See, Smell, Touch, Taste and Hear You

A year before I turned 65, I put my name on the waiting list for Place Saint-Laurent, a seniors’ residence in downtown Toronto, Canada. Eleven months later, I got a call saying there was a one-bedroom apartment available at market price. I visited the unit facing Lake Ontario on the top floor of a nine-story building, I liked it, and I signed the lease for occupation two months later.

Place Saint-Laurent is the only seniors’ residence for French-speaking Torontonians. Over 80% of the residents are women, some originally from Africa and Mauritius Island. Men are mainly from the province of Québec or from Ontario like me. There are a few young people who live with their grand-parents. I met one of them in the elevator. I don’t think he was much older than 18. One thing for sure, Antoine was a handsome slim guy with a nice smile. I wondered if he could possibly be gay…

Six weeks after my installation in the apartment, we had a Thanksgiving dinner. When I came down to buy my ticket, Antoine was already in line with his grand-father. I asked him to keep a place for me at his table. That was the first time we exchanged at length. He had just turned 18 and was studying at George Brown College to become a personal support worker. His grand-father said that “Antoine is so serious that he hasn’t dated any girl yet”. I almost replied that it was perhaps because he hadn’t met Mr. Right!

During the dinner, I explained that I was the book critic for L’Express, Toronto’s French-language weekly paper, and that I had lots of novels that both Antoine and his grand-father could choose from. I also brushed my knee on Antoine’s leg a few times, and he kind of replied in the same way. We looked at each other with a grin on our face. My next move was an invitation to drop by apartment 905 to see what I had on my book shelves.

Antoine asked if he could come over after the meal. I said it would be perfect. I didn’t add that the most important album in my library was a 664-page retrospective of drawings by Tom of Finland, with short texts in English, German and French. I was sure he would revel in flipping through these guys in leather gear, in full action, fucking each other hard and deep with 10-inch cocks and eating their partner’s ass with frenzy.

Antoine followed me upstairs, and I was in for a surprise as soon as I shut the door. “I’ve never done this before, he said, but can I kiss you? You attract me a lot.” Our lips were immediately united, our tongues intertwined, our kisses were passionate. I could feel that he was both nervous and relieved. He had finally come out of the closet.

Like me at 18, Antoine was still a virgin. As we sat down and cuddled on the sofa, he explained how he had always been a shy boy, and that classmates had called him “sissy” or “faggot”. Later, he was too scared to walking down Church Street in the Gay Village. He wasn’t sure if his attraction to older men made him queer in a bad way. I reassured him and even mentioned that I had met younger guys through the dating service called Silver Daddies.

“You fit perfectly well in the LGBT community, my dear Son!”

“Oh yes! I like it when you call me Son. I want you to be my special Daddy.”

This was heaven on earth! I would get to initiate Antoine to manly pleasures. My own father had been a very distant man, and never expressed his emotions. I never heard him say a single loving word to my mother, not even on Mother’s Day. We never had a discussion about sex. It’s only at 26 that I told him about my sexual orientation. For the record, I’m 100% gay, I’ve never dated a girl seriously, I’ve never seen a naked woman (except on pictures our videos), I’m attracted to men younger than me, but not to effeminate guys. I have a fetish for dudes in jockstraps, and a fantasy towards naked cowboys in chaps.

Antoine is not super virile, but he is young, handsome, as tall as me, and we definitely have a social and intellectual complicity, plus a sexual attraction. I want this to work out. I think that it is best that I do not rush into bed to eat his ass right away, but gradually get comfortable with him. An idea runs through my mind; I want to explore Antoine’s body with my five senses: “I would like to see, smell, touch, taste and hear you, my sweet Son.” At the sound of these verbs, he snuggles even more tightly against me. “I would like to go back to my apartment, see how my grand-father is doing, take a shower and come back. Is that OK with you, Daddy?” I feel like saying that we can shower together, but that would lead me to sucking his dick too quickly. I just reply that I will also get spic and span, and wait impatiently for him.

When he comes back, I immediately notice a change in appearance: Tom of Finland t-shirt, tight faded blue jeans, bulging crotch in full display. Noticing my surprised look, he says how he has dreamed of wearing this outfit since he was about 16. Antoine is simply fucking hot. I take photos, promising that they will be treasured souvenirs for just the two of us.

First sense. “Can you strip so that I can look at your body from every possible angle?” He takes off his shirt so that I can admire his hairy chest and armpits. He bends down to offer me a nice view of his small peachy butt, then removes his jeans. Fuck! Antoine is wearing a red jockstrap just like mine. I have to control myself so as not to bury my face in his pouch. He removes the jock, strutting languidly, his cock already fully erected and his balls hanging tight. Antoine is a natural strip-teaser, more debauched than I thought. Hot manly pleasures are looming on the horizon.

Second sense. I bury my nose in his armpits, in his crotch, in his ass crack. I sniff like a pig for truffles and get intoxicated by Antoine’s divine male aroma.

Third sense. I touch with the tip of my finger his entire body. I caress his face, tickle his stomach, squeeze his balls, stroke his rock-hard cock and knead his firm cute ass. I am already excited, but this tactile exploration makes me drip.

Fourth sense. I French-kiss him to taste the sweetest tongue ever. I lick his nipples and hairy armpits. I suck his hard dick until my mouth is flooded by a huge creamy load that I swallow almost completely, keeping a good tablespoon to lubricate his ass hole and taste his succulent rosebud smeared in teenager juice. This is by far the best smorgasbord I have ever savoured. Antoine keeps begging me not to stop, saying how he never thought that gay sex could be so exhilarating.

Fifth sense. “The best is yet to come, Son! I want to hear you moan with pleasure. Your ass will be fucked for the first time. It will hurt at the beginning, but trust me Son, your roars of pain will quickly become shocks of pleasure, music to my ears.” On this note, I slowly plunge my shaft in his welcoming hole, shove it back and forth with increasing rhythm. My pounding makes him yell: “This is so fucking hot. Yeah, Daddy, cream your new Son’s ass!” His sore butt now feels like a temple of manly pleasure thanks to me, his new Daddy, and I have so much fun dumping my junk in his virgin trunk. 

Raw fuck becomes the culmination of Antoine’s initiation with flying colors. It grabs all five of our senses and sends both of us into the sweaty backrooms of our erotic imagination.