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This is a story that claims to be in two parts. It’s not. It’s the same story told twice, one from the Old Guy’s Perspective (Part 1) and the other from the Younger Guy’s Perspective (this Part 2). I don’t think it matters which you read first, if you decide to read both. Enjoy, read my other stories and let me know what you think at [email protected].
Brandon’s Story
I was in junior high when my Dad left for good. As far as I can recall, the only emotion I felt was relief. My Dad was barely around and when he was, he was verbally abusive to both my Mom and me. Too often it seemed like much of his verbal aggression was focused on me. I’ll never know why, I guess, but it just seemed like the guy didn’t like me. The feeling was mutual.
Enough about him. After he left, my Mom decided that we would be better off if we moved back to her hometown. She had a good friend who ran a very successful clothing store. An open invitation for a job was in place, partly because they grew up together but also because my Mom had worked for one of the largest clothing retailers in the region as a buyer. She had a keen eye for fashion and, importantly, she had solid relationships with all of the major vendors.
Returning to her hometown would also mean that we would be close to my grandparents. We didn’t see them that often so it would be good to get to know them. As my Mom explained, they could also be trusted “babysitters” when she had to go out of town on buying trips. I objected to the word “babysitter,” but I knew what she meant. I agreed that I wasn’t quite ready to stay at home alone for extended periods of time.
We moved back home just in time for school to start. I met Joe in my first class on my first morning. He was sitting beside me and leaned over and said, “you’re new in town, right? I’m Joe and if you need anything, any help finding your way around, just let me know.”
With that all my concerns about starting in a new school disappeared. If this guy was any indication, this was going to be ok. I ate lunch with him that day and we got to know each other. We had one thing in common: his parents were divorced but in his case it was his mother who left the family home. I was curious about that but didn’t press. I figured if he wanted to tell me about it, he would.
I also found out that he had 3 younger brothers and he lived just a few streets over from me. He invited me to come by his house after school. I texted my Mom to let her know. She texted me back quickly with a “thumbs up” emoji and told me that Joe’s dad was a couple of years older than her. She was at work and my guess is that it was a bit of a relief for her that I’d already found a friend.
I guess I should mention at this point that I already knew or suspected I was gay. The porn I watched was gay porn. I beat off to fantasies about other guys.
But I was nowhere near out of the closet. I think my Mom knew—and I suspect that much of the friction with my Dad may have been related to him understanding it at some level. If so, fuck him. In any event, I knew that it would be tough enough fitting into a new school without adding the burden of my sexual orientation to the mix. So, I kept it to myself.
I walked home with Joe and we never stopped talking. I shared most of my life story with him and he shared with me what he wanted to share about his life. He warned me that his house would get “seriously chaotic” once his younger brothers got home from school. He told me that his Dad was “pretty cool” and went out of his way to make their house “the place” to hang out. He talked about his other friends and promised me that I would be readily accepted into the group.
His house was as advertised: outside was a pool (closed for the off-season) and inside, on the bottom floor, was a kids’ playhouse. The biggest attraction was the home theater, where we would watch tons of movies and play tons of online and video games. There was a fuss ball table, pinball machines and a pool table. It was a cool place to hang out.
Soon his brothers came home from school, towing along with them various friends, who either played hoops in the driveway or gravitated to the game room in the basement. Joe and I went to his bedroom. He sat on his bed, and I sat on his desk chair and we continued to talk. We bonded quickly and well that day.
At around 5 I was walking out the door when Joe’s father pulled into the driveway. Joe introduced me and I said, “nice to meet you Mr. Cather.” He and Joe both laughed and in unison said, “it’s Mr. C.” “Everyone calls me that,” his Dad said, smiling warmly. He asked me about myself, and he told me that he remembered my Mom and was glad to hear that she had come back to town.
My friendship with Joe grew from there. As promised, his friend group was welcoming, and I soon became just a part of the crowd. I spent many, many hours at Joe’s house. As I grew through various school grades, I got to know Mr. C better. He was always willing to talk and listen. We grew very close.
As for me, as I grew older, I began to feel a different type of attraction to Mr. C. I noticed early on that he was handsome. I also noticed that he had a nice body. He ran almost every morning and was in great shape. At night I often found myself fantasizing about him as I stroked a load out. Of course, he was oblivious to this side of our relationship—it was my secret.
When I fantasized about him, he always looked the same: a thin and firm body. I’d seen his chest plenty of times at their pool and knew that he wasn’t a very hairy guy. I imagined a nice cut cock and a manicured bush. When would I imagine that? Often at night when I stroked my cock, thinking about not just what his cock looked like, but what it might taste like and also what it would be to hold his balls in my hands.
