I was at a party a number of years ago, with some friends of mine who were all pretty much gay. There were a few straight people there, which didn't really put a damper on anyone's exuberance, but rather made the more flamboyant seem even more so. At some point, after a number of drinks were consumed someone had the idea to put on some music, and inevitably something good turned up, which sent many of the guests into the middle of the floor to dance.
I was rather overwhelmed by this spectacle, and not wanting to have my drink knocked out of my hand I moved to the balcony outside. The building was of concrete construction, and we were on the eighteenth story, which was pretty high up. The view of the city was spectacular from this height, especially since this was one of the tallest buildings around.
For a while I stood there, smoking a cigarette and watching the smoke drift away instantly on the night breeze. It was early springtime, and there was a dense dampness in the air around me that was quite refreshing after the smoky atmosphere of the crowded apartment.
The door behind me opened, and another guy stepped out. I would have been in my early twenties at this point, and he was in his early forties, tall and thin with a mustache. He smiled and we made small talk. It seemed that he had drank enough to loosen his inhibitions, since it wasn't long before I felt his hand on my ass as I leaned against the balcony railing. He ran his hand over it, and then squeezed it while telling me I had a nice ass quietly in my ear.
I was getting a hard on right away, and I wanted to get into it with this guy right away. We stood there, my breath getting faster, and then he asked me if I had ever had my ass spanked before getting fucked. I said no, but that it sounded hot. We decided to go back to his place, which was a few minutes away by cab.
Having made our excuses to the hosts, who were still madly gyrating, we took a cab to his place, which was at a marina nearby. It seemed that Joe lived on a houseboat, and I was interested to see what his place would be like.
We walked down the docks for a while, passing several different kinds of boats on the way, many of them quite elaborate constructions with the usual sprinkling of embarked shacks in various states of order. Joe lived at the end of the wharf, on a moderate sized one with one floor and a loft for the bed. The outside was painted white and had a pattern of zebra stripes on it, with the outline of a man with a lawnmower and his children, all in black.
We stepped aboard and he gave me a quick tour of the place, mostly by pointing. It was a charming set up, and at the front, if there was one, the was a ledge where people could sit and which held a couple of potted plants and magazines. I felt his hand on my ass again, and his breath hot in my ear.
He reached around and undid my pants, which I stepped out of. He took off his own clothes pretty quickly as well, and then his finger was probing my bare ass gently. I bent over and sucked his penis for a while. It was a nice size, in good proportion to his body, and his balls hung loosely below him in the warm night air.
His fingers still played with my ass, and by this point he was starting to put them inside my ass. I had only recently discovered getting fucked at that point in my life, and I was still a little sensitive about it. Making that kind of confession of desire was still beyond red-hot to me, and though I wouldn't say so I knew that was what I wanted.
I loved sucking Joe's cock, it fit perfectly in my mouth, and he pushed it forward gently to put it deeper inside my throat. He reached up and turned on the stereo, where he had a Bowie album set up. A part of my mind wondered if his phonograph ever skipped when it got rough. The tunes came out and surrounded us. I was so happy and so turned on to be there.
After a while he pushed me to my knees, and then put down a bottle of lotion on the shelf next to my face. I was supported by my elbows in a keeling posture, bent forward with my ass exposed behind me. His hand ran itself over me and again I felt his hot fingers probing into my anus.
I could feel his breath on my ass as he closely inspected it. He asked me if I liked to get fucked. At first I didn't know what to say, obvious, as the answer may seem. I was a little shy, and couldn't bring myself to answer.
'Do you know what we have to do guys who like to get fucked and won't admit it?, he asked. Without waiting for an answer he said 'we spank them for a while until they tell us, and then we fuck them.'
Suddenly, the hand rose up and came down against my ass with a dry crack. I started, but there wasn't much room to move forward without hitting my head on the bulkhead in front of me. The music in the background was loud enough to drown out the sounds of spanking that followed.
Again and again he spanked me, sometimes watching my face for any reaction, and then looking at my ass. My cock was rock hard at this point, and although I couldn't look him in the eye I knew what was to come.
He spanked me a few more times, and I tried to savoir the moment, and the sensation, since this was unique to my experience. He reached for the lube, and then rubbed it over my ass, and into the crack and to my asshole. I grunted and pushed against him. I said very quietly the word 'yes', and he looked down at my face and smiled.
He entered my ass gently, with one hand on my stomach as though he could feel his cock in there pushing against it. I had to take it all the way in and all the way out, which even though it was done slowly was still enough to make me gasp for breath. I loved this, and started to stroke my own cock. In a second I felt his hand come up and brush mine away from my penis.
He didn't let me touch myself for quite a while, until he had fully explored and enjoyed my ass as much as he could. I was relaxed and into this, and tightened my ass against his cock and tried to please him, feeling the texture of the lubricant slick inside my hole.
Finally he let me come, which was no more than a couple of strokes to my cock. He pulled out of my ass and then jerked off, coming pretty close behind me. We flopped on the shag carpeted floor and felt the slight motion of the boat in silence. That was so hot, I thought to myself. The phonograph clattered and stopped itself in some twisted mechanical algorithm.
We exchanged numbers, though nothing much ever came of that. I saw him once or twice more, usually through running into him in the same circumstances as those when we met, and usually with the same result, each time as hot as the last.