Most of the stories here are about very handsome young men with rods of iron. Very nice too.
But we all grow older, get a bit flabby, slow down a bit. Like me – maybe you too. It doesn't mean that we can't continue to enjoy the great pleasures we have always enjoyed, and indeed a loving relationship between older men has qualities that the young don't even know about.
My story is about two of these men, and I hope you find it stimulating. Let me know – jobart11@outlook.com
Old Men Having Fun
I first met Harty on line in the Silverdaddies chatroom. I was in London, he in New York.
His online profile name was Hot Chocolate – eat me' – a not too subtle way of telling the world that he was black. I was KissMe', reflecting my oral preferences. My profile said I loved lots of intimate contact, and that eventful kissing was an essential. It also said race immaterial – I like difference'. His said he was primarily bottom, but that two bottoms could have fun together, so he wasn't necessarily looking for a top to play with. There was plenty more, so I knew that this was someone with more to say than Hi'. One way and another, it seemed like a good match, so I clicked on `chat'.
We chatted quite a lot about sex, obviously, both bemoaning the fact that in later years our powers had diminished, although our desires had not. We moved on to other things then. We had a similar world view, shared a love for classical music – he had been a member of a ballet company in his younger days – and found other things to talk about too. Then we went back to sex, recounting our experiences when we were younger. I did envy him all those dance boys.
We met in the chatroom again, several times, during the next few weeks, until I felt I knew him well enough to mention that I would shortly be working in the US – not in New York but at Stamford CT, not too far away – and that if the opportunity arose for us to spend the weekend together, I would jump at it. He was keen, so we made a plan.
I arrived in Stamford on a Monday. I got on Silverdaddies that evening, told Harty that I planned to be in NY as early as I could on Saturday morning, and that I didn't have to be back in Stamford till late on Sunday. I was working as a consultant, meaning, in short, that I was spending time side by side with workers in a company, then preparing a written report on how they might improve practice. I had finished the in-house work by Friday lunchtime, and went back to the hotel to draw the report together from the notes I had been writing all week. Usually this takes me the whole weekend, ready for a presentation the following Monday, but I just slogged away at it and by dinner time it was in shape – nothing that I couldn't edit and improve on Monday morning. So I was free, which had always been the plan.
I called Harty at about 6. `See you in the morning' I said, I'm catching a train at 8.59 – should be at Penn station before 10am.
But he didn't sound very happy. There was a bit of hesitation then he said `I don't think you should come.'
I was devastated by this. It was so unexpected – all our conversations had been eager and positive. `What's the problem?'
It took a while to get it out of him, but eventually he admitted that he was anxious about disappointing me. Sometimes I can't get my cock up', he said. And it is two years since I last managed to cum'.
Listen Harty, the only thing that will disappoint me will be not seeing you. Remember, I'm not a great stud myself. I am sure we can have fun together, like it said in your profile, and if you can kiss me and hold me tight that will be good enough. And...' I added, there are enough things to do in New York if we don't manage to make out.'
He relented, told me how to get to his apartment from Penn Station, and we hung up.
Ten 20 am, I rang the bell on the panel outside his apartment. `Harty, it's Jim', I said, and he buzzed me in. Fourth floor, he instructed. As I went up in the lift (OK elevator to you), I too was feeling nervous. I had related to Harty in chat, but the real thing can be very different. I had seen the blurred photo of his face that he had sent me, but that didn't really tell me much.
I reached the door of his apartment and knocked. He was obviously waiting just inside, for it opened immediately. He stood there, five foot ten, a little portly, a nervous smile. He was wearing a towelling robe, and was still glistening after his shower. I went in, and closed the door behind me. Harty', I whispered. Jim, good to see you.' There was nothing else said. I moved in to him, put my hands around his head, and kissed his mouth. His response was instant. His tongue found its way between my lips. It had been less than ten seconds, and we both knew that the chemistry was there. He tasted great.
