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! 24
2015, A Grindr encounter with Ray
It was an early spring day, a Sunday, in 2015 and I was feeling like I wanted to spend the afternoon making love with another guy. Even some plain old hot sex would be fine! I thought about heading out to one of my favorite gay cruising bars and seeing if there was someone--any age!--that piqued my fancy. But it was rainy, I didn't want to go out and I thought that only the hard-core drinkers would be hanging out at the bars today.
I decided to go online. I used to have good luck checking out Squirt, Silver Daddies and a couple of other gay hook-up sites. I had been a member of Squirt for many years, the other sites less, and had hooked up with lots of guys that way, some great, others not so.
On Squirt, the desktop version--not the smart-phone app, which I haven't used much--you could never really be sure what you were going to get. How old, really, was that picture on his profile? If he said he was 35 was he totally honest, a good-looking 40 or a deluded grandpa? Any other "fact" was also open to question and interpretation.
The result was that I met some totally hot guys, a bunch of really nice guys and a fair share of chubs who said they were HWP (height/weight proportional), or guys who otherwise really stretched the truth. Also, you'd see an attractive profile, have a good phone or text conversation and set up a date and he wouldn't show, no explanation coming. Or show an hour or more late. Or call and say he forgot. Or some other lame excuse.
Or the guy that sounded terrific on the phone would be really creepy, or so in the closet that he would be shaking like a leaf with fear that it was a trap or he would be found out and his life ruined.
Of course, there were a fair number of guys who were married and trying to satisfy a longing that they had for another man. Many were really nice, sweet, good lovers, fun to be with and honest about who they were and what the future prospects were. That's OK with me. I'm fine with guys that don't want--or can't have--a relationship. There were some, though, that kept asking for meetings, and it was clear that they were getting too infatuated and that it was not going to end well for either them or me. I would try to let them down gently: instead of ignoring their posts, I'd let them know that I thought it would be best to cut off our sessions, and wish them the best for the future.
One problem with Squirt --though no longer with their new phone app--was that the location information was pretty general, provided by the user, and often not accurate. A guy who said he was in Center City might be in some farther-flung neighborhood, or who said he was in a nearby suburb was really far out. Geez, whatever happened to honesty or candor even?
So here it was 2015, well into the smart-phone era. Why was I still in the stone-age as far as internet hook-ups were concerned? I was always a bit weirded out by being too connected on my cell phone. I didn't want the constant interruptions while I was working, and frankly, didn't want to be found all the time.
I didn't--and still don't--do email on my phone. Email can wait until I sit down at my computer. I think anything that's too important to wait until I get to a computer can be a phone call. I don't really like long texting conversations. "What's your ETA?" is ok, or "Dinner @ 7, Pizz Stella?", "[Thumb-up emoji]", that's fine. I purposely put my phone aside, often out of reach when I am in the studio, always when I am having sex, and many other times too. My friends and important calls all know that I'll get back to them soon and won't ignore them. I'm old fashioned and think it is rude not to return legit calls or acknowledge emails, unless they are junk.
But my friends had been praising Grindr, the gay phone "dating" app that first appeared in 2009. When it was new, it wasn't all that useful because the network effects had not kicked in yet. If you want to find a hot local guy for a hookup, there have to be a lot of hot local guys on the same app and looking when you want them, and there weren't early on. My friends said that was not the case now and that I should get with the program.
So, I recently got myself a Grindr account and logged on more and more, seeing potential guys and seeing how many--amazingly!--guys there were in the immediate area looking at any given time. On weekend nights, the volume could be mind-boggling: is everybody in my neighborhood gay?
Of course, there were a lot of twinks looking for twinks, leather looking for leather, older guys looking for younger guys, various fetishes, and so forth. Plain old vanilla sex? Yes, a lot of that! So there was always a lot of choice.
Though I still thought that cruising at the bars, and an occasional night at the baths was a fun way to get some hot sex, I started having fun, maybe a couple of times a week, checking out Grindr and more often than not finding a compatible partner. Like Squirt, there was a lot of truth-stretching or downright lying to wade through, but I had a lot experience doing that and could sort out a lot of the bullshit and so I got a lot of hot nights with guys my own age (mid-50s), younger guys looking for a daddy and turned on by my photo of my still-impressive body that I worked hard to maintain, and many guys in-between or even older. It's amazing how long the male sex drive survives!
