Revival with Firebird

The lovely thing about gay chat sites is that they are totally anonymous. You say things to perfect strangers that you wouldn’t say at work or in the pub or where ever in real life. You mention something intimate to a person, of whom you have no idea how he looks like, and he answers it in an equally intimate way without recognizing the chat partner if he saw him in the supermarket next day.

But, on the other hand, there are chats and there are chats. Some of them are extremely brief, especially since I don’t appreciate single word messages like “Sex?” or “Fuck?”. Others take a little longer, but the real chemistry fails and it stays with only that chat. Other chat partners are worthy of more contacts than only one, because you are in doubt if there is mutuality and common grounds, eventually only to turn out to be a beautiful but surreal dream. But so every now and then there are the little pearls, that result in a long and repeated chat contact.

That was the way it developed with a man, who used the nick name “Firebird”. I couldn’t really explain it, but from our first chat on I felt a commonality. And with the rapid growth of the number of chats I had the strong idea we were soul mates. We were looking for the same thing: not the hard, raw sex but tenderness, respect and a sweet togetherness to enjoy each other’s bodies. Even apart from this erotic side, we could have been brothers, so close together were both our ways of thinking on a large diversity of topics. That the single picture in his profile showed a very attractive man as well was more and more an added benefit only.

I found his way of thinking, his feelings and his ability in expressing this in words more attractive than the perfect body of a Mister World.

After all this chatting it became inevitable that we agreed to meet up and look one each other in the eyes.

On the agreed Saturday afternoon I drove to his address in a village in the country. I felt a little apprehensive. I was fully aware that, even after all those long chats, part of them into nighttime, it might turn into a disappointment so I tried to prepare myself mentally for that as well. I was no newcomer on these sites, so it had happened before that I drove back home to no avail after having driven the same road with high hopes before.

After some searching around in the town I found myself in front of a normal house with a well maintained little garden in front of it and I rang the doorbell. I waited a bit tensed: on these chat sites fakers were a fact of life!

But no: no faker this time! The door opened and a kind voice said:

“Ah, there you are!”

“Yeah, sorry, I’m a bit delayed. I had to find my way around here”.

“No problem”, “Firebird” said, “You`re here, that’s the most important thing”.

I looked at him and my mouth fell open in amazement. And it was not only my mouth that dropped!

“Eric O’Connell!” I exclaimed,

“Jeremy Walsh!” he said, holding his breath.

“Impossible!” I muttered, “How long has this been?”

“Well”, Eric said with a pensive smile, “I guess about fifty years”.

He must be right! Eric and I were classmates in the third, fourth and fifth years of high school. We became close friends, but I freely admit that at first instance this friendship was not totally voluntary. We were both considered as the class’s outcasts: Eric was the typical nerd and me…? I was the always silent dreamer, who attempted to take his first steps on the wobbly road of prose and poetry and who had no talent at all to invent a striking and fast attack, which would ultimately lead to a guaranteed goal. Dreamer or not: I always found it amusing to see how my class mates enjoyed reading the short stories I wrote under AKA for the school newspaper and always had a good laugh over my teacher cartoons, that also ended up in the same newspaper, however under another AKA with nobody knowing who made these things in the first place. Being both outcasts we just teamed up with one another for mutual support and became friends out of necessity.

The funny thing was, that during our friendship I found out that Eric was not a nerd at all and I started looking at him with different eyes, actually with totally different eyes. When we went swimming together during the summer months I was hardly able to keep my eyes off him. Yes, I fell in love with him but Eric showed no reaction at all. So I decided to drop the matter. I had no intention to jeopardize our friendship for a silly love.

The friendship had an unexpected added bonus for me: Eric was a genius in mathematics. I was clearly not: when I saw a collection of x’s and y’s my forehead got wet with cold perspiration. And so it happened one day that we cycled home after school, me with a deep frown of concern on my face. I had bad feelings about the mathematics test the next day.

“Man”, Eric laughed joyful, “You look depressed today”.

I nodded despondently and sighed:

“Would you be happy if you know up front you’ve got another bad grade coming up”.