My freshman year of college started. I attended a school downstate, about 3 hours from our village in the North Suburbs of Chicago. Before I knew it, it was Thanksgiving break. I caught a ride back home with a sophomore who had graduated a year ahead of me in high school. It was Tuesday night. My mom was traveling and would be home the next day. My grandparents were in Florida, so it would be just mom and me for Thanksgiving. I ordered a pizza and had a quiet night in.
The next day I did some chores around the house and then headed over to Joe’s house late in the day. We’d all agreed it would be our meeting place as we set out to celebrate our first semester at college, coming home and just finally being adults. Before we went out Mr. C and I chatted. I told him about school. As always, he was pleased to see me. As we were leaving, he cautioned us to be careful and reminded us to call an Uber or him if we didn’t feel like we had a sober driver. Honestly, that coming from any other parent would be almost slightly annoying; from him it was just endearing. At least it was to me.
We went out. I drank moderately. I’m not a heavy drinker so that’s not unusual. I listened to my friends talk about their conquests at school and I joined in. Of course, when I told them a story about how I ate a girl’s pussy in the library stacks, the pussy wasn’t real—it had been a senior’s cock. But that’s a story for another day.
About 9 or so my mom texted me and told me that her flight east had been canceled. She was hoping to jump on one the next day, Thanksgiving. As I was now 18 and had spent plenty of nights alone, she knew I could fend for myself. But it being the holiday I could tell she felt bad.
After all this talk about sex with my friends, I was feeling pretty horny. I’d read the text and an idea formed in my mind. Of course, I knew about the Holiday Rule at Joe’s house—no sleepovers either the night before or the night of a holiday. So, I knew that if an exception were made I’d almost 100 percent certainly be alone in a downstairs bedroom. “How,” I wondered, “could I parlay that into an encounter with Mr. C?” I couldn’t quite get there in my thinking, so I gave that up. But the idea of not spending the night alone in my house took hold anyway, and I asked Joe what he thought. He texted his dad and within seconds I had an invite not just for the night but for Thanksgiving.
While I couldn’t figure out how I might seduce Mr. C, I was still anxious for the night to end and to head back to their house. Finally, around 12:30 the party started to break up and we all headed home. Joe and I stopped at my place, and I ran into pick up some toiletries and a change of clothes.
We arrived at Joe’s around 1. He said good night and headed upstairs. I headed downstairs. I still hadn’t figured out how I could manufacture a meet-up with Mr. C., and my hopes for that happening were quickly fading.
I sat on the couch. There was an old movie on the TV that I was barely paying attention to. My hand was down the front of my sweats, playing with my cock and balls. Idly cupping and holding my package was something that I inevitably did when I was alone.
I was staring at the screen thinking of excuses I could make for going up to Mr. C’s bedroom when I heard someone coming down the basement stairs. I looked up with a start because emerging from the stairs was the focus of my fantasy. My hand jerked up and out of my pants.
Mr. C walked over and as he moved closer to the couch he whispered, “Hey Bran. How was the night out?” He smiled at me and said something like, “Don’t feel self-conscious about that. Every guy likes to hold his package when he’s alone. It’s probably something innate—primitive.” We both laughed at that.
For a second, I couldn’t find words but then I observed for him that he had taught me most of the stuff I’m supposed to know about being a guy.
Mr. C smiled at that, saying that I gave him too much credit, but he’d take the compliment, he handed me one of the two beers he was holding. He sat down beside me and looked at what I was watching. It was an old movie, and two women were getting it on. They had tight bodies. I asked him if it made him hot.
“Absolutely,” he said. I love the way they explore each other,” or something like that, “How about you?”
I nodded my agreement. I took a drink of my beer and then suddenly I just blurted out: “but I’m not sure I get as turned on by watching too women getting it on as I might if it were two men.”
“What the hell,” I thought, “did I really just out myself to Mr. C as part of some ill-conceived plan to seduce him?” And, well, yes, that’s exactly what I did. I didn’t know where it would lead, of course, but now it was out in the open.
We sat in silence. I smiled at him and said, “Sorry, maybe that was too much for you?”
“No,” he replied, “I’m just processing. You just shared something very personal and important to you, and I want to make sure I thoroughly understand what you said.”
I smiled and said, “please, take your time.”
The minutes ticked by. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just a little bit weird. After a few minutes I whispered: “are we still cool?”
He put my arm around my shoulder and hugged me. “We are one thousand percent cool,” he said. “You know you’re loved in this house, by me and everyone in it. That doesn’t change….”
I sighed and snuggled against him.
We didn’t speak for a few minutes—both of us vacantly watching the screen, the volume turned all the way down.
Breaking the silence, I said: “I knew you’d be cool about this. I can’t tell you how many times I wanted to tell you. But we had such a special relationship, I didn’t want to risk ruining it.”
