Saving It For A Dream

Sometimes I felt as if I'd grown up staring at him. He had the neatest yard on the block. Precise flowerbeds, everything freshly painted. His garbage cans always had their lids. His car was always washed and waxed. Every once in a while he'd have a party, with great music and lots of laughing people. At first, I didn't know what I felt when I stared at him. Later, when I did know, nothing changed because I knew I'd sprout wings and fly before I'd get up the nerve to go speak to him. A lot happened my freshman year in college that changed my outlook on things. When I came home for that summer break, I swore to myself if nothing else, I'd take a shot at him. And thus began my career as a sexual predator.

OK, in the four weeks that passed between my start as a sexual predator, and my actually doing something about it, I watched him through my bedroom window, just as I had so long ago. He didn't look any older. I wasn't sure how old he was, but his hair had that silver thing at the temples now. It was a thick chocolate brown all over his head, except for at the temples, where it was thick silver. His body was great, tan, slim and muscular. He probably worked out. I knelt next to the window and watched him work in the front flowerbed. He was on his hands and knees, his shorts pulled tight over his ass, his muscles rippling. I pulled my cock out and stroked it as I watched him, trying to remember how many times I'd jerked off staring at him, or his house, or a few times just at his car. I stroked harder and faster, and imagined his cock in my mouth, or my cock in his, or bending over and taking his cock up my ass...with him pounding it in hard, holding my hips, faster and faster, grunting and sweating and cumming all over the wall again. I looked down. I'd shot my wad all over the wall. Again. I laughed at myself. That was it. Tomorrow would be the day.

I walked across the street at 10:00 AM the next morning carrying a pink bakery box of doughnuts. I needed something to bring. Upon reflection, a bright, pink box may not have been the best choice, but it was too late now. I was just a neighbor coming over for a visit, not a hot and nasty sexual predator on the prowl. The hand I raised to knock on the door was trembling. It seemed like hours before the door swung open, and he was there. The blue eyes still piercing. Cheekbones high. Lips full. Chin and jaw strong. My cock went rigid and my knees went weak. 'Hello, Jeremy,' he said comfortably. 'Your timing is great. I just made a pot of coffee. Come on in.' If I had hit the floor dead at that moment, I would have done so as one happy homosexual. I made suitable neighbor noises and followed him into his house. It was as beautiful and neat as I had expected. He had wonderful taste. Jazz played softly in the background. He had framed prints from art exhibits, most autographed by the artists, on the walls. His kitchen looked like it was set up by someone who cooked. He ground his own coffee beans, and the aroma was incredible. I slid into a chair to hide my hard cock under the table and just stared at him.

He was a great host. Warm and gracious, and gradually it dawned on me he knew a lot about me. My college, my major, the Dean's list, the track team. I just answered his questions and stared at him, sort of eating him up with my eyes. Seven years ago, when my cock was just discovering what it wanted to do he was perfect. Now...he was even more perfect. Seven years of helpless lust was throbbing between my legs. He smiled at me with perfect teeth. 'Turn around,' he said softly. I blinked, then slowly turned my head. Behind me on the wall was a framed photograph. Me, with my chest snapping the tape as I set a new record for the 100-meter hurdles for the school. It was from the school newspaper. I looked back at him slowly. I couldn't speak. He got up, moved to me, lifted my chin with a finger and kissed me, softly at first, then with more and more passion. I reached out and stroked my fingertips up and down his hard cock.

He had tears in his eyes as he knelt before me and worked my jeans open. 'Jeremy,' he whispered as he took me in his mouth. I gasped at the sensation, then put my hands on his head, running my fingers through his thick hair. He sucked my cock gently, lovingly, running his tongue all over the head, then snaking it around the sides. His lips were tight and moved up and down me so easily. He let me feel his teeth just enough to excite the hell out of me. I wanted it gentle and loving, and I also wanted it fast and hot, and the confusion was making my vision blur. Barry decided it for me. His rhythm changed, and he sucked me until my balls wanted to explode. Fast and hungry. Greedy. I grunted to let him know it was happening, then exploded cum in his mouth. He made a satisfied sound and swallowed me, licking me clean, licking me until my body twitched from the sensations.

I held on to my pants with one hand and him with the other as he led me to the bedroom. He was murmuring reassuring sounds at me and stroking my back. He took off all my clothes and helped me lay back on the bed. I watched him as he slowly stripped, admiring his body, hypnotized by the hungry look in his eyes. The sexual predator had become docile and helpless realizing his prey returned his desire. He slid onto the bed next to me, moaning softly. He was gentle and thorough, examining my mouth with his tongue and my body with his hands. 'Barry, ' I whispered once, as if to reassure myself I wasn't back in my room kneeling by the window. 'Jeremy,' he said, his voice thick with want.

