Does he know?

What he did to me?

How me made me feel?

Does he?

I wanted to tell him, but I didn't want to look pathetic or weak. I needed to be strong for myself - but vulnerable.


And open to the possibilities.

He asked me if I felt that way, and I told him I did.

The truth is - I was terrified. I hadn't been on a date in years.

Was I going to screw it up? Would I do the wrong thing?

It was something I had been looking forward to like no other - at least in recent time.

I had put all my mental eggs into one basket without even realizing it.


I didn't want to eat that day. I binged on coffee and almonds. And at 4pm, I showered and packed my bag. I didn't know if I was going to need it - but I packed it anyway. I had plans to stay with a friend if things didn't work out. But I hoped they would work out.

He intrigued me.

The drive into the city felt like an eternity. As the car sped along the two-lane highway towards the west, I had butterflies dancing in my stomach. And as I crested the big hill which lead down into the valley I thought I might even lose it.

My phone chirped and it was him.

'I'm leaving now, where are you?'

I told Siri to text him back for me - Voice to Text you know - and she did. God I love technology.

Where the highway turned to Interstate and spread out to 4 lanes of traffic - I pressed the accelerator even harder.

I didn't want to be late.

We had agreed on 6pm. It was reasonable. An early dinner.

I had no expectations. I kept telling myself, "You just need to go with it. Everything will be fine. Just breathe."

She asked him if he was going to bail on me - well - you know what I mean.

A moment of ridiculous insecurity and I felt exposed.

"I shouldn't have said that," I said aloud to myself

I bit my lip.

He said, "See you in a few" and the butterflies launched again.

"I can do this. It's just dinner - two strangers sharing a meal in a public place."

Was I that out of practice?

Oh god - "Pull it together man!"

I pulled the car in to a full parking lot. He drove a Jeep and it was the only one there.


A wrangler

Very utilitarian - "I like it"

And there he was, faded blue jeans, flip flops, a tight blue t-shirt, and glasses.

"Shit - he's better in person."

As I opened the door, I hesitated to stand. "Just breathe - you are fine."

I should have popped a Xanax - but I refused.

I could do this.

Sober and without anything to filter out anything that might need filtering out.

I wanted this.

I needed this.

He stopped and looked over at me.

Did he smile?

Oh god!

He's looking at me.

"Lock and load," I said to myself.

So I stood up straight and walked right towards him.

Smile, breathe, and check him out.

Oh - very nice. Very nice indeed.

He was - quirky. Or should I say - goofy. Nah - that isn't right.

He was handsome - good looking - reminiscent of a very young Rock Hudson.

He looked... NERVOUS

He looked nervous.

Thank god it wasn't just me.

We had introduced ourselves seven days earlier through one of those social apps you can download to your phone.

Ok - it was Grindr.

No wait - it was Growlr.

I had noticed him right away.

Fantastic dark hair. Coiffed with a crisp part on the right side. Dark brown beard. And these illusive eyes.

"What color are they?"

He told me they changed depending on the light.

That afternoon, outside the restaurant, they looked brown.

'That can't be right'

"It's nice to finally meet you," he said, "Your very handsome."

He leaned in, and I wasn't sure what was going to happen - so I froze.

It turned into the most awkward side hug I have ever experienced in my life. So I laughed nervously to ease some of the tension.

I think it worked.

He giggled a little and said, "Uh, okay." There was an awkward pause and then he raised his hand to indicate the door, "shall we?"

"Yes." I said with a deep exhale.

Had I been holding my breath since I got out of the car?

We walked towards the door and I noticed the slightest hint of lime and cedar wood. I wasn't sure what it was exactly, but it appealed to me. Later... much later... I would know how I recognized it.

The hostess looked us both over and smiled, then showed us to our table.

It was loud and bustling with people - clearly a popular spot for a Friday night dinner out. And it smelled amazing.

He walked in front of me and I couldn't help but look at him.

His frame was slight and modest. He walked with confidence and I admired the way he carried himself. When he turned back and asked if I was checking out his ass, I laughed and said I was.

"Good. It's only fair, because I've been looking at you since you got out of your car."

My chagrin turned to a full on smile.

He was very charming.

I liked him.

Over the previous several days I had come to understand that he didn't mince words. He said what he thought and made sure you knew it. I found his forwardness refreshing and bold. As an actor, he was clearly used to saying what needed to be said. And as a seasoned croupier, he was a keen observer of people's actions and words. He could 'read' people, and parts of me found this unsettling.

You see...

He read my stories.

These stories.

