It was Saturday afternoon at the end of a long week of retail. I manage an upscale wine shop in an urban residential neighborhood.
Many of the customers with whom I deal are gay and, to tell the truth, you couldn’t ask for a nicer group of people to sell wine to. The kind of “eat, drink, and be merry” feeling in the gay community is certainly not a bad philosophy. Anyway, like I said, it was Saturday afternoon and quitting time. My wife was invited out to the Hamptons with a bunch of girlfriends for a summer camp reunion so I was a bachelor for the weekend. Normally, I would just drive home and, without even taking my jacket off, prepare myself a big shot of an excellent single malt scotch with an ice water chaser. In seconds, that drink would be on its way to my stomach to perform its magic. That elixir would take the edge off the day and the week, creating a pleasant state of relaxation. However, as I walked out into the spring air, I decided to take a different tact.
I walked down the street, people-watching as I went. Saturday afternoon in the city brings out some of the hottest looking women you can imagine. I was getting horny. Anyway, that single malt was very heavy on my mind and the street had any number of watering holes on it. Which would be my choice, I thought.
Across the street, I spotted The Crow’s Nest, also known as the “Dirty Bird”. The Crow’s Nest is a gay bar and I’ve never been in a gay bar before. I knew that they had a great selection of single malts and I was probably on speaking terms with many of its customers. What could be bad about that? I walked into the bar from a sunlit spring afternoon. My eyes adjusted to an atmosphere that was dark and cozy, with wood and leather and a long bar. The bar had a mirror behind it so you could see all the people sitting at the bar in the reflection. As amatter of fact, you could see everyone in the place. I immediately saw a few guys I recognized as customers. As my eyes met theirs, I nodded a “hello”, as did they. The one thing that was a surprise-to them-was that I was in that bar.
As far as I’m concerned, I’m straight. As far as they were concerned, I’m straight. I have, however, always been fascinated with the pleasures that sex with another man offers. I’ve had an awesome sex life with my wife for almost 40 years. There is nothing we haven’t done together, to ourselves, and to each other during our marriage. Oral, vaginal, anal…been there, done that. And I’m not sheepish about being on the receiving end of anything I would do to my wife.
She and I have been watching porn for years. Good porn is both titillating and educational. Porn is a business and the men and women in the movies are actors doing their job, but there can be no doubt about the fact that many of these actors are enjoying what they are doing. We have not been exclusive to just hetero porn. My wife and I have no problem watching two guys getting it on or two woman doing each other. After all, their equipment is the same as mine. Pleasure is pleasure no matter how you achieve it and, as they say, no one knows a man like a man, and I suppose the same could be said for women. I think my wife has learned to give a better blowjob by watching one guy doing another. I would be lying if I said that I haven’t fantasized about getting blown by another guy. My impression is that gay guys really get into it, especially since they really know about the pleasure they can give. And I can’t deny having thoughts about giving head to another guy, or for that matter, fucking some guy’s ass or letting some guy fuck mine. I have often used these thoughts and images as a source of excitement, for the porn movie that is going on in my head when I’m having sex with my wife, or every morning when I jerk off in the shower.
I found three stools at the bar that were empty so I sat down on the middle one. My most courageous move so far was just going into The Crow’s Nest. Sitting right down next to someone was to overt for me. I was going to have to take this adventure one step at a time. The bartender came over and gave me a big smile. His face was very familiar as mine was to him.
“What’s your pleasure on this fine afternoon?”
“I’ll start with a Balvenie 12, neat, and an ice water chaser, please.”
“Coming right up, my friend.”
Seconds later, in front of me sat an old-fashioned glass with about an inch and a half of rich amber liquid in it, accompanied by a glass of iced spring water.
“Thank you, sir.”
It takes a long time to cultivate a taste for scotch whisky. Truth be told, some scotch tastes like licking a telephone pole. I’m not a sipper and I’m not interested in swirling the liquid around in my mouth, defining its complexities. I’m really in it for the buzz. There was a time when I would drink the whisky slowly, taking a sip of water after every swallow to mitigate the fire that the whisky created in my stomach. In a social setting, like a party, carrying the glass of scotch and the glass of water became rather awkward so I got into the practice of just shooting the scotch, and taking bahis firmaları a swallow of water. It was almost like an old western movie, where the cowboy walks up to the bar and boldly announces “Whiskey!!” From 10 feet away, a whiskey bottle and a shot glass come sliding down the bar. The cowboy pours himself a shot, throws it down, slams the shot glass on the bar, and ends the process by flipping a large coin on the bar top, with the words “Thanks, Barkeep”, trailing from him as he walks out of the saloon.