So, this particular Sunday, I decided to go on Grindr and see who might be interested for an afternoon of exploring each other.
I opened the app, and there was an array of guys arranged closest (60 ft) to farther away. Second in order, at about 150 ft. was--for the first time--a guy I knew from my gym, Ray. My gaydar must have been off because I never took him for being anything but 100% straight. Sure, we had friendly conversations and joked around during, before, and after our workouts, and we saw each other in partial states of undress in the locker room--though neither of us showered there, so nudity was not in the cards.
I was just starting to message him, when I got one from him:
Hey, John, surprised to see u here
Same here, Ray. U new on Grindr? Didn't know u r gay
Just set up my acct. Didn't know u r gay either
Cool
Yeah. Been out for years. So u want to get together?
Y. Been out ditto. Didn't know u r so close
Ur place?
OK
I see the building. Apt?
4
Gimme 20
K
I took the twenty minutes to hop in the shower and to douche my ass. I also slipped on the engraved silver cock ring a long-ago boyfriend had given me. I put on a button-down shirt (I like the slowness of undressing in one), and jeans.
Ray's profile had said he was totally versatile, into kissing, body contact, oral, anal (safe of course), HIV neg, no hardcore kink, but open to new things. 6' 160 lbs., big cock. His age was listed as 53 (I would have thought younger though) and his picture showed him with a tank top on, something I had seen him in many times at the gym. He was a very attractive man, with a tight, toned body. Slim, with ropy muscles and a hint of a six-pack showing through his tank top. Nice pecs, round perky ass. I had watched him work out, and had sneaked lascivious glimpses at him over the last couple of years and was impressed.
My own picture was one I had done by a photographer friend a few months earlier, that showed me bare-chested, my abs clenched (but in truth, they never were as prominent now as they were ten years previously; age had added a soft layer over what was still pretty solid muscle), and the lighting was done to make the most of my physique which was still pretty impressive, if my partners were not lying to me. I am 6', and have been about 175 lbs. since I was 40. He could see my age, 56, and already knew my gray hair, and my more mature-looking face. Apparently none of those things were a turn-off.
Twenty minutes after we signed off, he rang and I buzzed him in. I heard him steadily climb the stairs. I opened my door and smiled as I saw him mount the last turn of the steps to my hallway.
He was smiling too. "Hey John," he said shaking my hand and pulling me into a hug. "Life is full of great coincidences, isn't it?"
"I'm happy for this one," I said. "Come on in. Can I get you a drink? Wanna smoke some weed?"
"Whoa!" he said, "way too fast! Let me have a look around first. This place is fucking amazing! Have you been here long?"
"More than thirty years," I said. "I bought the building raw back when the neighborhood was mostly commercial. I did most of the work myself. I knew a lot of carpentry, but I had to learn electrical and plumbing skills, and I got some professional help with stuff that was beyond my capabilities. As I have gotten older and better off professionally, I have had more and more work done when necessary. I still like puttering around though. My studio is one floor down and I rent out the first two floors. "
"Are these all your paintings?" he asked. "I knew you were an artist but didn't know what you did. These are amazing! I've seen your work beforeÉ." and he mentioned a couple of group shows at museums in the past few years, "É.but I didn't put the name with the artist and it is great seeing so much of it together, and what I guess are works from over a number of years." I gestured to him to sit on the sofa.
"Not all of the work is mine. Some is work of artist friends--we trade work from time to time--and there are pieces going back at least twenty-five years here. Just a few I didn't want to part with. Most of my work gets sold pretty quickly from my shows.
"Now about that drink, or weedÉ." I said.
"I'll take a drink to start with," Ray said, "we can do some weed later, OK?"
"Bourbon, rocks?" I asked.
"Sure, why not, I love bourbon," he said.
I went over to the small table I used as a bar, got a couple of my crystal double old-fashioned glasses, one for him and one for me, got ice from my fridge, and went back to pour generously from my bottle of 15-year-old whiskey. I grabbed a small bowl of pretzels and put it on one of the trays on the upholstered bench I use as a cocktail table. I handed him his drink.