One of the many before this one.

In his mind, he had formulated an opinion of who I was as a writer and a person. He told me that my voice was very clear in everything that he had read. And that he liked them.

The stories - that is.

He told me he hadn't ever had an interest in pornography but that my tales had affected him. He had wanted to know more about me as a person and to know whether the stories were completely fiction or based in some exhibitionistic truth.

And I told him what I could.

I told him that the stories were in fact based on truths, and glamorized to superfluous fictional extremes. And when I had admitted that - I felt exposed and embarrassed. Ideas and fantasies that have lived inside me for so many years and then expressed in words for everyone to read had finally been put to the face.

My face.


These stories are me.

And now someone who'd read them was sitting in front me eating an Athenian salad and sipping on lemon tinged water.

"So I'm fascinated by your stories - as you know."

I couldn't look him in the eyes and nervously searched for an olive in my salad.

"How much of them is really you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Have you really done all of the things in your stories?"

I hesitated and then had to remind him they were fiction.

"But all fiction is based in some form of reality. So what part of them is from your reality?"

I told him the people were all real. That in each story, each person I mentioned is in fact a real flesh and blood human being with whom I had some type of friendship or relationship with. That many of the instances did indeed happen, yet some were also sensationalized as a need to express my own fantasies.

"So by your own words, you like young ripped and cut muscle jock boys who like to fuck really hard. Would that be safe to say?"

The olive almost fell out of my mouth.

Was he serious?

"Because if it is, then why are you here with me? I am clearly not any of those things."

I cringed at his words.

"And you have a thing for smells. You're quite articulate at expressing every aspect of sex between two people. You incorporate every touch, taste, and feeling as a sensation that I could imagine in my head. It tells me you pay attention to the details in any given moment. I really liked that. "

"Um, thanks?"

"No, I'm serious. I hope you don't think I'm being to forward."

I sensed my own humility beginning to engulf me and I felt as if I wanted to run out the door. He was critiquing me and I wasn't sure if I should have been offended or grateful. He was staring at me and the pressure was becoming uncomfortable.

"Uh - I think you're blushing."

I smiled and looked away. "Wow - I've never had anyone give me that kind of feedback before."

"Oh - well you're welcome."

"You should know that those stories are not completely reflective of who I am as a person. You do know that right?"

I was back-peddling, but it was useless.

"Well of course, which is why we are here. I wanted to get to know you better."

"Ok - good."

"But they come from you - so part of you is inside them. You cannot deny that."

"No, I suppose not."

"You should also know that I'm finding it really difficult to not come across this table and kiss you."


"You're blushing even more."

My cheeks felt hot and inflated as I smiled wide and had to look away. What is it with this guy?

"Yes - I am blushing." I shook my head and looked him in the eye, "you have me at a complete disadvantage."

"Yes I know. But it is one that you created when you told me you are a writer; and it's something that I've found quite useful."

"Well - how very valiant of you."

He smiled and took another bite of his salad.

I went into this... date... with absolutely no expectations.




I was merely wanting to meet someone new and have a fun evening. Sex was not on my agenda.


Not consciously on... my... agenda.

I was looking to find an emotional connection with someone. Up until this point, he displayed everything I was looking for in a man. He was interesting and interested.

He was cute and charismatic.

He was real.

And the more he spoke, the more I was drawn to him.

He had completely disarmed me and I felt at his mercy. I must admit - I became lost in our time together.

He was funny and charming, sexy and seductive, bold and brazen. I remember asking him where he had been all my life and then recoiling at the use of the line.

"Ugh - I can't believe I just said that."

"Well I've been here, and you've been there. So who knows what will happen next."

I really didn't know what to expect, but my curiosity was getting the better of me. I shifted in my chair and felt the need to adjust myself.

"Are you okay?"

"Oh - yes. Just needing to adjust a little."

"It's that good huh?"

I wasn't exactly sure what he meant by that, but I went with it.

I paid for dinner and he seemed surprised. Had I missed the part where we agreed to split it?

"Do you always carry so much cash?"

"I don't know. Is it?"

"Well, it's just not something you see very much anymore."

"My dad always told me to keep at least a hundred in cash on me - in case the machines decided to stop working one day."

"That's good I suppose."

We left the restaurant with plans to see a movie later, but had some time to kill before it started.

"You're not getting in my car", he said, "it's a mess and I'm too embarrassed to let you in it."

"Oh - okay. Do you want to drive separate?"

"Unless you want to drive."

"I can"


We walked to the car and I was slightly ahead of him. I shouldn't have been surprised when he touched my ass, but I was.