Today was a little different. I was in a hurry to get that buzz going but if I gulped my drink, I would have nothing else to do at the bar. I sipped for a few minutes but became impatient. I threw the nectar down my throat, took a sip of water, and waited for the effect. That wasn’t the only thing I was waiting for. I was in the “Nest” because I was looking for more than just a drink. As the euphoric feeling crept over me, the bartender looked my way with a facial expression that asked me if I wanted another. I gave him a nod for a second dose of Dutch courage. As he turned away to pour my second drink, one of the men who had been sitting at a table against the wall was standing next to me.
“Mind if I sit here?”
His hand was on the barstool on my left. A quick look at the hand revealed a person with an impeccable manicure. I looked up at his face and saw a well-groomed man dressed in a Polo shirt, khakis, and Bass Weejuns. He was about 50 years old, eight years younger than I was. His hair was slightly gray and he had a neatly trimmed but full moustache. His face was nicely tanned and had a friendly cast to it. He weighed about 180 and was just about as tall as I was, at 5 foot 10. At first glance, I knew we could be friends. What was good was he didn’t look familiar. That is, I don’t think that I’ve ever seen him before.
“Please, have a seat.”
The bartender put my second scotch in front of me, giving me a knowing smile.
Hey, Rick, what can I get for you?”
I’ll do another Margarita, Bill.”
A minute or two later, my second scotch had a very frosty looking Margarita next to it, complete with a ring of salt around the edge and a lime wedge.
“Cheers”, Rick said as he raised his glass towards me.
I picked up my scotch and clicked it against his glass. There we were, looking eye-to-eye, and almost nose-to-nose. Rick gave me a wink and a little bit of a smile. We began talking about what a beautiful day it was. His comment about being in good company when there are good times was very complimentary and disarming. My second scotch was taking its effect and my inhibitions were quickly going out the door. The conversation continued. I told him that my wife was away for the weekend and I was a bachelor. I once heard that some gay men find it a conquest if they can seduce a straight married man. I don’t know whether this was a philosophy that Rick adhered to but there was no question that I was ripe for the pickings.
My glass was empty and so was his. I was about to call over the bartender for a refill when Rick told me that his condo was right down the block. Why don’t we go back to his place for the next round of drinks? He told me that he had a rooftop deck with great views of the city and it was just the right place to enjoy a nice sunny spring afternoon. It all sounded very good to me.
We stepped out into the warmth of a beautiful fresh spring day. We walked to the corner and took a left down one of the neighborhood’s side streets. There were brownstones on both sides. The dogwood trees that lined the street were just starting to bloom their bouquets of white flowers. At
2, we climbed the ten or so front steps to the double etched glass doors. Once inside, we climbed the circular staircase to the top floor apartment. What a nice place Rick had. The walls were covered with some excellent photographs Rick had taken. It appeared that one of the things we had in common was a love for the camera.
Rick went into his small galley kitchen which was appointed like a very expensive yacht. The stainless steel appliances with black granite countertops and teak cabinets were very impressive. He poured me a generous shot of Macallan 18yr along with an ice water chaser. For himself, he poured a shot of Patron Anejo. He grabbed some salt and a slice of lime and told me to bring my drink and follow him.
Although this was a one-level apartment there was a stairway off the living room that ended at the ceiling. Rick started up the stairway and opened a door in the ceiling that took us out on his roof deck. The deck was about 10 feet by 12 feet. It was surrounded by a fence that gave the deck complete privacy. On the deck were a couple of padded mahogany chaises, a table, and in one corner, a built-in barbeque. It was just fantastic. Panels in the fence on all four sides could be opened to allow a 360 degree view of the city. When the fence was closed, it captured the warmth of the sun so even though it was spring, the sun felt like it was summer.