"I know Grindr etiquette--if there is such a thing--says we're supposed to be getting it on by now," I said, "but I feel I kinda know you already and want to know more. We can save the physical stuff for a little, is that OK?"
"Yeah, John, that's cool," he replied.
"I know you're a writer," I said, "but I don't know what kind of work you do."
"Well, I make a living as a magazine writer, mostly free-lance, but I do have a regular senior editor position at a college alumni magazine that gives me a basic income and some interesting work to do, six issues a year. I've been an adjunct associate professor in the English department at a local university for about twenty years, teaching creative writing. I like it a lot and the students are all smart, pretty stimulating and they make me feel old and young at the same time. The pay is more like indentured servitude."
"I know what you mean, Ray. I taught part time at a couple of the local art schools for about twenty-five years. Lousy money, but the students are a lot of fun and reminded me of when I was young and starting out in the art world. But tell me more."
"Well, I just published my first novel about a three months ago. Better late than never," he said.
"Oh, what was the title?" I asked. He told me and I said, "It got some really great reviews! I haven't read it yet, but I want to."
"Well, great reviews don't necessarily equate to great sales," he said, "but my publisher seems gratified and wants me to do a book tour that they're planning, starting in late April. I'll be doing one-night stands and readings for a month, cross-country."
"Sounds like it could be fun, but exhausting too," I said.
"I'll give you a copy of the book, if you want," he said.
"Well that would be great," I said, "but let me buy it and help get your sales up. Anyway, fuck books for now," I said, "I'd rather fuck you or have you fuck me," and I turned to kiss him.
A soft kiss lingered at his lips and continued to his neck and ear, and I whispered "Do you like kissing as much as I do?" going back to the soft kiss on his lips.
"Uh-huh," he whispered, letting his tongue softly push its way into my mouth. We kept kissing softly, letting our tongues mingle, our kisses roam over each other's faces and necks, while our hands started exploring each other like they had a mind of their own.
Ray's hand moved to my chest, rubbing it gently through my shirt, and then undoing two buttons so he could slip it in to feel the hair on my chest and caress my pecs. My hand was on his thigh and slowly moved up toward his crotch as we kissed. My cock was hard in my jeans.
His hand found one of my nipples and started caressing it with his finger-tips and then gently working it between his fingers. I moaned softly and slowly moved my fingers up his jeans until I felt the hard ridge of his erection lying side-ways pointing to one hip. I traced it up lightly with my hand, causing him to moan softly, and whisper "Oh, JohnÉ.". I was amazed at what I felt: he was very thick and at least eight inches long. After many years of sex with other guys, I was pretty good at measuring with my fingers.
"Fuck, you're big," I whispered.
"Big, just like my profile says, John. Eight by six," he replied. "Do you think you can take me?"
"No problem, " I said.
"I love your bourbon," he said, "but weed really heightens everything when you're making love."
"For sure," I said, and opened the inlaid wooden box I kept on my bench where I kept several joints rolled and ready, condoms, lube, poppers, and even a toy or two. I left the top open so that he could see those things. I got out a joint and a lighter and lighted it, inhaling and holding it in as I passed it to him. He did the same.
"Shit, that's great weed!" he said. The stuff I had been getting lately had been truly great one-hitter.
"No shit, " I responded, taking another hit and holding it in before pulling him into a kiss and exhaling as we kissed and he inhaled my smoke. We traded smoke for a couple more hits and put the joint down.
We sat on the sofa, kissing and feeling each other, getting hornier and hornier. He unbuttoned and slipped my shirt off over my shoulders as we were kissing, and I interrupted our making out just long enough to pull his T-shirt off. As we went back to kissing, I held him with my right arm around his shoulders and my left hand played softly over his smooth torso, feeling the tight muscles on his slim body, the low hills and valleys of his abs and the flat muscles of his pecs, with the little defined ridge underneath. Our tongues pushed and pulled in each other's mouths, our teeth nibbled on lips, tongues, ears, necks, wherever they could get a little love bite.
I went back to gently caressing his hard cock through his jeans, and he did the same to mine. The weed was enhancing the whole experience and making time stand still. We broke it off briefly, and I reached over to finish off my bourbon and he took the time to do the same.
"You know, Ray," I said, "I have been thinking of doing this ever since I first saw you at the gym. I confess that I have even jerked off imagining making love to you. So this is like a dream come true."