“Ahhh, the test you mean?” he asked with a broad smile.

I only nodded.

“Come on”, he tried to cheer me up, “That’s just a piece of cake!”

“Might be for you”, I said gloomy, making fully clear that his encouragement had fallen on deaf ears, “For me it is another small disaster”.

“Shall I help you out?” Eric asked, “Explain it all over again?”

I considered the offer: it couldn’t harm. Maybe the dime would fall and if not…well, at least I had done everything I could to make it through the test. So I nodded in approval.

“Come to my place”, he said with determination, “We’ll go through it step by step!”

About twenty minutes later we were in his room and he started an attempt to explain the nebulous world of mathematics to me. I could have told him it would be a laborious process but I didn’t. The prospect of being in his room was too seducing for me. He had explained a formula but I only looked at it in despair and asked a question which must have been totally silly fore him:

“But….what do I have to do with this little digit 2 above the y?”

“That means you have to raise it to a square”, he answered cheerfully.

“But how can I raise a y to a square?” I almost yelled despondent.

“Let’s say, the y is a 4”, he made another attempt, “so you raise the 4 to a square which is 16. That is exactly the same”.

“But why don’t they just put a 4 there then?” I asked the most foolish question possible,

Now even Eric got discouraged. He took off his glasses, looked at me and said:

“It seems to me that you are totally incapable of abstract thinking”.

“Is that bad?” I asked softly, looking into his eyes. They were gorgeous, a grey-green shade of color that looked like the ocean under a clear blue sky. And they looked in a way I was unable to comprehend with my common sense but I felt very well what was meant with my heart.

“No, it isn’t. You just think in another way!” he whispered. His hand reached out and a finger softly stroke me in the neck. Next he bowed over, his mouth half open, and kissed me full on the lips. His tongue was pushed in my mouth, searching for my tongue. I didn’t resist, but just received the tongue with pounding heart.

After that kiss he kept staring at me with this strange but oh so beautiful look in his gleaming eyes. He took me by the hand and drew me towards the bed, where he lied down. For a moment I was in doubt but he just patted with his hand on the free space besides him. I accepted the invitation and lied down next to him.

He put his head on my shoulder and whispered in my ear:

“Did you really think I didn’t notice how you looked at me?”

I blushed and felt enormously ashamed and embarrassed. He just laughed a bit and continued in his low whisper:

“But sweetie….you clearly never noticed that I looked at you as well!”

“No!” I giggled nervous and uncertain.

“That’s what happens if you don’t look around you, sweet little dreamer!” he said.  No, it was certainly no nagging, it sounded incredibly sweet. And to emphasize his loving intentions Eric started to kiss me vigorously.   

I felt how his hand slid over my t-shirt from my breast to my belly. Ending at the hem it slid under the texture and moved up again over my skin, starting to stroke over my belly in slow circles.

Eric kept kissing, but apparently his hand was no longer satisfied with that. It went down, undid my trousers belt and closure and slid over my undies in it. I felt how his fingers softly clutched around my aroused dick and how they delicately kneaded my balls and I heard him softly moan with pleasure,

To be honest: I felt more or less overwhelmed and I was at a loss what to do. I finally got what I had dreamed of for so long but was in serious doubt what to do myself. Should I just enjoy his stroking hand or should I take a more active part in it and push my hand in his jeans? I’d loved to but didn’t have the courage to take that step.

Before I figured it out and had made up my mind Eric’s hand went in my undies and I experienced the tickling of his fingertips over my dickhead.

“Mmmmmmm….you’re all damp, sweetheart”, he groaned with delight, “I have to do something about that”.

He gave me another hot, fiery kiss and rose. Clearly not counting on any objections or struggling he simply pulled my jeans off my body, followed seconds later by my undies. He pushed my t-shirt up so that I was lying more or less naked on the bed before his wanting eyes.

“Oh man…that looks delicious!” he cooed with excitement, licking his lips.

I longed for his fingers, playing with it, sliding up and down the shaft or something else that would thrill me to the extreme. But green as I was, I had no idea at all what that something else should be.

