgusting!'- laughs the twink
I laugh too- `you know, he was a model when I met him first. Seriously. He was fucking hot!'
`you ever fuck him?'
`nah. He's an asshole'
We both giggle and I lean forward to engage my lips on his salty, upturned hunk of meat.
He blocks me briefly.
`you want to bring him in?'- he says
I'm a bit taken aback. why?'- I reply- i thought you said he was disgusting'
`yeah, he is. But I wanna have some fun!'
Oh baby! I like the way you're thinking, lad. Could this be a moment for satisfying my own 20years of irritation, of feeling inferior, of my own early frustration at being rejected by that strikingly beautiful young Stephen of yesteryear?
I agree. I swing open the door. Stephen is still there, belly out, cock out, pretending to be watching the porn movie on view in the cubicle beside us.
Come in, me old mate. Have a taste of this fresh young thing with me!...
Of course, that's not what our young friend had in mind.
"You!"- says the twink- "you can come in and watch"
Stephen twitched nervously, unsure what was happening. His lust quickly got the better of him. He crawled in with us. He shut the door after him. Now it was playtime.
The twink got to his feet. Stephen was sitting up against the cubicle wall, working his cock rhythmically .
The twink squatted, presenting his hot latin bussy to Stephen. I could see Stephen's eyes light up as he moved forward to attain his prize. Twink turned and slapped him across the chops
"I said you could look. Not touch you disgusting ol' fuck!"
He did so deceptively playfully so that Stephen wouldn't actually take offence, just think it was part of the game. It was. But my twink also wanted to humiliate Stephen, and I wasn't going to object!
Stephen moaned at the strike. Then the twink buried his ass into Stephen's face until he didn't know whether to cum or choke! That was the beginning.
In the course of our games here, Stephen was subjected to unrelenting humiliation and edging (or so I believe it's called these days). At one point, I was sitting on Stephen's face, as my own was devouring the twinks tasty hole. I couldn't help but let slip a fart on Stephen. I could feel him furiously struggle at that, but he quickly remembered where he was- with the prospect of getting his most immediate desire of a whiff of this lads ass if he controlled his temper - so he accepted he had to tolerate the present indignity of mine. I laughed inwardly.
Eventually, I got to hammer this twink's ass as Stephen watched and occasionally got to nibble at his ballsack. Knowing that Stephen was watching, I went full throttle exhibitionism. I groaned, grunted and exclaimed my ecstasy like I was on camera. I delivered my load (fully rubbered up of course) and sighed excessively.
Stephen eventually popped his cork too, as did the twink.
Well, that was a thoroughly satisfying, if slightly vengeful, cum dump'