"Nice", he quipped

"Not very subtle are you."


I couldn't help but feel giddy. I've never had anyone respond to me that way he did.

Typically, I'm your classic - 'let's wait and see how it goes before we start fondling one another' - kind of guy. I can count the number of one-night stands I've had on three fingers. It may be sad, but it is true. Two with men, and one with a woman. In all three instances, they were horrible mistakes that resulted in one head taking over for the other. And I never took joy in them.

You could say I have "trust" issues. I have the need to feel safe with someone before I take off my pants. I thought of myself as a gentleman, and not a presumptive one.

He assured me that he was too.

But honestly, I wanted him to touch me. I would have laid down in the parking lot and let him ravage me right there - had it not been for the multitudes of small children and young families on their way to and from the restaurant.

Where did all these fucking people come from?

He opened the passenger door to my car and before he even sat down I heard him say, "Of course it's spotless in here." And when he sat in the seat he said, "Jesus - and it smells good too."

"It's called Amber Spice."

The doors closed and as I grasped my seat belt he said, "I have to do this now."

He reached for the back of my neck and pulled me towards him. I turned my head just in time for his lips to meet mine and feel his tongue press into me. I opened my mouth and took him in.

His tongue was warm and soft.

I inhaled deeply and let out the slightest moan.

His lips were full and soft and I couldn't help but nibble at them.

As he went to pull back, I grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him back into me. I felt him smile as my lips pressed against his and I pushed my tongue into his mouth.

He tasted savory and smoky.

I knew he smoked - Marlboro Menthol - to be specific. It was a habit I had broken a long time ago and he told me not to judge him because of it.

I didn't.

Had it not been for the ridiculously tall center console in my car that separated us - I would have climbed on top of him. I was half tempted to recline his seat and encourage him into the back. But when I pulled back to look into his eyes...

His blue green eyes!

I noticed a father and his daughter standing in front of my car looking in at us.

"We have an audience" I said with a laugh.

He looked and giggled as well. When he waved at the little girl, the father cupped her shoulder and ushered her away.

"Scandalous" he whispered.

"Dinner and a show," I chuckled, "Bonus."

"I'm not sure he feels the same way."

"No - probably not."

"But then again - she will grow up in a world where what we just did is as common as breathing."

I adored his optimism and knew he was right.

We exited the parking lot with haste.

In a random musical moment, "Money Can't Buy It" by Annie Lennox slid to the top of my shuffled playlist and it seemed surreal.

As the speaker's reverberated, I felt a sense of calm wash over me.

It felt... good

And I smiled.

"This is a good one", he said.

The sun was setting as we headed west towards the theater.


It was 90 minutes till the show started.

We chose the film more so out of convenience than desire.

Was this a push?

Dinner was nice, but I couldn't help but wonder if I should have given my thanks and gone home. He has asked me what I wanted to do after dinner, whether to go for a walk or get some ice cream; I said it didn't matter.

I wanted more of him, but it seemed to be moving too fast.

And he seemed very determined to get in my pants. Which I rather enjoyed the notion of.

In the days prior to us meeting, he was persistent in asking for more photos of me that what was available in the app.

"Send me a naked full body side view."


The idea repulsed me, moreso out of my own insecurities. But I guess this is part of the dance. And what did I have to hide?

I obliged, but it wasn't a nude. I'm much more modest than the characters in my stories.

And for that matter - much older.

The truth is, I missed my old body. The one that was tight and cut from playing basketball and football in school. Over the years things sag and I wasn't comfortable with how I looked naked anymore. I was working on it, but having trouble accepting the fact that I'm not as young as I used to be.

And he recognized this.

He called me out on it.

"It's okay. You are who you are. I am who I am. I'm not someone who goes to the gym 8 hours a day, nor do I plan to be."

"But the difference is - you actually look good naked." His naked body was prominently displayed on my phone.

"Well thank you - but I'm sure you do too."

I appreciated his kind words, but I couldn't bring myself to do it - no matter how much flattery he afforded.

I did manage a few shirtless photos, for which I felt completely ridiculous in providing. And he told me I looked sexy.

Ugh! That was not the word I would have chosen for myself.

Clearly I have issues and a long way to go.


Once the car was in park, he kissed me again. And it felt as good as the first one. Even better actually.

I found myself wanting to please him. To reciprocate the joy he was filling me with.

You see - it had been over 2 years since I was with anyone.

After my divorce, I became reclusive. I worked, wrote, finished my third degree, and tended to my children.

