DISCLAIMER: This story is true. It is not for anyone looking to "get off" quickly, so if that is your purpose, please try another story.
THE HEALING POWER OF SEX by RimPig 2003
This is a story that I've told some people privately. I didn't expect to ever share it with all of my readers but I feel that maybe it's time I did. It is a story that illustrates what I feel about sex - as if you all didn't have some idea from all my stories already! But this, I think, goes deeper into what I believe is the tremendous healing power of sex.
It happened one Saturday afternoon at the bath house that I go to on a regular basis. Saturday afternoons is a time very popular with older, oftentimes married, men. They come looking for sex with another male because, I suppose, they are from that generation of men who couldn't "come out" because it was long before "Stonewall" and the Gay Rights Movement. They buried their feelings for other males, married and had children. They probably, when the rare occasion arose, had clandestine encounters with other men. Now that they were retired, and the end of their lives was looming, they wanted what they have wanted all their lives and were never free to get. The baths are a real boon for them because they can finally express their true desires.
For those of you who don't know, I love leather - especially black leather. You might say it is one of my fetishes. Males in black leather turn me on all to hell! In fact, the very first story I posted to NIFTY was about such a male (LEATHER MASTER - GAY/AUTHORITARIAN). I used to love to wear leather in the baths - harness, armbands, chaps, jock and boots - but I stopped because it, first of all, scared too many guys off thinking that I wanted to beat the hell out of them or something. It also sent the wrong "message". I am NOT into S/M sex. Oh, I've tried it, tried a lot of it. Those who know me will tell you - I'll try ANYTHING at least twice! Just in case I didn't get it the first time! But I came to realize that where my true sexuality lay was in what is called 'fetish' sex. My fetishes are the scents of a man's body, raunch and watersports.
At any rate, that afternoon, I was laying on the bed in my room at the baths with the door open. Room 6, my favorite room. I was wearing my leather harness, arm bands and jock and looked really sexy - if I do say so myself. I must have been, too, from what happened.
He was older than me, I would say mid-to-late 60's. Tall with a full mane of thick white hair. The hair on his chest and groin were 'salt-and-pepper' showing that he'd been dark haired in his younger days. He had an air of elegance about him such that, even in just a white towel, he 'screamed' Gentleman! The old fashioned kind of true Gentleman that always made me sit up and take notice! Men who are kind and gracious, men with 'manners'. Men, who when you get them in bed, truly live up to the title "Gentle Men".
As a boy, my father, who suffered from mental illness (something I didn't learn until after his death) would have nothing to do with me. He showed me no affection - either verbal or physical. It lead me to an attraction to these older men - to find the older male affection that I so missed as a child. A "Daddy" I could 'please' - something I could never do with my own father, no matter how hard I tried. A man who would hold me gently and lovingly and make me feel protected and desired. It's not that I don't love men my own age - or even younger. It's that sometimes I need that affection that only an older man can give.
At any rate, this man kept passing my room. Now, one or two passes can mean anything. They could just be cruising and doesn't mean they are particularly interested in you. But this man was passing my room on a regular basis - every few minutes - and staring at me with what I knew was 'hunger' in his eyes. He wanted me. I knew it. But he would never come near the door! It was as if he was afraid of me. I later figured out that the leather had intimidated him - as well as my age, being more than 20 years younger then him at the time. Like all men, but particularly older men, he feared rejection. In a 'youth culture' like the Gay world, being over 60 is NOT a desirable position, unfortunately. How much gay men miss by only wanting sex with young males - males who, yes, have 'tighter' bodies and more eager sexual demands but who, oftentimes, know very little really of sex. Know almost nothing about pleasing another man and who, too often, are only on a selfish hunt to 'get their rocks off' - usually as quickly as possible so they can get on to the next 'trick'.
I tried everything I knew to get this man to come into my room - or at least stop long enough to talk. But, no. He kept passing by, most of the time walking slowly so that his eyes could drink in more of me. I don't consider myself anything special in the 'looks department' by the way, but some men find me 'cute' and 'sexy'. Thank God! This was evidently one of those men.
To be honest, after a while, I got annoyed at his lack of courage in approaching me. Plus, I was having sex with a number of men who were not the least bit afraid to cum into my room and play. But each time I opened the door, there he was again - walking by, staring.
It began to dawn on my testosterone addled brain that this man was spending so much time walking past my door and looking at me, that he'd more than likely had no sex that day. His entire 'fixation' was on me. I knew that I had to do something, because the afternoon was getting later and I knew that was when many of the older men had to go home to their wives. (I've always wondered where it was they told their wives they were? I've never asked one of them. Maybe I will next time.) I didn't want him to go home 'unfulfilled'. And so I decided to take matters into my own hands.
I waited until his next 'pass' and then I got up out of the bed and stood at the door, knowing he'd be around again shortly. This time, when he passed, he was shocked to see me standing staring back. I could see in his eyes the shock and knowledge that he'd been 'busted'. I looked at him and said, in my sternest voice, "Get the hell in here!".
I don't know where the forcefulness came from, but he actually stopped dead in his tracks and then moved towards the door. I moved aside so he could enter the small room and then closed and locked the door behind him. He looked at me with fear in his eyes.
"Look...uhh...I'm not into...umm..." he sputtered.
"Neither am I. Leather doesn't always mean S & M. I happen to like wearing it because it makes me feel sexy and I think you think it makes me look sexy, too!" I said.
He smiled then.
"Yes, it does." he said quietly.