Harty was not a great looker – but then neither was I. The shape had started to fall out of his face, his eyes drooped, he had rather a big nose. He was, let's say, stocky'. As for me, age had set in some time ago, and I sported a rather large belly which, unless I drew it in, concealed from me my rather small cock. None of this mattered. We nuzzled each other, pressing our bodies together. We continued to kiss hungrily. I slipped my hand inside his robe and started to stroke his ample bum as I pulled him closer to me. He loosened the top buttons of my trousers, and did the same to me. We stayed away from each other's cocks – not to have all the treats at once. For several minutes, we enjoyed a blissful congress. At last, he pulled himself away from my mouth. Can I get you a drink?' `Later' I replied, and dived back onto his face, licking it hungrily, turning his head a little so that I could gently bite his ear. He sighed with pleasure. Then, taking my hand, he led me into the bedroom.
Standing by the bed, he pulled the front of his robe open, slipped his arms out, and let it drop to the floor and stood in front of me naked. His greying pubic hair stood out against his black skin. His cock was long and lean, a little shrivelled, and, as he had warned me, soft and hardly trembling. He searched my face for signs of disappointment. He saw none. All I wanted to do was explore his whole body, and my smile and my tongue running round my lips told him what he needed to know. I started to peel off my shirt but he stopped me. `That's my job', he whispered. He slipped it over my neck and looked approvingly at the wisps of hair on my chest before giving each nipple a gentle squeeze. Then he laid me on the bed, on my back, took off my shoes and socks and arranged them neatly under a chair, then started to work on the already loosened trousers. Gently, he tugged them down over my feet, leaving me just in my navy blue briefs. The twitching tented fabric revealed my enthusiasm – I had had no difficulty getting hard from the first moments of our encounter.
He slipped his finger under the elastic of the waistband. `May I?' he asked politely – as if I was going to say no. The next moment, the briefs were on the floor, and his face was buried in my bush hungrily devouring my manhood, tongue swirling, nose rubbing my belly from side to side, hands gripping hard into my buttocks, and bringing me rapidly to the verge of the greatest ecstasy - so much so that I had to pull away and tell him that if I were to cum so soon, it would be a long time before I could manage again.
He laughed at that, and, preliminaries over and well introduced to each other, we just lay side by side cuddling, kissing, stroking, caressing, whispering to each other, just making love in the most comfortable and unhurried way. I grasped his soft cock and massaged it gently, feeling little tremors as it tried to firm up, opening and closing the foreskin, and enjoying his little moans of pleasure. This continued for quite a while until I roused myself and got to the other end of the bed.
Now it was time to attend seriously to his reluctant penis. I slipped it into my mouth and sucked it in as far as it would go, enjoying the softness and the continued tremors. Harty was obviously enjoying it to, as he thrust in and out gently, and emitted a tiny trace of precum whose salty taste I enjoyed. Before long, I felt his mouth close over my cock and we gently wanked each other with our mouths. Lovely.
After several minutes in a delightful 69, we came to together head to head again, and softly embraced each other, peacefully exploring each other's mouths, and occasionally pressing bellies together more tightly for another little wriggle. While we gently loved each other, we chatted softly.
`I am so glad I came'
`I was really afraid you'd be disappointed'
`You had been honest enough in your profile – I was looking for a sweet loving companion, not a stud. Oh – and being black was a bit of a bonus'
The conversation was interrupted by long pauses as we just enjoyed the togetherness.
`What counts for me is your commitment and pleasure, and I felt that from our very first kiss. Anyway, I rather like having a soft cock in my mouth to play with'.
`I love the feeling of your hard-on against my belly'
I gave him another little poke, but my erection was starting to flag now – it had been a long time.
`Harty, we are just two old has-beens.'
`You have made me feel younger...'
`Bite my ear'.
He obliged with a gentle and very sexy nibble, followed by a complete engulfing of my ear in a wet morass of lips and hungry tongue which got me all of a twitch again. I pushed him onto his back and clambered on top of him. He sighed in deep pleasure and just said `go for it'.
I started to slide up and down on his belly, faster and faster. He clung onto me his nails hard into my arse cheeks. It took me a long time – it always does - and I started to wonder if I would manage to climax. The friction was wonderful in any case, and when at last I started to feel the point of no return coming I redoubled my efforts, grunting and panting until I felt the wonderful explosion, and my everything burst out onto his round tummy, seeping into his pubes, and momentarily glueing us together.