I was busy.

I ignored my needs.

And when my ex said, "You need to put yourself out there. I want to see you be happy again. Do it for me?"

I couldn't disagree with her.


"What should we do for the next hour?"

"How about coffee? I think there is a Scooters around here somewhere."

Siri told us where to find it and we started walking.

We made small talk and laughed at each other's stories.

I wanted to hold his hand, but it seemed presumptive and inappropriate.

We'd only been with each other a couple of hours.

So we walked close enough to brush shoulders every now and then, and it worked just as well.

Over coffee, he told me about his theatre work and his years as a dealer in a casino. He talked about his previous two marriages and his life growing up as a Mormon navy brat. He spoke of his mission work in South America and I was captivated.

I noticed that as he spoke, he continued to eye the people that walked by us.

When I commented on this he told me that he didn't "do well" in crowds. Which I found ironic considering his career dealt with working with hordes of people.

"But when I'm on stage it's not about me - it's about bringing the character to life. And when I was behind the table - I had the control. I'm there to take your money - and I'm damn good at it."

He said he was the house, and the house always won. Maybe not in the moment, but over time they always did.

"So you have control issues?"

"I wouldn't go that far."


"No. I'm a 41 year old out of shape submissive bottom who smokes. Does it seem like I have control issues? I'm very comfortable in who I am."

"Well, I've always thought bottoms had all the power."

"So you're saying you're a top?"

"No - that's not what I'm saying."

"Do you want to be?"


"Yeah?" he said with a grin.

I couldn't help but chuckle. Our banter was priceless.

It was a few minutes before the show was to start, and we began our walk back. As we wound our way back to the theatre, he chose to cut through a parking garage. The sun was setting and the garage was dimly lit.

As most parking garages are I suppose.

And it was void of people.

It was here that he pulled me around a corner and into the dark recesses of the structure.

He grabbed me by the neck and pulled me in for a long and hard kiss.

I wrapped my arms around him.

It was bliss.

I felt his cock gouge into my thigh; my own dick sprung.

My hands traveled down his backside and cupped his ass, pulling him even harder into me. His jeans were soft and thin.

I grasped his cheeks firmly and heard him moan aloud.

I felt ready to burst in my pants.

I wanted him - as much as I have wanted anything in my life - I wanted him.

To consume him.

In any way imaginable.

I lost myself in his embrace.

As he kissed my neck, I exhaled heavily and melted.

"Oh god..."

"Uh huh"

His body writhed against mine and I found it difficult to stand.

I slid a hand inside the back of his jeans and felt the waist band of his jock strap just before my fingertips felt the downy of hair covering his ass.

He felt amazing.

And just as I felt I was going to lose it right there - he pushed me away.

He nodded to someone behind me and when I turned, I saw an elderly man making his way up the ramp.


"Yeah - we should probably just go inside."


I had to take a moment to adjust the boner in my pants and he took humor with that. I told him he was going to ruin me and he laughed.

"Are you having fun?" I asked him.

"Oh yeah, I'm having a great time!" he chuckled.

As we walked towards the theater I noticed the multitudes people and I wondered how many had seen us. And then I thought, 'I was with a hot guy and he made me feel amazing - so screw everybody else' and I went with it.

I felt lighter than air.

At least until the heel of my foot screeched at me and I realized I was getting a blister from my shoes.

In the darkness of the theater, I had a million scenarios race through my head and the possibilities to take him seemed endless. Would we be here all alone? Would he drop his pants for me? Would I for him? At that point I was up for anything, and felt as if he were too.

The film wasn't a hit by any means (Sinister 2), and I hoped we would have some privacy. But we didn't. The seats were not ideal for cuddling as I had hoped. In fact, they were downright uncomfortable.

We spent the next 97 minutes with our hands in each other's crotches tugging and pulling on our respective boners, sneaking kisses in the dark, giggling, and pinching each other nipples. Half way through he left to go smoke and I took a moment to catch my breath.

After surveying the theater, I thought, "What the fuck am I doing?" The length of foreplay was beyond unbelievable and I had an extreme case of blue balls. But I didn't want to give up. I wanted to see it through.

So I waited.

And when he came back, I kept my hands to myself as much as I could.

Outside the theater we walked quickly to the car where we resumed our make-out session. I was twisted in my seat and completely constricted between my legs. Why had I chosen to wear such tight pants?

"You can unbutton them," he said.

I really just wanted to take them off and spread eagle. But my engrained modesty and lack of self-confidence prevented me from being seen as a total whore in public.

