Disclaimer: This story is written about gay love, and like straight love - it doesn't stick to a plan. If you don't like that, or if you shouldn't be reading due to restrictions in your area, away you go!
Looking for feedback, feel free to mail me at: justin_nifty@outlook.com An example of the picture mentioned can be found at: http://sdrv.ms/S0qcEb
11/11/12 ----------
I'm recently separated, and have four kids. Oh, and I'm gay. Not exactly everything about me, but it's a starting point.
Having my new-found "freedom", and a desire for a man's touch took me through a series of Craigslist's finest - everyday guys looking for much the same as me I suppose. I tried everything at least once, but honestly felt like my enthusiasm wasn't making up for my lack of experience.
Ultimately, I decided this wasn't what I was about anyway - having exited a faithful monogamous relationship of almost 20 years - most of it married - I wanted a connection. Oh, sex is good - abandoning yourself to pleasure can be rewarding - but having someone who you long to see again - that's what I wanted.
So, I embarked on a new phase - the "dating" phase. Having been off the market for some time - I thought "how do I do this? Where do I start?" It didn't help that I'd never tried dating a guy before. One of my Craigslist "friends" gave me a few suggestions, and I ended up at adam4adam.com.
I made a profile, not sure about a picture, and thought about what I was doing. Was I really going to try this? As I looked around, I quickly realised the most interesting people had pictures and witty things to say in their summaries. Hmmm. Two items I'd have to think about.
Ahhh, Craigslist - that most interesting of places where almost anything can be found, but maybe you can't be too picky. I found a fellow who liked to take nude pictures of guys, and I thought - "What's the worst that can happen?" Well, there were of course quite a few things that crossed my mind, but I decided to try anyway.
Several months prior I had seen another ad on Craigslist for body sugaring, and had summoned the courage to give it a try. Greg, my "waxologist" (as I refer to him) was so matter-of-fact about what was going to happen, and what could happen, that I felt at ease. A little experience at stripping down in front of other guys helped me to just do it. With complimentary words, he proceeded to strip the hair from my "crack, sack and back", and I was smooth where I wanted to me. A little trim elsewhere, and he declared me ready to face my "fans". His easy confidence in my pick-up skills rubbed off on me, and while not muscular, not twinky, not dazzling - I felt ready too.
Well, prior to my photo-shoot, I decided I needed to be cleaned up again. Over the months we had both revealed quite a bit of our lives to each other - it must be a requirement in the beauty industry to be able to talk and have clients talk. I told him what was afoot, and he made sure to sugar my chest and tummy too - just leaving a little trail down to trimmed pubes and smoothness. I felt vain, and had been tanning too - I figured I should try to look my best - guessing I wouldn't have photos taken regularly. Again he declared me ready - but with two additional notes - how to reduce the redness, and surprisingly - a request for the photos.
After the clean-up, I returned home for a shower and my "after-care" before selecting a few undies I thought might look good. For the first time in a long time, I looked in the mirror and liked what I saw - I could handle seeing photos of myself. As I headed to the amateur photographer's place, It occurred to me - "Well, why not let Greg see them? - he's seen me naked enough that he's just wanting to see how they turn out, not gush over them."
I arrived, nervous of this guy, but wanting to challenge my inhibitions - and so I did. A series of undressing photos, a series of nudes in different poses (one of which with my face turned away, crouching - I thought of it as my "more than you expected to see, but less than you expected to see" pose), and (really pushing my limit!) a cum shot. He posted his pictures online after cropping out my face (we had discussed this previously), and I rushed to read the comments. Happily, they were positive, and Greg and I had a fun back-and-forth about the photos too, and I was pleased I'd shown them to him.
So, my profile was updated with the photo I liked, and I sat back and waited. I've never been much of an instigator - generally a bit more passive, so this was my MO. Here I was - 41, and acting like a wall-flower at a high-school dance, waiting for someone to ask me to the floor.
And they kind-of did. Or at least, there were a few browsers who I noticed browsing more than once. Some sent me messages, some didn't. Some didn't want to initiate the conversation either - honestly, these were the ones I was drawn to.
So I messaged them.
Frightened like a 12-year old kid asking someone out for the first time. Some weren't interested in friendship first, and fell by the wayside. Some didn't reply, and I suppose I fell by the wayside. Some wanted friendship and replied, and now - I was juggling trying to start dialogs with six guys - who all seemed fun, but I was interested in developing one into a relationship. How to decide which one?