Eric clearly had ideas. He jumped from the bed and undressed, until he stood completely naked beside it. I marveled at the breathtaking sight. I noticed how the skin around his lovely dick was completely smooth and blank whereas I had a considerable black hair brush around it. But I loved the lack of hair and decided to shave mine away.

He crawled back on the bed, sat astride of my shoulders, putting his young soft buttocks just inches from my face. His fully aroused and softly dripping dick didn’t even manage the distance of an inch towards my lips.

“You want it, sweetheart?” he asked with a sultry panting sound.

“Yeeahhhhhh”, I moaned in reply.

I wondered what I had to do but intuitively I felt it was the right thing to do to open my mouth. With some aiming Eric placed his dickhead right between my lips, bowed over and took my cock between his lips with his tongue immediately stroking my little pee hole. Then he started to suck it furiously.

“Oh, that way!” it went through my head. So I copied it and started to suck as well, cautiously at first but increasing it very fast to a level where it seemed as if my life depended on it. Never before I had tasted the pre cum of another boy but I immediately became addicted to the flavour. I felt how Eric pushed his finger slowly and carefully in my asshole. I never knew that this part was so sensitive to erotic stimuli but it sent shivers of desire along my spine right away. And then the real big bang still had to come!

And it came. A split second apart we both started squirting in each other´s mouths. I felt my lance exploding between his lips and how blot after blot left my body, to be rewarded almost directly when I tasted his warm white gold gulfing in my mouth. It tasted somewhat bitter-salt, but very soon I relished the warm, sticky fluids and I was unable to avoid smacking on it.

While catching my breath Eric’s face was already over mine and he tongued me with fervor, mixing both our cum in one mass inside our mouths.

“I wanted to do this with you for so long”, he sighed with a blissful smile, his grey-greens eyes almost burning feverishly when he said it.

“Oooohhhh”, I was just able to stammer, “This was so wonderful! We have to do it more often!”

“Mmmmmm, sounds good”, Eric giggled, “I’ll be happy to oblige, sweetie!”

And yes, it was repeated. That is: you know how things go. After graduation we both went our own ways and we lost sight of one another. During the first months I had fond and warm memories about the afternoons in his room but even these subsided with the passing of time into the large black area of almost forgotten memories.

Until this afternoon! When we were both over our astonishment he said:

“I thought so often about you. I knew damned well that chances were very slim but I really hoped that I would find you again”.

I just laughed shyly, not knowing what to answer.

“Did you think about me?” he asked softly.

In a split second I decided to give him an honest answer and said:

“In the beginning yes. But it just faded away over time and I forgot you. Until a few minutes ago, when it all came back like an avalanche”.

“You know: that first afternoon I was on the verge of laying you completely”, he said with a soft voice.

“You could have”, I replied with some belated disappointment, “I wouldn´t have objected. You could have done anything you wanted with me. Why didn’t you?”

A shy smile went over his face when he said:

“I didn’t have the courage. I guess I wasn’t ready for that yet at that time. It might have been one street too far”.

I looked into his still marvelous green-grey eyes and whispered:

“Then do it now. I assume you are ready for it now!”

He looked at me, embraced me and give me the first intense kiss in fifty years. Then we simply skipped the coffee and went straight up stairs.

It was an almost funny situation upstairs. No, don’t get me wrong: it was great, as great as it was the very first time. But we lied on the bed as two elderly guys, way over sixty, making love as two youngsters, as frisky as two young fowls and with the searing vehemence like two young boys during their first time together.

At long last the apotheosis came: with a delay of half a century Eric entered me carefully, slowly and patiently, as if I was still the same virgin I had been during our first time together. I freely admit: it really wasn’t the first who entered me, but this had a touching tension that forced tears of emotion into my eyes.

After he had cum in me he looked me in the eyes and said:

“I’m not going to let you go another time, my dear. Even fools don’t make the same mistake twice!”

He kissed me again with the vigor of an overaged adolescent, a kiss that I answered as fervently as his was.