At about midnight I heard the bell ring and woke from my drowsy head. Who the hell wanted to visit at this hour? I asked the person to identify himself through the intercom and heard Tim’s voice, although he sounded not quite himself. It was the voice of someone who’d been drinking.
“Hey, Pete, I was at a bar near you (duh, I knew that already) and you once asked me to come by and watch a Red Sox game with you. Do you remember that? I see they’re playing on the West Coast, so it’s just the fourth inning. Can I still watch with you?”
In fact I had done that very thing as he was leaving my apartment with the gang a few weeks ago after a Celtics game. I hadn’t forgotten. That was kinda bold in front of the others, but he turns me on and I had had several beers. A the time he had ignored my suggestion, but the other guys in the entourage — all straight — snickered, knowing full well what I was up to.
Tim is in his 50s with a handsome WASPy-Irish face, blue eyes, full lips, long blond-gray hair like a latter-day hippy and lanky body sporting the tightest Levi’s I’ve ever seen on a straight guy. When he stretched his legs out, his bulging crotch became even more pronounced and his well-worn Reeboks made me wonder if his large feet corresponded to the legend about feet and dick size.
So here he was at midnight sitting on my sofa in those faded Levi’s that fit him like a baseball glove.
“What do you have in the way of beer?” he asked. “Strange that you should ask, I replied. “I still have the sixpack of BrewDog you brought to the last gathering. You’re the only one who drinks that ridiculously high-alcohol beer.”
As I handed him a bottle, he shocked me by chugging down nearly the whole thing, even though he had had plenty to drink already.
“Aren’t you having any?” he said. “Not Brewdog,” I replied. “I’ll have a Sam Adams.” His presence was making me anxious with thoughts of where this visit might lead. I needed a beer.
The Red Sox game became an afterthought for me anyway, but Tim got right into it. “How did the Sox score three runs. I need a full report?” he enthused. A home run by Roman Anthony,” I said.
“Could you get me another Brewdog?”
I was out of my seat in a flash. If he got even more drunk, who knows what fantastical thing might happen.
“So, tell me, Pete. I’ve never met a gay guy into sports like you. I find that really cool.”
“My father and brothers were huge fans,” I explained, “so I watched the Sox, Pats, Celtics and Bruins games as a kid. That pulled me into it.”
“Have you met other gay guys who like sports?” Tim was totally slurring his words at this point. “I imagine that’s a long shot.”
“I haven’t,” I said, “although I’m holding out hope.”
“Are you seeing anyone these days? I’m not sure I mentioned that Joanie and I are separated on our way to getting divorced and I’m feeling as free as a horny cowboy. I gave it 10 years, but we’ve never been suited to each other. We both realized that years ago. No blame, as the Chinese say.
“I’ve had too much to drink, Pete, so I’m talking out of turn here, but Joanie stopped being interested in sex years ago. It’s been a major frustration in my life.”
I was a bit surprised he was telling me this — in vino veritas, I guess — and didn’t know what to say. Of all the guys in our sports group, he was the least likely to share anything personal.
As I stumbled for a reaction, my empathetic nature and something else kicked in. “Sorry to hear that, Tim. Sexual release makes the world go ‘round. We all need it and it’s a lot of fun, especially if you do it with someone, helps with tension, cleans the pipes, and I’m thinking of that old Rolling Stones song that everyone can identify with and we all want — Satisfaction.”
Tim asked for yet another Brewdog. “This guy can handle his liquor,” I thought. “What else can he handle?” I found out fast. He grabbed the beer with one hand and rubbed his crotch with the other — no way I could miss that — and his bulge bulged out even more.
“Pete, let me know if I’m overstepping, but I need to ask. Have you ever sucked off a straight guy?”
Now I was completely hard in my briefs. This was going where I wanted, but faster than I expected.
“I thought when you invited me to come back here without the gang, you were sending a signal that you found me hot. I’m right, aren’t I?”
“I think you’re very hot, Tim. I’m game for doing anything you want tonight.” Obviously, my nervousness had disappeared, but I still needed another Sam Adams.
He asked me to sit closer and placed my hand on his crotch.
“I’ll be honest,” he said. “After your invitation, I wondered what your mouth would feel like on my dick. Joanie wouldn’t put hers anywhere near it. She thinks oral sex is gross. Ya know, I’ve never had another dude suck my cock.”
As Tim splayed his legs farther apart, I said nothing, just unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly. I signaled him to lift his torso and pulled his tight Levi’s down to his ankles.
“This will go better if I take them off,” I said excitedly, and pulled his sneakers off, which allowed me to pull off his jeans, although their tightness made it difficult. I pulled his T-shirt over his head and my eyes luxuriated in his toned body, blond-gray hairy chest and tantalizing treasure trail that disappeared into his tightey-whiteys. That underwear choice stamped him as completely straight. I’ve never met a gay guy who wore Jockeys or any other brand of white briefs, my favorite underwear.
