New Orleans Rimmer
One afternoon in the seventies I found myself in a small bathhouse in the heart of New York City. As I wandered through the maze of corridors, I noticed a handsome young black guy watching me. He followed me into the showers, and later seemed again to be keeping close tabs on me as I cruised through the orgy room.
I was primarily a voyeur, and rarely (well let's say infrequently) got into sex scenes. Most often I would entertain myself by observing all the goings on at the baths and other gathering places for anonymous sex, and go home without having had any direct contact with anyone.
But on this day my black admirer was quite insistent, and approached me. We groped, played tickle-tickle, pat-pat, and then I was prepared to drift off as was my usual practice. But my new friend, Claude, was having none of that; he continued to follow me around. I was of course flattered. He was perhaps ten or twelve years younger than I, very well built and quite attractive. I told Claude that I was married, did not usually participate very actively at these places and that my hesitation was nothing personal. He was undeterred, and continued to court me. I was puzzled and said that there were several much younger better looking guys there. What, I wondered, was my particular attraction for him? It seems that he thought that my movements and manner were "masculine" and he was looking for a "butch daddy." I noticed that he had been staring at my hairy ass in the shower earlier. I decided to allow some more sexplay. We found a relatively quiet area in the orgy room, and shared some manual and oral attention. He was a good cocksucker, and I guess I was getting better at it too, since I had been receiving no complaints of late. Feeling Claude's wiry pubic hair brush my nose as I sucked him was a novel and enjoyable experience.
After a short time, I stopped, thanked Claude, and left the orgy room. A little while later we ran into each other again in a hallway. Claude blocked my path with a smile, and said that since I insisted on being a closet queen we should go into a nearby broom closet. It was a big broom closet filled with mops and brooms and a clean-up bucket. It provided privacy and had a certain coziness about it. It was really not comfortable however for any extended activity, so we eventually returned to the comfort of a bed in the orgy room. Claude and I picked up our romance where we had left off. We began to talk and tell each other about ourselves a bit. Claude, it developed, was visiting New York from New Orleans. I told him that I was local, and we spoke a lot about New Orleans, a place that I had only recently visited. We got around to sexual preferences and I told Claude of my modest, rather conservative sexual likes. He went along with all my preferences, saying that he liked touching and kissing and fondling and squeezing and sucking as well, and he also LOVED fucking. I kind of chose to ignore this revelation.
In a while, Claude wordlessly encouraged me to turn over. I figured that he wanted to feel my ass, as I often liked to do with others. But no, after brief manual attention, Claude was kissing it wetly and going closer and closer to the hole. I had heard about rimming but had never been rimmed. Looks like I was going to finally get initiated into rear oral attention. Yep; that's exactly what he had in mind. Hey this feels pretty good. I could get to like this. Hope he doesn't expect me to reciprocate.
Little did I realize at the time, that a common reason for rimming is to prepare the anus for fucking. Sure enough, after a little while Claude was whispering sweet nothings in my ear concerning his ramming his considerable black dick up my butt. Well, that snapped me out of my reverie pretty fast. (If you read a former episode in this series, you will recall that another bathhouse acquaintance tried but failed to get my ass cherry. That guy, Ned, happened to be very polite and backed off when I asked him to. I had no assurance that Claude would take no for an answer as easily.)
After Claude had his big pink tongue up my ass about a yard and a half for several minutes, he withdrew to ask if he could replace it with something a bit stiffer.
"Ah, no - definitely not," I told him without hesitation. "I don't do that." After several attempts, and extensive rimming, Claude realized that I meant it. We settled for a mutual jerk off. Claude had a thing about seeing a guy come on his body, and that little preference I could handle nicely. So I splattered globs of white cum all over his stomach and leg and he returned the favor on my hairy chest.
He was quite good natured about my off limits asshole and invited me to New Orleans anyway.