"You took the words out of my mouth," he said, "I have imagined the same thing. I didn't want to approach you because I thought you might be creeped out and I didn't want to ruin the gym for you, thinking that you might freak with me perving on you."
"Ain't life grand?" I said with a chuckle. "If you hadn't noticed, I am super turned on by you. Let's take this to the bed."
I stood up, taking his hand, and pulled open the sliding Japanese-style panels that separated my sleeping area from the living area.
"Fuck!" Ray said, seeing the king bed on the base that I had constructed so that it was the ideal height for me to fuck a partner lying on the edge, the mirrors over the bed, on the headboard and the sliding closet doors along-side, the extra pillows, the low lighting and candles I had lit before Ray came over, the condoms, lube, poppers and towels next to the bed: everything to make our experience pleasurable and successful.
"Let's lose our clothes," I said, feeling so incredibly desperate to cum soon and then while away the rest of the afternoon in Ray's arms, making love until we were too exhausted to continue.
We quickly got out of our shoes, pants, socks and underwear until we faced each other total naked. "John, you're a beautiful sight," Ray said. "I've seen a lot of you at the gym, but the unadorned package is really something beyond what I had imagined. Your cock is really beautiful and just the right size to swallow and feel inside of me."
For his part, Ray was a gorgeous sight too. His pubes were entirely shaved and smooth and had been tattooed in a copy of the pubes on Leonardo da Vinci's famous "Vetruvian Man" drawing: artful wisps and curls done on black ink.
He continued, "That cock ring is gorgeous. I shoulda worn mine! I bet there's a story behind it."
"Yeah, there is," I said, and I told him about the boyfriend who had had it made for me many years ago. "I have a leather snap-on, if you want to use it," I said.
"Yeah, cool," he said, so I went over to the drawer in the bedside table, got out a leather job decorated with rhinestones and walked over to him, and knelt to snap it tight around his cock and nice-sized balls. His whole package seemed to swell up and stood out prominently from his crotch. His cock swelled to at least a half-an-inch longer and thicker too.
As I was kneeling in front of him, I gently took his cock in my hand and caressed its length, cupping his balls gently with my other hand. I leaned forward and kissed the tip and then ran my tongue up and down it, around his balls and around his cock-head. He moaned softly and whispered, "Oh, fuck, John, I'm so sensitive now, I feel like I could burst."
I stood up and whispered, "Let's make this last at least a little, Ray," and I got on the bed, he followed and I knelt to face him. I pulled him to my chest, kissing him deeply and feeling the tight muscles of his back and glutes. Our cocks pushed together up against our bellies and our hips moved in and out, grinding together desperately. His hands explored my back and his fingers slipped down between my buns and gently caressed my hole. Oh God, I longed to feel him inside me and to cum!
We parted and I pushed him back so that he was leaning back on his calves, supported by his arms on the bed, and his cock, dressed up in the jeweled cock-ring, was pointing straight up to the ceiling. We were arranged side-ways on the bed so that you could watch everything clearly in the mirrored headboard.
I leaned forward and once again kissed the tip of his cock, took his thickness in my hand, closing my fingers--that barely touched when they met around it--and slipped him into my warm wet mouth. I used very little pressure, almost trying not to touch him, as I took him in as far as I could go. Then I swirled my tongue around and put more pressure on my lips, and sucked in, creating a vacuum. I slowly started to move up and down and at the same time worked the bottom part of his cock--which was too big for me to get all the way down on!--with my fingers. My other hand caressed his balls, and then moved up to his abs and chest, feeling his body before moving back down to his balls again. He moaned softly, and then more loudly as I increased the pressure and worked up and down on him.
He pulled me away. "I'm too close, John. It's your turn now."
He pushed me back as I had him and my cock pointed straight up, set off by my engraved silver cock-ring. He leaned forward and took me in his mouth like I had done him. He worked me with his lips and tongue, slow then faster, light pressure, then more, sucking and working his cheeks in and out. He was an expert and he was quickly bringing me close to climaxing.
I pulled him off my cock and into a kiss and said, "I want you inside me. I know that this may be going faster than we want, but, geez, I can hardly stand it anymore. And we have the rest of the day in front of us don't we? You know I'm negative, but I'm also on PrEP and I'm OK with you fucking me bareback."