"So what do you want to do," he asked.

"I should probably call my friend and tell him I'm on my way."

"You are staying in town tonight?"

"Well, I didn't want to drive all the way home, only to come right back a few hours later for work. Its 50 miles each way. So I have a bag with my scrubs in the trunk."

"Oh I see..."

There was an awkward pause, but when he asked if I wanted to stay with him I didn't hesitate to accept.

"You will need to wait though. I need to clean up my house a little. I've been working and it's a mess."

"So you didn't plan on me coming over tonight?"

"No, I didn't. You said this was just a date and you have this rule about no sex on the first date. Or was it the fifth date? In any case, I respect that - I'm a gentleman. You can sleep on the couch."

I almost laughed at his words.

A gentleman?

The couch?

Everything he had said and shown to me in the last several hours indicated only the eventual outcome of sex. I thought he was being sarcastic.

But he wasn't.

At the time I didn't realize it, but he had much more self-control and experience at this than I did.

He knew exactly what he was doing and had been in control since the beginning.

I'm not entirely sure what happened in the 8 minute drive back to restaurant, but when I parked next to his Jeep we started kissing again and I couldn't hesitate to open his jeans and pull his cock out.

He was warm, wet, and swollen.

"Oh my, are you sure you want me to sleep on the couch?" I asked.

As I grasped the shaft of his cock, his nectar dribbled against my fingers and I used it to stroke him. He took deep breaths and I saw his eyes roll back into his head.

"Oh yeah..." he whispered.

His cock was large, tight, and smooth. It felt amazing. My mouth watered as I began to kiss his neck.

The inside of his jock was wet and felt cool against the backside of my hand.

"You've been worked up for a while haven't you?"

"What do you think?"

In that moment it felt as if I had taken the lead and I sensed him giving up some of the control he had been exuding over me since we first lay eyes on each other.

I liked it.

I liked him.

I ran my hand down the length of his prick, cupping his balls, and then extending my finger into the crease of his ass. It was hot.

So hot.

He oozed from the tip of his cock and it made contact with my wrist. After shifting my arm, I pressed myself into him again and he squirmed.

I circled his asshole ever so gently and felt him shift and bear down into my hand. His legs were wide, and he slid his jeans down enough for me to get my hand under him.

I took his ear into my mouth and sucked hard as I continued to stroke him and I felt myself beginning to lose control.

My middle finger stroked against the puckered hole and I wanted to press it inside of him.

My breathing intensified and I was getting close to having a mess.

It felt so good.

The way he moved against me and with me.

And then it happened.

I came.

With no manual stimulation other than the pressure from my own pants.

And I paused.

Dead stop.

And held my breath as my cock pulsed out its hefty seed into my boxer briefs.

When I realized what had happened I checked to see if he had noticed, but he didn't. He was centered on himself.

So I continued.

And when he said, 'I think we should go now' I didn't hesitate.

I pulled my hand up from between his legs, swiping my thumb across the head of his cock and raising it to my mouth. I looked him in the eye and said "yes" before slipping it between my lips.

He tasted good.

"Oh fuck..." he whispered, as he watched me savor him.

Before he closed the door, he looked back at me and asked if I was sure about this.

"I've never been more certain."

As we drove to his house, the song "At Last" by Etta James shuffled to the top and began to play.

I looked down at my phone in astonishment and wondered if it was some kind of cosmic joke. I almost expected the stars in the sky to congregate and align like a giant neon arrow pointing the way to his home.

I followed him in haste.

And when I pulled in behind him in the drive way, I took a moment to remove my shorts. I couldn't take it any longer. I had to get out of them.

As he watched me step out of the car, he chuckled when he saw me standing in my underwear.


"Much", and I planted another kiss on him. I felt him smile against me and my heart melted again.

We walked into the house hand in hand and when the door closed, I tore his clothes off of him.

He pulled off my shirt and grasped my crotch.

"Oh! Someone is really excited."

I didn't know if he was talking about my gooey shorts or the half flaccid dick underneath them. I couldn't tell him I'd already finished, because I didn't want to be done with him.

And I was committed.

Committed to making sure he finished as well. I wanted him to feel as good as he had made me feel.

He guided me backwards across the living room into the adjacent bedroom and pushed me back on to the bed with a flop.

"Do you have a safe word?"

"A safe word?"

"Yeah, it's important."

"Uh..." I remembered a joke about using 'Pineapple' - so I repeated it.

"Really? Mine is Pomegranate."


And it began.

