Finding My Soulmate

Blowjob for a Seal

Soon after moving into my newly-purchased apartment in Prince Georges County, Maryland, in the Washington, DC, suburbs, I began investigating the local gay community.  I was highly closeted at the time, so my chosen method of putting myself out there and remaining hidden at the same time was to publish a classified ad in The Washington Blade, the local free gay weekly publication.

After filling in personal information (dick size, height, weight, etc.), the classified is assigned a PO box number.  Initial contact is done via that number.  After a week or so, I got a written message from an interested guy and I responded with my telephone number. He phoned, I gave him my address and he showed up at my place on a Friday morning in need of a blowjob to relieve post-mission stress, he said.  Only a blowjob, no queer stuff like touching, kissing or fucking.  I thought: you’re gonna shove your dick down the throat of this gay man but don’t want to do any queer stuff. I told him I had no problem with his requirements.

He attempted to make small talk, but appeared to be very nervous. He repeated himself a lot, told me, “I’m a Navy Seal and we have a mission today.”  He said that two or three times and I told him, “Well, if you were to tell me about your mission, you’d have to kill me, so I don’t want to know.” He laughed nervously as I opened his belt and zipper and dropped to my knees.

The dude was wearing traditional boxers with a floral design that his wife must have bought for him (yep, gold wedding band.)  Not sexy, at all. About six feet tall, salt and pepper hair, very thin on the top of the head.  Below average in looks.  He had about six inches and never got completely hard, so I just worked fast to get him off and out.  He fucked my face with little stamina and after about ten minutes, he was done.

He put it away, zipped and buckled up in record time and was out the door without a “thank you” or even a “fuck you.”  I immediately thought about cancelling my Blade classified, but gave up on that idea after admitting to myself mentally how horny and desperate I was at that moment.  Now I really needed a good experience to cancel the just-concluded horrible one.

While I was blowing the Seal, his seeming boredom reminded me of a time a girl was doing her nails while I was fucking her.  And, there was the other time a girl was eating an apple while I was humping away at her pussy.  Did I really fuck that bad back when I thought I was straight?  Maybe those experiences pushed me over the fence to the gay side.  Nah, it was probably the accidental wandering into a San Francisco gay bar and going to the men’s room there that did it.

As I recalled that eventful day in the city by the bay, I discovered that I now had a decent boner.  I had gone to the men’s room to take a leak and as I opened the door to the gent’s toilet, I froze in place, staring at the bodies in motion. The room was tightly-packed with guys of all ages and descriptions, taking and giving sexual pleasure. Suddenly someone grabbed my arm and yanked me into the packed-in crowd of grunting and groaning men. 

In a matter of seconds my jeans were yanked down, a tongue forced its way between my lips, a warm, wet mouth wrapped itself around my hardon and sucked like a Hoover.  After a few minutes of getting sucked, I was pushed to my knees and a cock shoved in my mouth. It was all happening so fast.  The face fuck was a bit rough and I gagged a lot.  Surrounding me were voices yelling, “fuck that face, cum down that boy’s throat, let me have some.”  After the dude came in my mouth, I stood and soon found a warm mouth trying to get a protein snack from my cock.  I shot my load and desperately pushed my way out of the men’s room and returned to the bar for a beer.

The bartender walked over to me, smiling, took my order and as he walked away, said over his shoulder, “You have a little man-spunk on your face, dude” A guy sitting at the bar quickly leaned over and licked my face clean. This was way too much for a closeted, innocent queer like me.  I chugged the beer the bartender placed on the bar in front of me.  When I tried to pay, the barman laughed and said, “It’s on the house.”  I left the bar in a hurry and caught the bus back to my place.

I was brought back to the present here in the DC ‘burbs by the ringing of my phone.

to be continued