We talked for a while. Mr. C was more than cool. He was interested and, not surprisingly, supportive.
I dozed off for a bit. I woke up and I was still tucked under Mr. C’s shoulder. His even breathing told me he was asleep beside me.
Having a mind of its own, my hand started to rub his thigh. I could feel his strong muscles below his sweats. My hand was on the inside of his thigh, and I was rubbing close to his balls. I watched with hungry eyes as his cock started to tent his crotch. I was just about to grab it when I heard Mr. C say, “Bran, what are you doing?”
I mumbled something about not knowing I was doing it, and it was maybe part of a dream. The words felt lame as they left my lips.
I heard him whisper “don’t” and then “stop.” I looked up at him, and he smiled down at me. There were two ways I could have taken what I heard. I chose the one that led to more fun and asked him if he wanted a massage. He lay back on the couch, sighed loudly and said, “I think that would be great.”
“Yes,” he whispered, “but not out here. Go on into the bedroom. I just want to take a quick look around upstairs.”
I shut off the TV and the lights in the sitting area and then went into the bedroom. There was a queen bed, softly illuminated by a single night light. I pulled the blankets and the cover sheet down, making the bed ready for when he returned.
I stripped down to my white boxer briefs and stood by the bed, waiting for his return.
I heard the basement door close and then heard him coming down the stairs. Within seconds he was in the room, closing the door and locking it behind him.
As he came closer, I realized in the dim light that he was checking me out. His eyes were focused on my bulging pouch. That made me smile. I suggested that if he was comfortable, he should get completely naked.
He didn’t respond. He simply pulled the drawstring and dropped his sweats to the floor and then pulled his T-shirt up over his head and dropped it beside his sweats. I had a quick instant to admire his body. Very nicely defined chest. Thin waist. Not a lot of hair until you got to his crotch. There I noticed what looked like a nicely trimmed bush sitting at the base of a now semi-hard and semi-huge cut cock.
He lay face down on the bed parallel to the headboard.
I stood at the edge of the bed and took each of his feet into my hands. I rubbed the bottom of his feet lightly and then his ankles, as I made my way up to his calves. I cupped each of them in each hand and started to gently rub, up and back, from the ankle to the back of the knee.
I used my two hands to encircle each leg, massaging the front and the back at the same time. “That feels nice,” he whispered, “you’ve done this before?” “Yes,” I said, as I continued with long strokes up and down his lower legs.
I gradually moved up to his upper leg. I used a feather light touch, just flexing my fingers on his skin, to start. I then applied just a little bit more pressure to the back of each thigh. My hands crept up closer to his ass.
He had a nice, unblemished ass. It was almond-shaped. I rolled his globes around in each of my hands, using a circular motion. I traced a line down his ass crack as he reached under and adjusted his cock. I knew what that was about—I was sure he was rock hard and he was making an adjustment to take some of the pressure off.
I explored his ass cheeks, opening them to look at his beautiful, naturally bald hole. I reached down and grabbed his balls, moving my hand up to slightly stroke his cock. He moaned.
“You like that,” I whispered. He ground back against my hand and said “HMMMM.” I guess that was a response.
I grazed his hole and he quivered.
I pulled his cock back through his legs and started stroking it.
As I started to stroke his cock, he said, “Bran, we really shouldn’t…”
“Shhh,” I whispered, “I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking ‘I can’t take advantage of this younger guy.’ But you’re wrong. You are not taking advantage of me. If we go forward, you are just making me very happy and fulfilling a fantasy that I’ve had for many years now.”
He lay quiet. Did I stop to think what my comment might have sounded like to him? Absolutely not, because when he heard me he simply rolled over on his back. This was no longer a massage and we both knew it.
I smiled when he rolled over. His cut cock was beautiful; it had to be around 7”. It was standing straight up and looked majestic. It was fat and perfectly cut. His bush was neatly trimmed. I reached up and ran my fingers through his pubes. He moaned and spread his legs for me.
I was now stroking his cock with my hand and playing with his balls with my left. There was a little dew drop oozing from the slit. I leaned down and lightly licked it off with the tip of my tongue. As I pulled my head back from his cock, a string of jizz connected my lips to his cock head.
I groaned as Mr. C reached out and rubbed the pouch of my boxer briefs. My cock was rock hard and I craved his touch. I pushed against his hand. He said something about taking them off and pulled my waist band down below my rock-hard cock. I stepped back, reached down and rolled my undies down below my knees to my ankles, shucking them off onto the floor.
I asked him if he’d ever done this with a guy. “No,” he sighed. I continued to jack him off as he jacked me off. My fist was curled around his cock and pumping up and down. His hand was also curled around mine, but he was pushing and pulling toward and away from me. It felt awesome.