It would have made sense to have some type of system for evaluating this, but I didn't. Mostly, it came down to time and effort:
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Some guys couldn't or wouldn't make the effort.
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One guy who I liked a lot lived some distance away, and we only met up for a wine tasting. We headed to my place to talk afterward - and really hit it off - but it crumbled into texting and missed opportunity.
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Another guy came over for a meal - and I really enjoyed his company, but I misread his signals and maybe came on a bit strong. Another missed opportunity, but with some regret thrown in for my forwardness.
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And another that suggested we go play pool at the local 'friendly' pool bar. Jamie wasn't sure at first what to think of me. At 4' 11", he's more than a foot shorter than me, and weighed about 2/3 of my 160 pounds. As I'd later find out, he could climb me like a monkey climbs a tree - but I'm getting ahead of myself.
Having kids means I have limited space in my schedule for socialising. Having an ex means I have limited resources. Now, I'm not the type to ask anyone to pay for a drink for me, so my options were fairly limited, and pool seemed like a fun time (I'm awful at pool, but gracious in defeat), and not too expensive. Jamie could meet on a Thursday (my kids usually came over on Friday for the weekend), so this was ideal.
We had an idea of what to expect of each other - face pictures and stats were exchanged, and we easily met up outside the pool bar and struck up conversation. He was also quite the pool player, and I slowly improved. The tension was mounting between us, but I wanted to remain cool at just playing pool, and having a few beers.
How it happened, I'm not sure. We were outside the bar having a smoke one night, and seemingly before I knew it, he was perched on my lap and we were making out. Flashbacks again to that 12-year old, but perhaps this time I knew a little more what to do. What seemed like an hour (and in reality was probably a few minutes) passed, and we went back in and played pool.
We talked about it, and agreed it was good, but I wanted to keep my "prospects" at arm's length for a while - try to decide if they really did like me, or were just after one thing.
I should point out during this time, I was still randomly hooking up. Call me what you will, but young, hung, black guys seemed to do it for me then. I'm the type of guy that usually burns to a crisp in the sun unless I'm slathered with sunscreen - but confident youngish dark-skinned guys are a weakness... Until that kiss, I figured it was OK - there was really nothing more than a budding friendship.
Well, that changed. We started meeting for pool twice a week, and occasionally repeated our previous play, with a little "second-base" action too. I was a little uncomfortable about this - outside a bar with what I felt must be a hundred leering eyes turned our way. It seemed cheap, but also - a little exciting. It didn't seem right any more to meet with any "hookups", and some "friends" lost "benefits".
It sounds like I'm a bit of a man-whore - and I don't think so. I suppose I was trying to make up for lost time. While married, I might have looked, but I never touched another man (or woman either). Without any commitments right then, it seemed fair to take a sampling from the buffet.
Usually, I'd give Jamie a quick peck on the cheek before we'd both head home - work the next day, but on one occasion, neither of us had work, and we ended up sharing some wine at my place.
I like wine, and have consumed it for a while, so I suppose I have a high tolerance. Jamie didn't have that tolerance, and soon became unable to drive home. It wasn't a ploy on my part - it just happened. Really, there was probably a lot that night he was unable to do - it caught up with him quickly being a smaller guy. I put him to bed in my bed - I had him stripped down to boxer briefs and tucked him in.
Things were certainly taking a turn I hadn't anticipated happening so soon. I still had dates with other guys lined up, and it all started to feel a bit messy. Well, shit happens.
I could hear him softly snoring, and figured then was as good a time as any to jump in beside him - in my own boxer briefs - and get some sleep. I really didn't plan on trying anything - it was possible he'd make a decision in the night that he'd regret in the morning (haven't we all been there?) - and that's no way to start a relationship.
And so we slept. I hadn't slept beside someone in years. It's something you miss.
With the morning came the sun. With the sun came the wood. As we both woke up it became obvious that boxer briefs, while comfortable, leave little to the imagination when stretched.
Jamie was mostly smooth all over, and didn't have much padding anywhere. He looked happy to see me that morning based on the boxer briefs. I'd recently been to my waxologist, so I was pretty smooth too, but by comparison, I felt a little thick around the middle, and maybe a few inches happier to see him.
