This is the fictional memoir of a gay man, told in the first person. Some of the stories in this series are based on actual experiences, usually embellished a lot, as well as completely fictional ones. They depict sex between consenting adult males. If this offends you, do not read them. These are my stories. Please respect the copyright. If you enjoy them, let me know at johntheartist@hotmail.com. Please Contribute to Nifty.org and keep this wonderful resource going!
This is the third in a series of books that began with C'est La Vie! (1970-1997), and continued with One Thousand Men (1998). Th stories in this book start in 1999 and continue to the present. I hope you like them!
What A Life! 12
2007, Philly Cowboy
It was Saturday night. I had been to a dinner party with a group of friends. I was enjoying myself, but feeling like I wanted a bigger bang than just charming conversation and good food. One of my regular fuck-buddies, Carl, was there too. We probably got together a couple of times a month and had been doing that for a couple of years. The party was winding down around 10:30, and Carl asked if I wanted a ride home to my place in the historic district in Philly.
"Sure, thanks," I replied. We said our thank-yous to our host and left.
On the way into town, Carl said, "You know, I think I'll go to Woody's for a bit and see if I can find some action for the night."
"Good idea," I replied, "and if we don't find any there, we can do worse than with each other," I concluded with a grin.
"Yeah," he grinned back.
When we got to Woody's the place was crowded, like it is every Saturday. Just as we came in, two guys got up from the bar to leave, arms around each other and obvious bulges in their pants. We grabbed their stools, and as soon as we could get his attention, ordered a couple of lagers from the bartender. He brought them in a minute, and in the meantime, Carl and I surveyed the scene for friends or hot prospects.
Now, Carl and I are both pushing 50. We are both in good shape--slim, energetic, reasonably handsome--but no mistaking it, we are not boys anymore. Fortunately, Woody's has something for everyone, and so we can still make out all right there most evenings. Anyway, as I said, we had each other and so there was no real pressure.
After sipping our beers for a minute, Carl nudged my arm and said out of the side of his mouth as he looked across the oval bar to the other side, "John, I think you have a fan club over there!"
"Huh?" I said, and he nudged me again and nodded his head across the bar.
Sitting there were two men in their 20s. One was dark haired and the other had bleached-blond hair and face a little like Jake Gyllenhaal. The dark-haired man was talking intently to the blond, and every once in a while looking in my direction, while the blond stole a glance every so often. When he noticed me looking back, he turned sheepishly to his friend. I could swear that I saw him blush.
Right then, Carl saw a guy he knew and left, saying he would catch me later. At the same time, the dark-haired guy caught the attention of another 20-something and left the blond guy. A few seconds later, I caught him stealing a peek at me again, and I smiled back at him.
I called the bartender over and said "I want to buy a lager for my blond friend over there," pointing out the blond guy.
The bartender smiled and took him a beer. They had a little conversation, and the bartender pointed at me. I smiled and raised my bottle, and the blond sheepishly did the same and smiled in return. I nodded, moving my head sideways in an invitation for him to join me and he smiled broadly and got up to make his way toward me.
As he came around the end of the bar, I could see him better. He was tall--maybe 6'1"--slim, with a boyish figure, and was wearing a western shirt, fitted jeans than showed nicely developed thighs, like a bicycler's. His jeans showed a respectable package, and he was wearing cowboy boots. The whole outfit was a bit unusual for Philly, but I liked it, especially the snap-front shirt that I knew I could pull open easily when I had the chance.
"Jerry" he said as he came toward me.
I took his hand I said "John."
"This is my first time here" he said.
"Where are you from that you have never been to Woody's?" I asked.
"Phoenix," he said.
"That explains the shirt and boots! And what brings you to Philly?" I responded.
"My friend and I were looking to take a trip together and I came across an ad for Philly that said `Get Your History Straight and Your Nightlife Gay'," Jerry said. "We started looking into a trip here and realized that we would both probably have a great time. We just got in this afternoon."
"And what was that little conversation that you and your friend were having just now?" I asked, with a twinkle in my eye.
Jerry blushed and looked down at his boots and said "Well, I kind of have a thing for gray-haired men," he said "and my friend was saying why don't I try to meet you? So I guess it happened without me really trying, didn't it?"
"So now that you've met me, how about getting to know each other better?" I said. "I only live a twenty-minute walk away, if you want to come over."
"Yeah, I'd like that," Jerry replied. "Let me tell my friend what's up." He went off to find him in the crowd and was back a minute later.
"He's all over some college dude, so he wanted our room for his own adventures anyway," he said.
I got up, patted him on his nice round ass, and we headed out the door and walked mostly in silence to my loft. I opened the door to my loft and stood aside to let him in, enjoying the view of his nice firm, full ass as he walked into the living room area. I gestured for him to sit on the sofa, and asked him if he wanted a beer or would like to smoke some weed.
"Yeah, weed would be great," he said, and I went off to the bedroom to get it.
When I came back, he was sitting slouched back on the sofa, with his legs apart, and he really looked hot: long, lanky, fresh and eager. I lit the joint, took a toke, and passed it to him, then sat down next to him. We smoked for a few minutes until the joint was just a short spec of a roach, and I was feeling really mellow and getting really horny.
By this time, I couldn't keep my hands to myself. I put the end of the joint in an ashtray and, putting my arm around his shoulder and pulling him gently to me I said softly "Now, about getting to know each other betterÉ." to which he smiled a bit less sheepishly and leaned into my kiss.