My heart was racing and my head spinning as he lay on top of me and we kissed. He moved down my neck and chest, and settled into my navel. The scruff on his chin itched and tickled me. I was getting hard again.

He took me in his mouth and sucked long and hard. I froze and tensed with anticipation and fear.

If he didn't know I had popped before, then surely he knew now.

After a bit, he began to slowly move up my body and I couldn't catch my breath. His hands grasped my sides, and his smooth flesh slid along my torso at a snail's pace. I felt every centimeter of him.

His warmth

His heartbeat

The tiny hairs on his chest.

And the cold hard steel of his nipple rings.

Yes, he was pierced.

And I wasn't quite sure what to do about that. Do you pull on them? Do you suck on them? I just didn't know.

So I improvised.

And then I felt it.

His stiff prick slid between my legs and into my bush.

When he started to grind into me, I grasped his ass and pulled him down tight.

It was better than I could have ever imagined.

The way he tasted and smelled.

The feeling of his hairy legs sliding against mine.

Our feet shuffling over one another's.

The weight of his body pressing against me and my backside into his mattress.

It was incredible.

The window AC hummed out cold air behind us and the only light was from a street lamp across the street.

He kissed me feverishly, our tongues lapping away at each other and I knew I had an opportunity to take him.

So I rolled him over and got on top of him.

I saw his smile in the dim street light and felt accepted.

I felt safe.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm great" I replied and I kissed at his neck and shoulders.

I raised his arm over his head, exposing his underarm and a fan of dark hair. It has always been a favorite spot of mine.

I nestled my nose into it and took a deep breath of him.


It was the same deodorant I used.

I kissed and licked his underarm, out to his bicep and took a nibble.

He squirmed and I smiled.

I continued to kiss his torso down the left side and over to his nipple. I used my nose to flip his piercing up and down, and then lifted it with my tongue and pulled ever so slightly.

"Careful" he said.

When I looked up into his eyes, he was smiling again and I kissed him softly on the lips. He cupped the back of my head and it happened.

I felt it.

The spark of a connection.

We were two men enjoying each other. Having shared our minds, we were now sharing our bodies.

It felt safe.

I felt safe.

When he pressed his hips into me, his cock nudged at my stomach.

I slowly began to work my way down his chest.

I wanted to take my time.

I wanted him to enjoy it as much as I was.

Kissing his sternum, I could feel his heart pounding in his chest.

He was excited.

With each contraction of his heart, his cock would surge a millisecond later.

I placed my arms on each side of him, and grasped at his upper back. My fingers spreading out and pressed against his cool flesh.

He turned his head to the side and raised his arms. My thumbs pressed into his underarms and down his sides.

He raised his legs and wrapped them around my waist.

His cock was now at my chest.

I traced the center of his abdomen with my tongue and circled his navel slowly, before shifting my arms under his legs and him placing the underside of his knees on my shoulders.

His cock was under my chin.

The head tickled as the hairs on my beard, and his clear nectar clung to my neck.

I opened my mouth and the head of his prick moved slowly up my chin and between my lips. My tongue slid out and flattened against the underside of his massive cock and I paused to savor him.

There is a moment when you are confronted with a dick that you realize you need to adjust your strategy. You see, he felt smaller in my hand than when sliding into my mouth. And it threw me.

I was struggling to get him all the way in, and when his "Jacob's" piercing clinked against my lower teeth, it felt like hammer hitting a Pyrex baking dish.

I was completely inexperienced and unprepared for that.

Yes - I knew he had a shaft piercing.

Of course I did.

But I honestly hadn't given it a second thought until the steel balls on either side of his piercing were rattling against my molars. It was like being at the dentist.

I'm terrified of the dentist.

That type of fear is not something I like when I'm laying naked atop someone.

What had been pure unwavering pleasure and rapture had suddenly become work.

A chore to be completed.

A task to be checked off.

I wanted it to be the best god damn blow job he'd ever had.

I wanted to give him so much pleasure that he filled me with his seed.

I wanted to feel him become part of me.

To feel his hot milky essence spill into my throat and invade me.

So I went to work.

A full on assault of his piercing manhood.

My mouth was watering uncontrollably and I felt like a dog with a freshly butchered bone.




I inhaled his musky scent and became lost in the valley of his thighs.

My tongue lapping at the frenum, strings of clear nectar trailing from the slit in the head outreaching to the hairs on my chin.

Pressing the backside of his cock, I pushed it down and swallowed him whole. My tongue outreached and flattened to buffer the piercing against my teeth. The head became lodged in the back of my throat and I gagged.

"Oh god..." I heard him say.