After that, I remained on top of him for an age, breathing hard at first, and then I think I must have sunk into a blissful sleep as he murmured endearments into my sodden ear.
It must have been half an hour later that I came too, still on top of him. He smiled up at me as he saw my eyes open.
`Sorry, Harty, I must be too heavy on you'.
`You can stay there for ever as far as I am concerned.'
So I stayed there, passion spent for now but well contented, until at last he roused himself and said we should have something to eat. My white spunk was still encrusted on his black belly. He pointed me towards the shower, and we went in together, embracing under the warm water, and washing each other's most intimate places.
We ate a simple Caesar salad he had prepared, and said that I needed some sexual recovery time and how about going out somewhere for a while. It seemed important to enjoy each other's company out of bed as well as in.
He proposed a visit to the Metropolitan Art Gallery, and when we had washed the dishes and had a playful little snog, we headed across to the subway and got a train up to 86th. We spent a happy afternoon wandering through the great impressionist collection, looking – in Harty's case with a very expert eye – especially at the Degas dancers, and most importantly chatting and getting to know each other as companions and friends. We were comfortable in the knowledge that we were making it sexually, that there would be more of that later, and that there was more to our weekend than that.
Later, back in his apartment, we had some supper and settled down to watch a movie. We chose Moonlight' which we had both seen before and thought to be rather a profound film. There is a particular scene I remembered from my first viewing, when the nine-year-old boy suddenly asks his mentor what's a faggot?' I recalled how the whole cinema had been shocked into silence, maybe everyone wondering how we would have answered such a question from such a young innocent who must have had the jibe thrown at him sometime. After the longest of thoughtful pauses the man replies something like it's a bad word some people use to insult gay people, and it's best ignored,' As the film moved to the final twenty-years-later reunion of the school friends, we became entwined again on the sofa, and Harty whispered: getting late – maybe it's bedtime'.
Half an hour later we lay spooned together under the bed covers, my cock nestling between his cheeks, squeezed a little from time to time as he flexed his muscles. It was relaxed, affectionate, not wild at all. We chatted.
`How long since you last managed to cum?' I asked him
Maybe two years' he told me. I had a dear friend who died. I haven't managed to even get an erection since then.'
`Your profile said two bottoms can still have fun together, and that's just what happened to us.'
`We sure have, Jim – it's been the best fun I've had for a long time'
`And a long night now for more fun when we're ready'.
Are you really a bottom?' Harty asked. You sure liked going a bit mad on top of me this morning.'
Ah, I replied, you have me there. I would love to be a top, I'd love to fuck an arse, but I've given it up because I go flop as soon as I try to put a condom on. It's easier just to say I'm bottom.'
`You haven't been going flop much with me'.
`Well you say that, and I know I get harder than you do, but it doesn't last very long as you've noticed'.
`Well, I'm not noticing right now,' he said, giving me a nice little squeeze, and true enough I had a little bit of poke, and tentatively rubbed it against his hole as he moaned appreciatively.
`That's really nice'.
`Yeah, for me too.'
`What do you do back in England? Do you have a special friend?'
`At the moment, you're the most special friend I have,' I whispered, gathering his ear into my mouth and massaging it with a very wet tongue. Then I went down the bed a bit and gave his flaccid cock the same treatment while he rubbed his fingers on my arsehole. After some more loving play, we both dropped off to a very contented sleep, wrapped around each other.
It must have been about two in the morning when I woke suddenly to find him on top of me. He had gently turned me onto my back and climbed on.
Sorry to wake you,' he said. I want to play again and I can't wait till morning.'
Then began our most tempestuous time since we had met. I hugged him close onto me, enjoying his weight and thrusting myself against him. He was jerking about on top of me. Side to side, in and out, rubbing and chafing against my belly, and kissing me deeply at the same time. I felt as if I had gone to heaven, and so it seemed did he, for I suddenly felt the unmistakeable pressure of a hardening cock scouring against mine as he gasped in growing excitement.
`Don't stop now' I panted, and he didn't, pumping furiously against me as I clutched his bum and pulled it as tight towards me as I possibly could. Who would have thought the old man had so much energy in him as he plunged up and down faster and faster, crying out with excitement until I knew his moment had come and he gave an ecstatic scream as two years-worth of jism burst out over me, and his writhing subsided into an exhausted collapse as he sank his weight onto me and kissed me fervidly as I sucked his quivering tongue deep into my mouth.