We talked for a bit, and both agreed a date with the toothbrush was the first order of the day. Having kids meant I had spares (they are always losing them), so that worked out OK. We had a shower and looked over each other. Short but muscular legs ended at a perfect little ass which eventually tapered up to his small back and reasonably defined arms. A quick turnaround, and I stared at his dark nipples until my gaze confirmed my earlier estimation.
I imagine he was doing much the same. I'm not well-defined, but I mostly bulge where I should, and don't where I shouldn't. I was straining for relief, so probably looked a little more impressive than usual. Soaping up didn't change matters much.
The shower done, we toweled off, skipped clothes, had coffee, breakfast happened, but inevitably, we had other prior commitments, and we left it there. No release, but a lot of tension. And yes, he did climb me like a monkey climbs a tree.
--
We decided wine wasn't a good choice moving forward - it didn't really agree with him, and while I was sober as a judge in the morning, the seed was sown the previous night that we'd get naked and mess around at sunup. "Too fast" I thought as I headed off to a different date that evening.
We kept playing pool during the week, and due to work commitments left it at the peck on the cheek at his car. Usually we'd try to wear something that might put the other off their game, and were sometimes the subject of looks or outright gawks from some of the other patrons. I tend to think he received more looks than I did, but it was fun anyway.
One night, I noticed a guy (a kid really) that seemed to be watching me during his breaks in play. Flattered, I may have raised an eyebrow his way. On this night, I left Jamie with a peck - but instead of turning to my car, turned back to the bar. Not usually the initiator, but already with some Dutch courage - I strode up to the bar next to this guy and said "I think I'll just have one more", and turned to him.
Such a sweet face, a charming southern accent, and a body closer to my size if a little leaner. How could I not ask him for a game? Just to get to know him better of course. Of course. We played, and he was a shark. He let me win once or twice, but it would have been obvious to a blind man that he was doing so. I loved it.
Near closing time, Troy (as I now knew his name) and I were back at the bar, pool cues put away, and taking a shot of whiskey. Not my favorite, but I like to be friendly. As soon as the fiery liquid went down my throat, there was another intrusion in my mouth. The sweet face was on mine and the rest of the world disappeared. As cliched as it sounds - it did. I felt like a kid, eyes closed, leaning back, being passionately kissed - by this young man who had figuratively and now literally taken my breath away.
As I surfaced to reality, I became aware of the bartender and barflies alike - this was a place I frequented with another guy, and we'd been seen in a similar position outside. How was this going to work out? No matter - he kissed me again.
Neither of us should have driven home, but my place was significantly closer to the bar, and after the last call we knew we didn't have to go home, but we couldn't stay there. I ended up taking us home, and on the way he mentioned that he's HIV+. Undetectable, but it's there. I said "I guess we'll have to make really sure we're safe then, if anything is going to happen." Despite the beers and the shot we weren't the least bit sleepy upon our arrival.
Thinking about it, I could read it either way - was it unfair to tell me once we were already in the car on the way home? I don't think so - I appreciated his honesty, and his courage in revealing something - that while absolutely necessary to share - can't have been easy. I figure it's one aspect of him - it doesn't define him. Sure, it defines what we can do sexually - but there's a whole lot more to both of us than that.
As it turned out, we talked, I asked inappropriate questions, we kissed, and went to lay down.
He leaned in, and just breathed heavily in my ear, sending waves of sexual electricity from my head to my toes. I wanted this man; I wanted him to come back. I kissed him again, sucking at his lips, teasing them. I kissed his neck and he stretched out giving me more to love.
Our shirts off, I went to his armpits - little hair, lot of deodorant, but I kissed them and took in the smell of him. His sweet nipples begged for attention, and it was given - swirling tongue, gentle teeth, full mouth kisses.
I made my way down his smooth torso - just a few hairs on his chest, and a trail to happiness. I could smell his musk - and I was getting turned on seeing him harden and fill out his briefs.
Oh for more, more!
He pulled me back up, and our lips met, our tongues danced. I felt his desire on mine, and it felt so right. He nibbled at my ear, all the while his heavy breath thrilling me with his urgency, his passion. I arched my back under him, my hands lightly touching his back and perfect ass, still covered in his briefs. It was my turn to have my body examined, licked, tasted, tested.
Slowly, he rubbed his hands through the trimmed chest hair, as if never having seen it before. He caressed my nipples, sucking at them, kissing them - I writhed in ecstasy. As he started downward, his hands seemed to have a sense of urgency as he massaged my sides, and slipped them down to my lower back. He's kissing my belly button, brushing against my still-covered groin with his cheek, and I'm stretching out, almost gyrating.