With my mouth and hand, I began to rhythmically suck and stroke him. My head sliding up and down his shaft, pulling and working to coax the seed from his loins.

His balls shifted in their sack and I felt them against my chin.

I pulled off, and took them in my mouth. Gently tugging and sucking. His oblong little nuggets floating against my tongue.

Where his prick emerged from between his legs, it surged and pressed into my face. I went further down and sucked hard on his cock root.

He moaned.

It was then that I realized I hadn't gone far enough.

His ass.

His beautiful ass.

It was right there, neglected, and wanting.

I buried my face into the cleft and pressed hard. My tongue searched for his hole and when I found it - he flinched.

"Uh huh..." he said.

From here I lifted his hips up off the bed, and the legs flopped forward.

Like a rose opening into full bloom - I saw it.

His tantalizing little fuck hole.

The aroma was hypnotic.

Saliva escaped the sides of my mouth and I hungered for it.

Time seemed to stand still as I gazed at it.

At him.

The sweaty tendrils of hair that encircled the beautifully aged doorway to his insides.

I wanted so badly to be inside of him

Fucking him slowly


Sliding my cock in and out of his tight little ass

I puckered my lips and gently kissed it.

My tongue crept out and slowly slid over its surface.

It was hot and pungent - salty.

My mouth watered even more.

"Oh my god..." I said under whispered breath.

I kissed it again


My nose being straddle by his nut sack.

I closed my eyes and savored him.

Kissing and suckling at this sacred place between his legs.

The touch of the backside of his hand to my forehead brought be back, and he began to stroke himself as I indulged between his buttocks.

"You like that baby?" he said softly.

"Uh huh..." I replied.

"So do I"

I continued on until I noticed he was stroking himself even faster.

I didn't want him to bring his own release.

I wanted to do it for him.

I wanted to fuck him.

I wanted to slip into his precious little hole and pound his ass while I yanked his cock into a convulsive explosion of ecstasy!

I told him I wanted to be inside him.



"Are you sure? This is pretty good right here."

"No - I want to fuck you."

He reached into his nightstand and pulled out small bottle.

"What is that?"

"It's more for me than you. It's a natural oil based lubricant."

It was gun oil.

In that instant, I realized how unprepared I truly was.

There was no condom, there was no water based lubricant - which is a personal preference of mine.

Everything seemed to become...


I watched as he placed oil in his ass, then swabbed some on me, then took to massaging it into his own cock.

I hadn't realized my erection went from hero to zero and when I tried to press into him - it didn't work.

"Are you okay?" he asked

I looked down and pulled on myself.

"Uh, yeah - I just need to... Um..."

I saw him look down too and a wave of shame washed over me.

"It's okay - let me help you."

I looked up and out the window. A car passed quietly in the street and my frustration grew; but nothing else did.

'What the fuck just happened?' I asked myself.

I looked down at him and saw he was looking up at me.

He smiled, and I kissed him.

That helped.

I kissed him some more.

And then I heard him say, "There we go"

I was coming back.

"Oh thank god" I said

I reached down and pulled hard at the base of my dick. Like pulling on a deflated balloon, the head surged and I came back to life. It wasn't as hard as I would have liked, but it would get there. I just had to keep going.

"You got it?" he asked.

"I'm sorry"

"It's okay - it happens. Just don't stop."

When I thought it was "hard enough" I lifted his legs, positioned myself, and pressed into him.

Did it go?

I couldn't feel it.

I looked into his eyes and saw that it hadn't.

I was getting more and more frustrated.

He reached down and tugged on me some more.

I was embarrassed.

I wanted to run out of the room.

But his hands worked there magic, and I was beginning to come back again.

"There we go."

And with his words, I pressed into him again.

This time, I felt it.

"Oh fuck - it's tight"

The head of my prick pressed through him and it felt as if I was in a vice.

I tried to advance myself into him, but it bent along the shaft and I felt pain.

I pulled back and he gasped as I slid out.

In my head I thought, "This can't be happening... this can't be fucking happening..."

It did.

And I tried again.

But I was spent, and couldn't maintain. The humiliation and embarrassment had gotten the better of me and I was defeated.

"I'm so sorry." I said to him.

When he reached down and began to stroke himself, he told me not to move. So I didn't.

And when he came, I felt horrible.

I rolled off him and looked up at the ceiling.

I reached down to check myself, and it as if my dick had gotten up and walked away.

It wasn't him - it was me.

Physically, I was spent. Sweating like some kind of farm animal, and when he cuddled up next to me and placed his hand on my chest, I was embarrassed.