We lay in this drained embrace for a very long time before he spoke.
I can't believe it,' he said. Thankyou, thankyou, thankyou'.
And thank you' I whispered. It's not often anyone has got that excited about me. I feel privileged. And that was just so lovely.'
He was still on top of me five hours later when the daylight had crept into the room and we both awoke – at the same time it seemed – from the deepest and most satisfying of sleeps. He rubbed his stubbly face against my beard then smiled at me, his warm brown eyes gazing down at my face with gentle affection.
`Did that really happen, or was I dreaming?' he said.
We went to a small diner round the corner and had a big breakfast – we seemed to have spent a lot of energy – and all we wanted to do after that was go back to bed, so we did. The morning went by gently cuddled up, kissing and playing together. Harty got up and made coffee and we sat side by side in bed drinking it, until when it was half gone we forgot it, and turned our attention to each other again. I lay him on his back, pushed the covers aside, and went right down to his feet. I inserted his big toe into my mouth, and sucked it affectionately. Then I licked the back of his calf, the inside of his knee, and up the inside of his thighs. Then my appreciative tongue explored every inch of his groin area, and I was gratified to feel a little hardening once again in his cock as I swallowed it, and swirled it around in my throat. Then his belly, his nipples, and, to a giggle of his laughter, his armpits. Finally his ears and his sweet mouth, by which time my whole body was enveloping him and we thrust together in another delicious congress while our tongues worked overtime on each other. Then I turned him over onto his belly, and felt in my overnight bag for the bottle of Johnson's baby oil I kept there.
`Massage time'. I whispered, and poured a big slop of oil between his shoulders, rubbing it into his back and kneading with my knuckles as I went. He moaned his pleasure. Another slurp of oil onto the middle of his back, more of the same treatment, and then onto his arse which I lovingly rubbed all over before giving a final generous slurp into the crack and massaged it into the eager hole that was awaiting my attention. With a finger, I felt inside and he gasped as my finger touched the sweet spot. Soon I added another finger. The fingers played inside that hole for several minutes, pressing this, tickling that, enjoying his pleasure. Finally I removed my finger and lowered myself onto his glistening back, now slippery with oil, and massaged his whole body with all of mine. Both of us emitted little gasps of delight as we moved smoothly against each other and I felt my cock become as hard as it has ever been. Inevitably it found its way into the crack, and I couldn't resist a couple of little pokes.
Please come inside' he begged, but I said I don't want to stop to put on a condom.'
`I don't care about the condom – please push your way right in'.
Resistance was futile. I wanted so much to fully enter him, territory I had not been able to explore for years and years, and with a sudden hard thrust, I slipped in. His well-practised arsehole took it in comfort, and as for me, I was in seventh heaven as I started to thrust violently and deeper and deeper. Now there was no stopping and I pumped wildly in and out until the inevitable eruption, a couple of final plunges, and the total exhaustion.
`Stay inside,' be implored and I wasn't going anywhere anyway. We lay in a heap, in a total state of bliss. My cock was soft now, but he was working his muscles to squeeze it some more and hold it in.
After a very long time, I finally pulled out.
`Harty...'
`Don't say anything.'
`I haven't done that since I was a teenager.'
`You haven't lost your touch'.
`It was so wonderful'
We were face to face again, kissing some more of course, then he asked me to lie with my head up on three pillows.
I am a new man,' he said, I feel I can do anything'.
He sat astride my shoulders, and shoved his cock into my mouth. I felt it grow inside me, then he slowly, slowly, fucked my mouth. I could sense his excitement growing and his concentration intensifying as he moved in and out and I provided as much friction as I could with my lips and tongue. He panted as the big moment approached and suddenly there was stuff in my mouth, salty as an oyster, sweet as ice cream, gushing into my throat so fast that I had to gag for breath. He pulled out then, and we kissed once more, sharing his sweet juices in both our mouths.
We stood together on Penn Station. There was nothing much to be said now. Our friendship had reached the point where a few words were enough.
`Will you be coming to New York again?'
`In five weeks I am working in Albany, so...'
THE END