His looked well-worn, not completely white anymore — slightly yellow-gray. Joanie had forgotten to use bleach or just didn’t care. I hoped he had been wearing them all week in this hot weather, which would tell you about my love for ripe male scents.
It was time to run my hands on his hairy chest and when I pinched his nipples, he let out a loud “ah-oh” and leaned back on the sofa.
My confidence growing, I asked if he had ever had his nips licked? “No,” he said. “Get ready,” I said, and on my knees I gripped his body, leaned over him and placed my tongue on one, then the other and licked all around them. When I clasped the nubs with my teeth, gently biting down to assess how strong an erogenous zone they were, I thought he was going to have a stroke, such were his movements of bucking up and down and his loud exhortations of pleasure.
“Jeezus, Pete, What is that all about? No one, including myself, has ever touched my nipples, much less bitten them. Now I’m incredibly horny. I almost feel like I’m going to cum just by your biting them.”
I was thrilled to be able to give a straight guy a pleasure he had never experienced. “But don’t cum yet, man. There’s a lot more we need to do.”
“Oh? You have my permission to do anything you want to my body, and he ran his finger along the shaft outlined in his Jockeys.
No way I wanted him to shoot his load into his undies before I tasted it. I reached for the sides of his briefs and shimmied them off his hips, but before discarding them, I pressed them to my nose and inhaled their scent. I’m sure Joanie or any other woman he’d been with hadn’t been driven to sniff his ripe undies. I’m being sarcastic. No wonder he looked taken aback.
There he sat naked, the object of my fantasies with his seven inches of hard cock, pink all over with an alluring fat mushroom cap jutting out well beyond the shaft. His generous mop of pubic hair framed his package and looked thicker than I expected. He’s a blond, after all. Gawd, I was grateful he didn’t trim or — worse — shave that area.
I glued my nose to his crotch and breathed in his sweat and musk, made stronger by the 85-degree Boston summer. My tongue settled into the hair that met his balls, then I did something else Joanie would never have entertained. I took one of his balls in my mouth and gently sucked on it, then added the other one. They were sweaty, just as I had hoped. Tim bucked up and down again and pulled my head downward, raising his knees up and moving his feet onto the sofa to give me an easier route. They were just the right size for me to free of their sweat.
“Tim, I am going to do something now that I know you have never had done to you before. Do you know what that is? Take a guess.”
“What are you going to do, Pete? So far, you’ve made me as hot as I’ve ever been — are you going to suck me off now?”
“Not just yet. You need to experience something else. I am going to stick my tongue up your ass, and you are going to love it.”
The shocked look on his face said it all. “You’re kidding me. You’d do that? You gay guys are kinda dirty.”
Without replying, I grabbed a pillow from the couch and beckoned him to lift his body so that I could place it under him. As I pushed his legs up, his butt met my eyeline. There was a generous amount of hair surrounding his pink hole.
I gripped his hips and pulled his ass closer to my face and stuck my nose onto his hole. He smelled delicious — sweaty and funky with that scent that can only be found in such a tender and forbidden place.
“Are you sure you want to do that to my ass?” he said. I think it’s kinda weird. You’re right. I have never had that done before. I’ve never thought about my ass in that way. Is that a thing with you guys?”
“Yes, it is,” I replied. “It’s called rimming and It’s going to happen, and you will be amazed how it feels.”
He still sounded reluctant. “Pete, hold up. I’m not sure I want you to do that to me.”
“Ya know, if you want the excitement of trying something different you have to be willing to do something you’ve never done before,” I said.
I was pulling out all the stops because I wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip through my fingers. How many gay guys get to rim a beautiful straight guy’s hairy blond ass?
My tongue was next to meet its target. Of course, it tasted as fragrant as a man’s ass should be. I moved my tongue around the edge and lathered him, licking the outside to gauge his reaction. “Feels good, right?”
“Hmmm… I’m not sure yet,” he said. Before he could elaborate, I pushed my tongue all the way in as far as I could and rotated my tongue. He was funky, but not dirty. It tasted as if he’d been sitting on his butt all day in the heat. Not that I minded.
His response couldn’t have been more clear. “Fuck, Pete. Please keep doing that. I’m feeling an electric charge right down to my toes. You are a fucking master at getting me excited. Now i know what you were talking about.”
I had found a convert to getting his ass licked, and it was gratifying. I pushed my tongue in deeper, then all the way out, then back in as he thrashed about. I checked out the rapturous look on his face.
Could this serendipitous night be going any better?
To be continued
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