"So why didn't you come in on your own then?" I asked.
"Well...to be honest...I didn't think you'd want an old codger like me." he said.
I moved over very close to him, put my hands on his chest and began playing in the abundant, thick hair (something I love to do with older men) and looked up into his eyes. (Yes, 'up'! He was over 6 foot tall and I'm barely 5'6".)
"You mean you thought I wouldn't want an attractive, mature MAN like you?" I asked, smiling up at him.
His eyes widened at this and his arms went around me. Oh, fuck! It felt so good to be in his arms. Safe, secure, desired! I could feel his hardening cock pressing against me through his towel which he still had on. I reached down and pulled it from him and gently stroked his cock. Uncut! My favorite! (As many of you know!)
I reached up and put my arms around his neck and pulled him down so that I could kiss him. Gently at first, our lips met in a very 'chaste' kiss. Then he pressed his mouth to mine and the kiss became much more passionate! With each passing moment, his cock became harder and harder - as did mine. I broke the kiss and he looked at me with disappointment written all over his face. I smiled up at him and moved onto the bed, pulling him in with me.
He held me and we kissed and gently touched each other for a long time. I finally pushed him on his back and began moving my mouth down his body. He tried to keep hold of me, to continue to try to reach parts of my body to play with, but I was having none of that at the moment.
"Just lay back. This is for you." I said, and he did.
I licked and sucked at his tits, I nuzzled into his underarms and I think I may have been the first person ever to lick his pits. At least, that's what I got from his reaction! I thought he was going to lose it right there and then! I quickly moved down his belly, flat for someone his age, and moved to his hard cock. I played with the foreskin with my lips and teeth and he was moaning how nobody knew how to play with his 'skin' and how did I? I just chuckled to myself. It was about time that someone did this man right!
His cock was about seven inches and quite thick. Too thick for me to deep throat but I didn't have any concern. I knew that what I could do with my mouth would probably drive him insane! I took it in my mouth and began to lovingly bathe it with my tongue, moving up and down it as he ran his fingers through my hair and groaned at the feelings I was sending through his body. I had a feeling that it had probably been awhile since he'd had sex and probably wouldn't last long. I moved down to his balls, licking and sucking on them and then nibbling on the sack. He appeared to love this as well.
When I figured I'd 'tortured him enough' and he needed to cum, I moved back up and took his cock back in my mouth, my tongue moving faster and faster, bathing the entire organ as my mouth moved up and down in a quicker rhythm than before. I could feel his whole body tensing and then I heard a very loud groan escape his lips as his cock shot two very healthy loads of thick, slimy cum into me. I tasted it and left it in my mouth as he continued to jerk and spasm on the bed in more dry convulsions of cumming. When he finally calmed down and my mouth was gently nursing at his spent cock, then I swallowed his load. It wasn't huge, but it was satisfying.
I moved back up the bed and he put his arms around me, hugging me tightly to him. We kissed and he could taste himself in my mouth. I pulled away from his mouth and lay my head on his chest while he held me and gently stroked my head, my neck and my back as far as he could reach. This was my favorite time - the afterglow - the time when the demands of horniness and passion had been sated and the gentler, more tender side of males is revealed.
I don't know how long we lay there, probably a good half an hour. Him holding me and me, basking in the joy of being held so tenderly. I guess he felt obligated to return the 'favor'.
"Do you want me to do you now?" he asked.
I could tell, both by tone of voice and by what he said, that he would do so if I demanded it but he really wasn't 'into' it now. Once males, particularly older males, cum it is a long time until they can 'recover' and get horny again.
"No, I'm fine. You're doing what I wanted." indicating that holding me was all I wanted from him.
He finally said that he had to go, he had to go home. I didn't ask any questions. I knew what that meant. Time to go home to his wife, who had never really fulfilled him but never knew why. I could see the simple gold band on his hand, the skin grown up around it showing that it had been there a very long time.
He kissed me gently one more time and murmured, "Thank you."
I looked into his eyes and said, "No, thank you!" and then smiled.
He left and I lay there, figuring that I'd probably not see him again that day. Maybe never again because we get a lot of 'tourists' here in Fort Lauderdale and a lot of them find their way to the baths. I'd never seen him before and figured that was the case. And I think I was right because I never saw him again after that day. But I did see him again that day. About 15 minutes later. He came back to my room. The door was still open and I was still lying on the bed resting. He was all dressed - a polo shirt and hideous plaid Bermuda shots with sandals - which is what made me figure him for a tourist. It was neither 'shorts' nor 'sandals' weather to those of us who live here year round.
He, again, leaned down over me and gently kissed me - this time on the forehead. Then he once again murmured, "Thank you." This time I only smiled.
I watched him as he walked away up the hallway to leave. His back was straight, his shoulders thrown back and his step had a kind of 'jaunt' in it. I could tell from his body language that he was feeling good! Feeling like 'a man' again! Feeling wanted and desired for his virility and not despised and rejected for his age.
A warm rush of joy went through me as I watched, knowing that I had given him this gift through the beautiful, simple act of loving and tender sex. A gift I give so easily and willingly and which can change a man's entire outlook on life - if only for a little while. This is what makes sex beautiful to me. This is what makes it one of life's greatest 'healers of souls'.
I hope and pray that each of you experience this 'healing' in your own lives.
RimPig
I hope you liked this true story. I know it is very different than the stories you are used to from me. But I hope you found something in it to please you. If you did, write me at rimpigfl@yahoo.com
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