Then the most incredible thing happened. Exceeding my wildest fantasies, Mr. C cupped my face and pulled me down to his lips. Our lips met and instantly opened. We French kissed, our tongues exploring the inner reaches of the other’s mouth. I licked his tongue and his mouth and pulled back and licked his lips. It was like candy to me.
Our tongues wrestled with each other while I reached down and stroked his rock-hard nipples. I lightly pulled and teased them. He quivered and his cock jumped in my hand.
Mr. C then surprised me. He slid down and started sucking on my nipples, first the left and then the right. I have puffy nipples and he latched on to them like he was a 3 month old. He sucked hard and stroked my other nipple with his free hand. I arched back and he licked me and sucked, swirling his tongue around and around my very aroused nipples.
I repaid the favor. Sucking his nipples and kissing my way down to his cock. I had licked it earlier, but I’m not sure he had even noticed. I looked up at him and quietly asked if this was “ok”? He smiled, nodded and pushed my head down toward his hard beauty. When I got to his cock I let him know what I thought, “this is a real beauty. I knew you’d have a nice cock, but I never imagined it would be this nice”.
I held his cock in my right hand and studied it, as if I were a doctor performing an exam. I lightly kissed the tip and let my tongue swab and swirl the head of his cock. I love cock. I love the soft/hard and silky smooth of a hard cock slipping between my lips. That it was Mr. C’s cock that I was holding with my hand and my eyes was just unreal. I spit on his cock, watching as my thick saliva coated the head like a clear ice cream topping and then slid down all sides. I opened my mouth and dropped it over his cock, closing my lips just enough to let my tongue lick it, from top to bottom.
I took it deep. I felt it push past my flap. I did not gag. I’d serviced a senior at college with a 9” cock and had trained my gag reflexes well. I played with his balls while I licked and swallowed his cock.
I ran my finger from his bush to his taint and under to his ass, and back again. All the while, my mouth was working on that incredible cock—in and out, up and down, in and out, up and down. I loved his cock and made love to his cock like I’d never made love to a cock before.
I stopped for a minute and he groaned. But I stopped only long enough to saturate my right middle and index finger with spit. I then traced a line to his taint and then followed it back to his sweet little asshole. All the while I kept going up and down on his cock.
I took his cock back into my mouth, licking and sucking him from top to bottom. Meanwhile, my slick fingers made their way back to his asshole. I pushed against it. One finger slipped in and he groaned. “You ok,” I asked. “A little tight,” he said. But then he ground his hole back toward me.
“What he needed,” I thought, “was to be good and thoroughly eaten.”
I grabbed him by both hips, flipped him over and raised him up on his knees so that his ass was level with my face. I spread him open and leaned in. I pursed my lips and blew my warm breath on his hole. He squirmed but I held on tight. I leaned in further and my tongue found that wonderful clean and hairless hole. I licked his ass and plunged my tongue deep into him. I pulled back and spit on his hole and then went back in to eat him some more. I was on fire. I caressed and licked his inside sidewalls, licking down to the hole, I paused before plunging in, plunging out and then licking all about. My tongue became a serpent’s tongue, I flicked and licked and darted and tasted and tasted and tasted some more. All the while my right hand played with his balls and stroked his hard-as-steel cock.
My tongue was just inside him. Then I pushed it further and licked his insides. I sucked. I swirled. I licked and licked and licked. Mr. C was going crazy. I’m pretty sure no one had ever done this to him before. I played with his cock and balls and ate him like I was a hungry man who hadn’t eaten for 30 days or more. I licked, sucked, reared back and spit, licked again. Plunged my tongue in and out. I rimmed him like there was no tomorrow.
And he loved it! And it was for real. Not a fantasy. He ground his ass into my mouth and moaned, “ah, I’m going to cum.”
As he said those words, I left off rimming him and grabbed his cock and pulled it back through his legs into my mouth. I sucked him and played with his cock and balls with one hand while the other rubbed his hole and lightly explored it.
Seconds later he quietly yelled, “Arggghhhh, I’m cumming. I’m cumming.” I didn’t stop. Instead, I sucked harder and licked more. As he started to come I pulled his hose out of my mouth so I could feel his cum splash on my tongue. Jizz hit me on the tongue and the chin and the mouth and the nose.
As he slowed down, I took his cock back into my mouth, licking the jizz that coated it. As his cock grew soft, I continued to suck and lick. I love a flaccid cock that has just come almost has much as a hard cock. I licked and licked and licked. Savoring every drop and enjoying the softness of the cock now inside my mouth.
I pulled off his cock and then licked his pubes, thighs, balls and all around his groin from beneath. He fell forward and I scrambled up beside him. I told him that from the very day I met him I wanted to do that. We kissed, the taste of him still in my mouth. And dozed in each other’s arms.
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