I have been bi-sexual in thought, if not in practice for nearly all my 44 years. I had crossdressed in my sister's clothes until my teenaged years, and would remember always the first time that I had an other penis in my mouth. It was my 17 year old cousins, when I was hairless and 12. I would not perform that act again, despite the nearly daily brief thought two decades later, at a movie theater in Troy, NY.
I may soon write about both experiences following those events but for now, I'd just like to get down the most recent, and fifth time with a man.
I work like most people, at a job that bores me, where I am underpaid and overworked and blah blah blah... honestly I am a robot waiting for a cash pellet to drop in my dish so that I will be trained to keep coming back instead of learing yo forage for myself and know true freedom.
The moments I dream of, that get me through this daily waste of breaths are the moments where I can feel my heart flutter because the sexual energy from my daydream has left me with a damp feeling that only happens when pre-cum leaks from the excitement and lack of release.
Sometimes these thoughts are of women and often men. Older men. All races, but mature. Nearly always they are Tops and I am their hungry oral slave. Faceless salt and pepper gentlemen who treat me kindly as they teach me what they like. Finally releasing on my face. Discreet men who keep my secret fantasies.
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So about two years ago, I was on a website for men who are looking for sexual adventures. I was 40 years old at the time. Husky, masculine and hungry for a discreet experience with a guy who bn couod be a regular buddy. Start with an online flirtation and procede from there. I'd performed oral sex on 4 men prior to this. I knew from past experience that this would amount to a chat that one of us would make the initial offer to meet, and then either he or I would back out. Dozens of past connections led me to the conclusion that many of the gay/bi/curious men on line were more interested in the fantasy, rather than the actual sexual activity. I had liked a profile of a 56 year old man from San Antonio, TX. The town in which I lived at the time. He was an outdoorsy looking guy, with an impressive looking cock- it turned out to be 8 1/4 inches long when I eventually measured it.
We chatted back and forth with the usual pleasantries.
"How are you?"
"I am well, yourself?"
The usual back and forth that is part of a courting process that would maybe lead to a real connection.
He eventually asked what I was into.
"Sucking cock and getting facials."
He didn't return my message. I kept refreshing my inbox. Nothing. Later that evening I saw his name in the new message and opened it to find to meet at Starbucks in Shavano Park. We agreed to meet on the patio I figured worst case scenario is I got a little caffine.
I jumped in the shower, and wanted to clean up, washing my self. My heart beating so hard. I get bnb out of the shower and look at my naked body. I'm soft. I have the muscle still, but covered with enough fat to be giggly. I hesitate.
"Do you want to see him reject you. It happened before. Do you want to feel that again."
I was second guessing myself. Gay men want that physical perfection, and maybe that was what turned me off from being more proactive in meeting others. The sense that I would be pushed away. I said, "Fuck it," and got dressed.
Anyone else out there get that lightheaded feeling on your way to meet someone for the express purpose of sexual activity? A mini panic attack that makes you so hard. The whole ride I feel as though I could barely breathe.
I show up at the Starbucks, it's busy. And from the photo he sent me via message I see Max outside. I walk up and say, "Hi, Max?"
"Jamie?"
"Yeah, nice to meet you."
I sit down, looking about to see if there are any other familiar faces. My fear that someone sees me and my secret is revealed. That I crave dick. Cock. Penis. That the women I have shared my bed with are a distraction from what I really want. To bring pleasure to a man. To taste his hard cock in my mouth.
Max can sense my nervousness. He is not out, married, and looks like he blends well. I barely hear him say "No one is paying attention to us. Relax."
I take a deep breath and the conversation begins to flow. Slightly flirtatious. It has the feel of a first date, and one that is going well. We drink some cafe Americanas and he asks me if I want to see his woodshop, which we had talked about.
I agree to follow him and we go to his home which is a mile and a half away. Its a friday and his wife is working at the hospital till midnight. We can have some privacy for a few hours to "talk".
I park my car in his drivway, a long one which shows an expensive looking house on a couple of acres, and clearly he has money. The woodahop is around back by the pool and sauna. He unlocks the door and I walk in and walk towards the bench. Max comes up behind me and I can feel his hands on my shoulders. He slides them down my arms and over my hips. Wrapping his arms around me, he pushes his hard cock into the top of my thigh. Grinding while kissing my neck. Im so aware of every sensation that is happening but i feel like I am floating overhead, watching this unfold.
He turns my head and kisses me. I feel his tongue go into my mouth and connect with mine. We kiss for several minutes my arms going around his neck. I feel passive, and as he pushes my hand down to the front of his jeans, I do not resist rubbing my hand over a clearly large and erect cock. Slowly dropping to my knees, I unbuckle his pants and undo the button. Unzipping his pants I slide his pants and boxer briefs down as his cock springs up, the fat mushroom head leaving a thin trail of precum over my cheak. I grasp his dick with first one and then two hands. Slowly jerking him and as I look up, he smiles and puts his hand behind my head, urging my face forward and with an open mouth I take the spongy head in my mouth, sucking softly.
"Ummm, good boy," he moans as he begins to hump my sucking mouth. I have down this before, and know what I am doing, but his moans are great to hear. I reach up and feel his heavy sac, and gently massage it with my hand while the other strokes his shaft in time to my lips sliding up and down his thick cock.
I can taste him leaking in my mouth. It's not an unfamiliar taste and not at all unpleasent. I equate each drop to pleasure that I am creating and can feel my own hard cock leaking.
Max suddenly tenses, and grabbing the sides of my head and forcing too much into my throat. I gag and feel the pulsing that is his release. One, two, three spurts and then a trail of warmth in my mouth. I inadvertantly swallow half before pulling my mouth off and drooling the rest down the front of my shirt. He ahakes and moans and I know I just satisfied "my man." I feel almost proud.
Max offers me a hand and i stand up, he takes a finger and wipes the cum from my chin and holding the finger offers me more of his salty cream. I suck the cum from his finger and swallow more. Im a dirty cocksucker. A fag. A queer.
Max brings me some paper towel and i clean up. I make up some half assed excuse and tell him that I will call soon. I drive off and pull into a walmart parking lot, where I lean my seat back and begin to sob. The guilt I feel for loving a man's cock in my mouth is almost too much, especially because I know I want to do it again, and maybe even use my tight asshole to bring him pleasure. I begin to smile.
I look down at my phone and see that Max messaged me.
"Let's get coffee again soon."
I message him back.
"Most definately."
We have had coffee a dozen times now.