"Are you okay? You are really sweating."

"Yep - I'm good. This is just me." I said with a sarcastic grin. I covered my face with my hands. I couldn't bear to look at him.

"Well I like it" he said with a smile.

"You do?"

"Yeah! And I really like your body."

Ugh! That was enough, his flattery seemed disingenuous and I even more pathetic.

It was too much.

"You are making my hands all prunie" he said with another chuckle, "Are you sure you are okay?"

"Yes, I will be fine. I got really worked up. I just need a minute," I curtly replied.

And he gave a minute before he started to stroke my flaccid little dick.

I had to tell him to stop.

"Can we just lay here for a minute?" I asked.


He got up, flipped on the light to put on a new pair of underwear, then shut it off, crawled back into bed, and sidled up next to me to spoon.

We lay there quietly until he fell asleep and I heard the cutest little snore.

I couldn't sleep.

It felt as if the most glorious daydream had turned into a fiendish nightmare.

I kept playing over the events of the evening and I felt ashamed of myself.

I was a failure.

A disappointment.

The reality was - I defeated myself.

In the morning, I showered and gave him a kiss before going to work. He smiled and told me he had an amazing time.

I doubted his sincerity.

I asked if I could call him later and he said yes.

We never spoke again.

It wasn't for a lack of trying.

Over the next several days we exchanged text messages and I hoped it would be enough. But as a couple of days turned into a couple of weeks, I knew we weren't ever going to happen.

He told me he thought I freaked out once we got back to his place.

And I did.

But I couldn't admit it.

I was embarrassed and disappointed in myself.

My insecurity and low self-esteem was waging a battle inside me I couldn't reconcile that night.

No matter how wonderful he seemed.

I wasn't ready.

He told me he needed to take the "emotional" part much slower now that we had the sexual tension out of the way.

What the hell does that mean?

I'm not a patient person, and I wanted more.

And definitely more than just a fleeting text message on one of his cigarette breaks.

His show had opened, and he was always at work or going to rehearsal. He was tired and told me so. I believed him. I could easily understand how he didn't have time for me. In the midst of his show beginning, he also developed a cold. He was exhausted and slept a lot. My nurturing side told me, "you should take care of him - it's what you do." And I wanted to. But he didn't need me. He had too much on his plate already.

I told him I wanted to take him out again after the play closed, and when he said he would like that - I felt a glimmer of something more than a one-niter.

But not even that was enough. So I pushed.

Yesterday he was getting ready for the evening production of the play and I really wanted to see him. I wanted to know if there really was anything between us. I wasn't getting enough of a read from him in the texts to satisfy me. A text message leaves so much open for interpretation that I couldn't deal with the uncertainty.

I couldn't swallow that pill.

When I asked if I could stop by and give him a hug before the show and he said 'yes', I was ecstatic!


An opportunity to see if there was anything - anything at all - of the spark I felt that night.

But on the drive over, he text me and said he was leaving his house.

I was practically there, but couldn't recall what street to turn on.

And when I saw the big round headlights of his maroon Wrangler coming towards me in the glare of the afternoon sun; I held my breath.

There he was.

So I turned the car around to follow him.

His Jeep motored down a side street and something inside me felt wrong.

Had he not seen me?

Was he playing a game?

I was up for a little chase.

Would he pull over alongside the road and come running toward me?

If I didn't pursue him would I miss a divine opportunity?

And he said he would take a hug.

Didn't he?

I couldn't read the entire message while driving so I took a chance and continued to follow him.

As it turns out, I received a text while driving that said, "Fairly creepy and invasive."

He knew I was following him and he didn't like it.

It was the slap to the face I had been waiting for and without so much as a miniscule hesitation; I replied "Goodbye".

There was one last text from him where he said he didn't like being followed and that he couldn't see me before the show. But I couldn't look at it, nor could I attempt to glean some type of cryptic message that would satisfy me enough to respond again.

I couldn't

I wouldn't

It was finally over and I knew I had sabotaged it; whatever 'it' may have been.

He didn't want to continue anything with me. My head knew this, but I couldn't get my heart to believe it.

I felt like an idiot.

Some school aged little girl with a crush who got her cherry popped and wanted Prince Charming to tickle her again.

What a joke.

I never wanted it to be a one night stand, and that's exactly what it had been.

I have a really difficult time believing all of this happened with no more of an outcome than mutual disappointment.

I'm frustrated.

I guess the house always does win.

I should have used the safe word.


Christian Crowne

[email protected]


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