"I'm on PrEP too," he said. "How do you want to do this?"
"Like this," I said, reaching over for the pump bottle of lube and pumping a generous squirt onto my hand before lubing his cock and my ass, then reaching for the bottle of poppers, opening it and taking a deep hit on both nostrils. Then, as he was doing the poppers himself, I hitched myself up so that, still facing him, chest-to-chest, my legs over his, I took his cock in my hand, got the tip at my hole and slowly lowered myself all the way down it as the poppers hit me in a wave of ecstasy and the pleasure of being full with his thick meat hit me.
I put my arms around him, his chest against mine, our mouths glued together and started a slow up-and-down movement on his big cock, clenching and unclenching my ass.
"Oh, fuck, that's amazing John," he whispered in my ear, "if I get too close, ya gotta stop, OK?"
"You call the shots, Ray," I said and kept up my ride, with him helping by putting his hands under my ass and lifting me up. I felt his arms working and was amazed at his strength. I should not have been: I had seen how much he could lift at the gym and had marveled at how strong that thin, ropy body was.
I rode him for three cycles of stopping and starting and could tell how much he really wanted to cum. I said, "I want you to top me on my back," and he complied by rolling me backwards and deftly pushing my legs up on his shoulders as he continued to fuck me.
We were across the bed, and I could see everything--a beautiful sight--in the mirrored headboard. Propping himself up on his arms, all his muscles working, he pistoned in and out of me, gaining speed to his climax. Finally, I could feel it coming, his cock swelling inside of me and he tensed up and closed his eyes, then pushed my legs aside as he fell on me, our lips met, and he started to pump his semen deep inside me as I helped by contracting my ass rhythmically around his hard cock as he came.
He lay there panting as we kissed hungrily, our bodies pressed together, my cock pressed against his belly, desperate for my own release.
"Your turn now," he whispered and withdrew his still-hard cock from my ass. He straddled me, reached for the bottle of lube and lubed up my cock and his ass, opened the poppers once again, taking two deep hits before handing them to me and lowering himself on my erection.
As the poppers hit us he started riding slowly up and down, rotating his hips in the way I found so stimulating, taking my hands in his, lacing his fingers through mine and working to bring me to the edge.
It didn't take more than about fifteen strokes on my cock before I felt I was going to go over the edge. I grabbed the poppers one last time and took a deep hit as my cock started to contract and shoot my load into his ass. As I did, he pulled me up to sitting, kissing me as we finished in the the way we had started.
He held me tight, kissing as we both wound down and I could feel my cock softening inside of him and his softening against my belly.
Finally, we parted and lay length-wise on the bed, me on my back, he with his head on my chest and one leg thrown over mine.
"That was fucking amazing!" he said. "Why didn't it happen sooner?"
"Well, duh, you mighta signed up on Grindr a while ago, but you didn't," I said. "At least you finally got out of the stone age," but who was I to talk? "Can you stay for the afternoon?" I asked.
"Well, let me call my admin and cancel my appointments," he quipped, as he snuggled closer, stifling a yawn.
"Cool, but I think we deserve a little nap," I said.
"HmmmÉ." he said, snuggling closer and closing his eyes.
We both dozed off, but not for long. A half-hour later, I woke, needing to pee, and quietly left the bed to use the bathroom. When I got back, he was awake and left to do the same thing. We both ended up in my living area where I poured us another bourbon and we sat naked and talked for a half-hour before succumbing to desire again and ending up in bed for another hour of sucking and fucking.
By seven that evening, we have made love four times, and spent some time talking, drinking, smoking more weed an having a great time together.
"Can you spend the night Ray?" I asked.
"I'd love that, but I'm hungry after all that sex, and I will need to grab some stuff from my apartment" he said.
"Chinese OK?" I asked.
"Yup" he replied with a big smile.
We got our clothes on and walked the few blocks to Chinatown to one of my favorite restaurants, and ordered two apps, a soup and two dishes: probably enough for three people easily, and we ate it all.
Back at my place, after a short detour to his apartment on the small street behind mine, we were back in bed and in each other's arms as fast as we could be and that night, neither of us got much sleep. Sometimes it's great to not have to go to the office!