Diary of a desperate twink
I don’t wanna talk too much about my life before I moved to Canada. Let’s just say I was a starving artist, living in city that was way too expensive for me. Whenever I was looking outside the window of the public buses, I was staring at the most gorgeous stores filled with things I could never afford. I had friends, family, a boyfriend who loved me – but no one could appreciate my art, the one thing I truly cared about. Most days I sat at home, writing stories, with rent getting higher every year. People were serious and hard-working, unlike me. I just wanted to have fun.
So fuck it. I decided to move to Canada and start over. Took me some time to get my papers in order and say goodbye to everyone. Moving to another country is a tiring process, I spare you the details. But once the plane took off, I felt relief showering over me right away.
I got a small apartment, just out of town. Where, I don’t wanna share. But it didn’t take me long to go online to find a stranger. I’m actually quite shy, so I struggle to meet new people. That’s one of the perks of being gay, all I gotta do is log in and upload some pictures.
I’m 27, pale, auburn hair, short and thin but I work out. I’ve always looked much younger than I am, which is usually a plus for twinks online. Immediately there are some messages. I don’t care much about what the initial message says, nor do I care about the photos on their profile. Some don’t even have one, which is alright with me. I like men I would never meet otherwise. Men who live completely different lives. Sometimes I like them crude, but right now I need someone who makes me feel welcome in this new place.
Like Pete, 54; doesn’t say anything else on the profile. He asks me where I’m from, followed by “you’re pretty”. I appreciate the compliment and the proper spelling, so I tell him I’m from Europe – intentionally keeping it vague. He gives me that “welcome to Canada” which I have been craving for. It’s a quick back and forth, we declare our intentions. I’m ready for just about anything, so I don’t refuse his offer to meet him at a bar downtown.
Even without having seen his picture before, I recognize him with ease. He looks his age, tall, has a bit of a belly, is clean shaved and has almost fully grey hair. I see him looking around, finally catching me by the door. His eyes light up, probably relieved I’m not a fake. It’s cute how excited he gets; his smile is kind of contagious. We greet each other awkwardly, but the hug feels natural. He pats my back a little bit. I sit down next to him, already I’d like to just cuddle up on his lab. He orders chardonnay for himself, I ask for a martini.
“To be honest, I just like the olives”, I giggle. Again that contagious smile.
“What else do you like?”, he asks. Not very smooth, but I like where this is going.
“I enjoy cuddling up inside, watching a movie, go running”, I lean in so only he can hear me. “Sucking dick…”
He looks a little shocked, but definitely not uninterested. “You do?”
I shrug. “If it’s the right one.”
Our drinks arrive, bringing a natural shift to our conversation. My martini comes without an olive. I try not to let Pete notice my disappointment.
“So what kind of guys are you into?” He seems eager to return to that topic. So am I.
“Honestly, I don’t have preferences like that. I just like someone who gets me excited. And who knows what he wants.”
He nods, slowly, trying to figure me out. Then he waves at the waiter, getting his attention right away. He points to my martini. “Where’s the olive?”, he asks, not rudely, just checking.
The waiter looks surprised. He apologizes and puts one into my glass. I take a sip, feeling pleased. This guy is definitely going to fuck me tonight.
His place is spacious, well furnished. There’s even some art work at the walls. He’s clearly rich. We hadn’t really talked about money, but it’s not even what I want anyway. I’m sure he’ll offer soon enough, though. And I never refuse.
“Did you furnish this place?”, I ask him.
“My wife did.” There’s a look of concern on his face, but I don’t mind him being married.
I nod. “Where is she?”
“At home. This is just a secondary address closer to the center. When I have to work late.”
I giggle. “Like tonight?”
He smiles. “Exactly.”
He makes the first move. I like that. Pulling me in, holding me tight. I look up to him, directly into his eyes. For a second he seems almost nervous to meet my gaze, but lust takes over caution. We kiss hard. He does seem a bit reluctant at first, but I thrust my tongue against his, showing him I’m game. He pulls me even tighter against his body, grabbing my ass firmly with his big hands. I reach between his legs, already feeling the bulge of his pants there rubbing against my soft abs. I want him to see them, so I take my shirt off. He looks surprised, probably didn’t expect me to be this fit. He’s not intimidated though, and in a minute I can see why. I unbutton his pants, and through the fabric of his underwear I can already tell that he’s pretty fucking big. I reach for his cock with both of my small hands, knowing how obscene this looks. He slaps my ass, then pulls me closer to the couch.
I push him down to the cushions, sitting on lab, grinding against his cock. He tries to pull off my pants, I help him. He keeps starring at my ass, slapping it harder and harder. My ass is pretty big for a man my size, and I’m proud of it. I appreciate him liking it so much, so I arch my back, letting him caress it more. I bet his wife doesn’t have an ass like I do.
We both take off our underwear; he only keeps his shirt on. That’s okay, I only have eyes for his dick anyway. He almost pushes my face against it. I can tell he’s holding back. I smile at him. “You want me to do something for you?”
He nods eagerly. “You said you like doing it, right?”
I’m gonna show him just how much I like it. I lick the shaft from the bottom to the top, wrapping my lips around the wet tip. I make eye contact before slowly taking it deeper into my mouth. Already he’s twitching, trying to burry it deeper. He keeps holding himself back though. I pull out, looking at him teasingly. He wants me to suck it so bad, and so do I, but I want him make me do it. I kiss it, lick it, never giving him quite what he wants. Finally, he just pushes my head down, bobbing it up and down. I’m taking him so deep it makes me gag. My eyes tear up, saliva running down the shaft of his cock. He pulls out, giving me a chance to breathe.
“Are you okay?” he asks. I nod, probably looking pretty fucked up right now but I love it. He looks at my dick, nowhere as big as his but hard enough for him. He strokes it a little, as if wanting to show some appreciation. “Feels pretty good”, he praises, “you give amazing head.”
Almost gently, he smears precum on my flush cheek. There’s a tenderness in that movement that really turns me on. Right away I get back to sucking his cock, taking it all the way in. I gag, trying to breathe through my nose, tears gathering, but it feels so good. He’s moaning, keeps on thrusting it in and out. I feel his cum pumping up inside. I can always tell when a guy is about to cum. I don’t think he even knows how close he is, but he keeps on fucking my face, chasing that sweet release.
“Aw shit, I’m about to cum!” he pulls out, trying to extend our fucking session. But too late. His cum squirts out all over, some of it on his shirt, most of it on my face. He’s breathing hard, as if he just ran a marathon, collapsing on the couch. I keep his cum on my face, snuggling between his legs with his cock right next to my cheek. As I quietly watch it twitching at beat of his heart, I feel truly welcome in this new place.
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