My need to kiss him again became desperate - and as he shucked his way back to me I felt the anticipation reach its height - but there he was, his sweet face near mine, and we kissed like we were the only two people who knew how.
Oh, to have more!
But we would be safe, and slept. The next morning I made breakfast (when you have a guest, you have to treat them properly), and drove him back to the bar to his car. I was letting him go, but not without his number.
Why was I falling for this guy - and falling fast? Sure, he was beautiful to me - physically, emotionally; he was blessed with a silver tongue that always knew what to say; he seemed so innocent, although clearly he wasn't. I still can't explain it - but I knew I was falling.
He was going to be in town one day for a job interview - I jumped at the chance to see him again, even for a short time. I convinced him to meet me for a coffee after the interview. He arrived around the time I did, and was wearing pin-striped black pants, and a black shirt with four buttons undone, and a crisp white undershirt. I think my legs melted for a moment. We talked for an hour or more over coffee, my eyes scanning his face, seeing every feature again.
Of course, I had to go back to work, he had to go home again. The gentleman that he was, he walked me to my car. Now the town we live in isn't as gay-friendly as say, San Francisco. He gave me a passionate kiss goodbye outside the coffee house. No sensationalism, no show - just a kiss.
Just a kiss? Not at all. That he kissed me out in public was more than I expected, and left me wanting more again. Whether he knew it or not, he had me hooked. And done it in such a quiet, gentle, small way.
In the meantime, one of my daughters came to live with me for a while. Some argument with her mother - I understood that. This was going to make things a little more difficult as far as socialising went, but we'd already talked about dad being a little different from other kids' dads, so I was hopeful.
One weekend, when I just had this daughter at home, I'd arranged for Troy to come over to join us for dinner. I was somewhat worried what she would think - Troy is 12 years younger than me - and her dad really was a gay guy. Still, I decided "sooner rather than later", and Troy was willing to go along with it, and meet her.
Adding to my concern - Jamie called and wanted to come over to talk the same day. He had some roommate issues and needed to let it out. I was really in a spin - but I did still want a friendship with Jamie, so over he came. We talked for a while, my daughter and he picked on me mercilessly. Thankfully, he left before Troy came over.
When Troy did arrive, we had a glass of wine or two, and I made Thai curry and noodles. It was a great evening, and my daughter liked him. A was still a little hesitant for too many "public displays of affection" in front of my daughter, and so we kissed briefly as he went to his car to take the trip home. That my daughter approved too confirmed for me - this was no Mr Right Now, he could be Mr Right.
Over the next few weeks, we met up regularly at my place, for a meal, conversation, and a little fooling around. I'd decided my daughter was a woman of the world (at the ripe age of 13), and could handle seeing her dad happy. We were discreet about anything more than a kiss, but she's no-one's fool - it was obvious I was smitten, and I was going to hear about it from her.
I loved to watch him sleep - like an angel, his head on the pillow, his pristine hair not so pristine anymore. I'd trace the small tattoo on his back, kissing him lightly enough that I didn't wake him, but just enough to sate my appetite for him a little longer. My apartment smells like him the next day - sure it's mostly his deodorant, but with something else that is just him. I'm finding focus on any task difficult.
I had to tell Jamie. He'd already initiated a discussion about a "non-exclusive" relationship - and I wasn't exactly a fan. When I want to commit, I expect commitment back. I'd already mentioned that I was seeing a couple of different guys as "prospects" - except for him, I'd kept my hands and lips to myself with them. He'd been honest with me about what he wanted, and I had to respect that.
Before Jamie and I played pool again one night, I told him. It wasn't him, it wasn't me - it was just ... what could I say? Troy wasn't one of my "prospects" at all, but I felt like I was in love. He'd asked me to be his boyfriend!
I'm not sure what I said exactly, but my pool-playing was appalling that night. Every time I was supposed to break - I scratched - white ball, corner pocket. Every one - I was really off my game. We talked outside for some time in my car, and I wanted to give him his little peck goodbye, when he leaned in, grabbed the back of my head, and kissed me with all his might, taking me by surprise. His free hand reached towards my crotch, and I had to put a stop to it. I couldn't do this - I was committed to the new man in my life, and that was that.
A strange evening to say the least, and we agreed to just play pool - but there was some relief that I'd been honest and fair to everyone. And now, I felt like Troy and I could move forward.
But that's another story.