He used his mouth on me again, sucking me until I was again hard and gasping. He licked precum off my cockhead and stared at me, his eyes glittering. 'Fuck my mouth,' he said softly. I nodded at him dumbly, not sure what he wanted me to do, but willing to do anything, anything at all he asked. He lay on his back and had me mount his face, feeding my cock into his mouth. I held onto the headboard for balance and slowly moved my hips. I watched my cock slide in and out of his tightly clamped lips. The sight was incredible. He kept his eyes wide open, staring at me, watching my face change as his mouth drove me closer and closer to cumming. His palms worked up my thighs, massaging the muscles, rubbing my hips, then sliding around to my ass. His fingers slid into the crack and he gripped my cheeks hard, and pulled them apart. I felt air hit my hole, and the sensation made me tremble. I fucked his mouth as hard as I dared, flushed with a feeling of power. For so long this man had owned my sex, owned my dreams, was so much a part of what I had become. Now he was beneath me, his beautiful mouth a home for my swollen throbbing cock. I stroked him deeply, then gripped my cock, slid it out of his mouth and pumped my cum all over his face. He closed his eyes and grinned as white ribbons pulsed all over him. I slid down his body and rubbed my face against his, feeling my cum, tasting my cum, the hot cream making our skin slide together.

We showered together, scrubbing each other, enjoying the feel of each other's bodies in an extended, sensuous soapy steamy erotic movement. We dried each other thoroughly with towels, then I knelt before him. I wanted him so much, to taste his cock, to swallow his cum. Barry gasped as I took him in my mouth, rising up on his toes, his back arching. His entire body trembled as I sucked his cock. I moved my eyes up and looked at him and was stunned. He was fighting back the orgasm with everything he had, overwhelmed by need. I made a soft sound that vibrated from my throat into his cock. He looked down...and shot his wad hard. Very hard. There was no way I could swallow it all, so I drank what I could and let the rest pour over my lips.

I managed to pour him into a chair in the kitchen as I bopped around singing to myself and fixing us something to eat. I tried not to trash the place, but he was in no condition to care. His eyes were bright and followed me around, but his smile was fixed and his body seemed numb. Some food helped revive him, as did the wine, but what really brought him back was my telling him how long and how badly I'd wanted him while growing up. I told him of the countless times I'd knelt at my window jacking off looking at him. The photos I'd taken of him out that same window, several of which were up in my dorm room. I told him all the things I'd done with other men, and most importantly, the thing I hadn't done. The thing I'd saved for a dream.

One of the things I love best about older men is that you don't have to smack 'em in the head to get their attention to tell them something's important. Barry cried for a time, holding my hand to his face, then slowly, almost reverently led me back down the hall to the bedroom. 'Don't be afraid,' he said in a hushed voice. I grinned at him. I wasn't afraid. I was so fucking horny I thought I'd keel over dead. I'd questioned my bright idea of saving my cherry ass for a man I really thought I'd never be with, but...damn. I mean...damn. I was here, with him, and the man who'd filled every hot, sweaty wet dream I'd ever had was hard as a rock and going to go where no man had gone before.

He laid me on my back, and kissed me tenderly, moving his hands over me, exploring, endlessly exploring. He helped me hold my legs up, and used his mouth on my ass, nibbling me, biting me, licking me, finally driving his hot, wet tongue deep in my crack, flicking across my hole then plunging in. I let out a loud string of stunned obscenities, then clapped a hand over my mouth. Barry laughed helplessly. I felt my face grow hot, then laughed, too. At least I hadn't killed the romance of the moment, I thought. Barry knelt between my legs and started doing things to my hole with a lubricated finger. I sucked in my breath and felt my muscles tighten. He murmured appreciatively, then fingerfucked me slowly and deeply. I'd never felt anything so incredible. It had been worth waiting for. Barry looked so intense, staring down at his hand as he worked me open. He went from one finger to two, fucking me slowly, relaxing me. He told me a lot of things about himself I didn't know. When I was ready, he lubricated his cock well, and rubbed it against my hole. He entered me carefully, a stunned look on his face. 'Damn,' he muttered. 'Damn, Jeremy.'

It was about in there that romance, tenderness and my life as a virgin came to an abrupt halt. We humped the hell out of each other. Each time he slammed his cock down, my ass was slamming up to meet him. The bed shook and banged against the wall, tilting some of the pictures and dangerously rattling a few vases. We howled like animals, screaming 'fuck me!' in demented stereo at each other. We were soaked in sweat, sliding over each other, sucking each other's tongues, hands clawing and gripping, and endlessly, endlessly screwing. Hot, nasty screwing, thank you very much. We came at the same time, two wide-eyed silent faces pushed together, not fully believing what was happening to our bodies. I think the bed continued to bang against the wall for about five minutes after we stopped moving. The sun was coming up the next morning before we managed to crawl to the shower.

Barry comes up to the college every weekend. He never misses a track meet. I'm still on the Dean's list. We fuck our brains out at every possible opportunity. Life is good.