Jerry was a terrific kisser; his lips were soft and pliable, and his tongue wrapped itself around mine and explored all the nooks and crannies of my mouth. My cock was throbbing in anticipation of what those lips would feel like on it. But I didn't really care if he was a top or bottom. I knew we would have a hot time whatever his preferences.
As we kissed, I let my hand rest on his knee, and slowly move up the inside of his muscular thigh until I found the hard bulge in his jeans. He moaned appreciatively as I gave it a squeeze. I remembered how sensitive and ready to cum I always was in my twenties and took it slow with him.
I slowly moved my hand up to his waist, all the while continuing to kiss him on his lips, eyes, neck, and work my tongue around his ear. His breathing was getting shallower, and he was moaning contentedly. I pulled his shirt out of his jeans, and tugged gently so that the snaps popped one-by-one. I slipped my hand inside to feel his smooth, lean body, and pushed his shirt aside to find his right nipple, then started to caress it softly.
He leaned forward a bit and shrugged his shirt off his shoulders, and I took a long look at his long, lean torso. He was lightly muscled but there was no fat on him and every lean muscle was well defined in low relief. His nipples were erect and ready for more than my fingers, and I leaned down to take his left one in my lips, working it softly with my tongue and lightly with my teeth. While I was doing that, he was unbuttoning my shirt and I paused briefly to take it off. Then I leaned into him, feeling his smooth, warm chest against mine as my hand moved down to undo his belt.
In another minute or two, I had his jeans open and had slipped my hand inside to feel is hard cock in his briefs. Now I could feel his size better: not huge, but a respectable seven or so inches, and proportionally thick. I slid my hand down under his waistband to feel the silky smoothness of his cock-skin. And while I was working on him, he had unzipped me and gotten his fingers in my fly to caress the tip of my erection.
We continued like that for a few more minutes, and then I stood up, took his hand, and silently led him into the bedroom. When I had gotten the joint, I had taken the time to light a couple of candles, and to get out my condoms, lube and poppers. He smiled at the scene, and we stood next to the bed, arms around each other, chests together, lips locked and our cocks pushing urgently against each other through our under ware.
"Let's get naked," I said, and we both quickly stripped and threw our clothes aside on the floor.
As soon as we were naked, he sunk to his knees, took my cock in his hand, kissed the tip, and then plunged his mouth all the way down to its base. He held it there for a minute, and then, using the same soft, sensuous movements he had used while kissing, moved up and down my spit-slicked cock, first slowly, then faster, sucking soft, then with a harder pressure, then soft again, varying the sensations. In a couple of minutes, he had me almost ready to cum, but I wanted it to last, so I pulled him up into a kiss again, then asked him to sit on the edge of the bed.
I knelt on the floor in front of him and looked at his beautiful, very hard boy-cock, and his medium-sized balls, hanging low from the warmth of the room. I licked his balls, and kissed and licked my way up his hard cock and around the head as he moaned more and more loudly.
Fortunately, I live in a building that I bought and renovated more than twenty years before. I rented the other floors to other gay men, so the sounds of gay sex are common enough on Saturday nights that nobody cares. I plunged my mouth all the way down on him, enjoying the clean, soapy scent of his crotch. I worked my mouth-magic on him and he leaned back on the bed, moaning loudly and pumping his pelvis up to meet my mouth.
I let my hands play over his abs and chest, working his nipples some more and then pushing his thighs apart, and letting my fingers wander down to his puckered ass-hole. Without stopping my sucking, I reached over for the bottle of lube and squirted it on my fingers, then stated working them around his ass more.
He gasped, "I don't want to cum yet," so I turned my attention to his balls while I continued to work my fingers into his ass.
He was writhing and moaning with pleasure, and sat up again and leaned forward, pulling my face up to kiss me and say softly and urgently "Please fuck me now."
I said nothing, but smiled, reached over to the condoms on the side table, and gave it to him. He ripped it open, and caressed it down my cock, then reached for the lube and lubed me up. He leaned back on the bed again, and raised his legs. My bed is just the right height to fuck someone lying on it when standing on the floor, so I moved forward, got the tip of my cock positioned at his hole, and then slowly pushed into him.
He practically yelled "Oh, yesssssss," and as I bottomed out, sat up to meet my lips.
We were both so excited that I knew this would not last long, but I tried, going with long, slow strokes, Jerry pushing his ass up to meet me. He was far from a passive bottom, pushing and squeezing to maximize both his pleasure and mine. But I don't think that I had gone more than thirty or forty strokes when he yelled "I'm cumming," and started shooting all over his chest, even hitting himself in the chin.
A few strokes later, stimulated by the sight of his load all over his body, I started shooting deep into his ass. I pulled him up to kiss him as I did so, feeling his hot cum against my chest.
When we were done, I lay on him, his legs around my waist, and our lips locked together, as he slowly stroked my back with his finger-tips and I did the same with mine.
A few minutes later, we broke our embrace, our cocks softening. "That was a good start for getting to know you," I said, "but I think there is still a lot more to learn about each other."
"I'm all for that," he said.
"Let's start with a shower, and take it from there," I said.
So we showered, and then got down to knowing each other again. By the next morning, we had done it all, both topped, both bottomed, and all the variations we could think of. I didn't want to monopolize his time while he was in Philly, but we did manage to spend another night together, for part of which we were joined by his dark-haired friend and another young man he had picked up.
I'm looking forward to visiting my cowboy in Phoenix sometime next winter to get reacquainted.