We each sat down on the very comfortable kaçak iddaa chaises. The Macallan 18yr went down so smoothly with almost no need for the ice water. Rick tossed down his Patron and sucked on the lime. He gave me a big smile and said that he felt great. I certainly couldn’t complain. The temperature on the deck was close to 80 degrees according to the big round thermometer hanging on the fence. In fact, I was beginning to sweat a little. Rick unbuttoned his shirt to reveal a trim upper body with little extra weight on it. What really turned me on was the gold ring that he had through his pierced right nipple. Looking at that little gold ring running through his right brown button went right to my crotch. I was becoming aroused.
“You must be really hot in that long sleeve shirt. Come on, take it off. It’s like summer up here.”
As he said that, he kicked off his shoes and unbuttoned his pants. Within seconds, his pants were off, revealing his muscular legs. He was wearing a pair of very scanty, almost see-thru, bikini briefs, that emphasized his manhood. There was no question that his size was directly related to his degree of stimulation. It looked like it was half-hard pushing against the thin fabric, creating a swelling bulge. I knew the feeling well. I was pretty much in the same state. I took my shirt off and then, because it would look rather dumb with one of us half-dressed and the other undressed, I took off my shoes and slipped off my pants. For a man my age, I’m pretty trim. Ithing I look about 40 and I feel like I’m 30.
I was in the same state of arousal that Rick was. My cock was half-hard on its way to complete fullness. I was wearing my usual string bikini. If I were wearing jeans, I wouldn’t have had any underwear on at all. I really enjoy going “commando”. There we were, lying in the sun like two guys at the beach. I was very relaxed and at ease. Rick noticed that I didn’t have any hair on my chest and commented. I told him that for the most part I found body hair unnecessary so I shaved my chest. This bit of knowledge about me brought a big smile to his face. He was curious. What about……..?
I’ve never discussed this with anybody face to face before although I’ve told this story on chat boards on the net. It was back in 1973 when my wife and I went to California. One night in San Francisco, we went out to see one of the best double bills in porno history: Deep Throat and The Devil In Miss Jones. Linda Lovelace was completely shaved in Deep Throat. In The Devil, Georgina Spelvin was well-trimmed and several of her co-stars were completely shaved. By the time we got back to the hotel we were ready to fuck in the elevator. We made it back to our room, where we sucked and fucked and sucked. Some time in the middle of the night, my wife commented how hot the bald look was and if I wanted to shave her, now was the right time. I didn’t need to be asked twice.
We hopped into the shower and I soaped her up. As she leaned back against the shower wall with her legs spread, I shaved her cunt until there wasn’t a hair on it. She was completely hot. She has one of those vaginas that’s an “outy” like a belly button. Her outer labia are always hanging out and her clit hood is always visible. She was so wet from the excitement she was dripping. We were about to rinse off when she said that what’s good for the goose was good for the gander, too. Whatever she wanted was my reply. She lathered me up, pushed me back, and shaved all my pubes off. She worked on my scrotum like a surgeon. In a matter of minutes, something I had for 25 years was gone, and little did I know then, never to return.
The answer to Rick’s unspoken question was only inches and seconds way. I suggested another single malt and I would “reveal” the answer. It didn’t take him more that two minutes to bring me another Macallan 18yr, which I virtually guzzled, spilling a few drops on my chest. Rick’s eyes were begging for the answer. My cock was beginning to gorge with blood, getting harder with every millisecond. The moment of truth had finally arrived. When I walked into the “Nest”, I knew this was the goal. Rick could wait no longer and neither could I. I pulled down my string bikini and out popped my rock-hard cock, standing straight up with not a hair in sight, throbbing from the excitement.
“Wow, that’s awesome.”
I thought so. Rick got up from his chaise and sat on mine. He was still wearing his see-thru underwear and his dick was pushing at the material hard enough to pull them away from his legs. I could see his balls and, much to my surprise, and pleasure, they were shaved.
“Can I touch you?”
“Isn’t that why we’re here?”
His soft hands first rested on my calves and slowly moved up my inner thighs. He kneaded my legs as he moved up toward my bobbing cock. One hand gently wrapped around my cock while the other grabbed my balls. I had never felt anything like it before.My heart started to pound and I thought I was going to explode. My entire sex life was with my wife. Well, except for the time I got blown by a whore as a gift kaçak bahis from a customer when I was about 20. That was an experience! I came in about two seconds and it was over. Of course, my other sexual experience was actually a precursor to what was happening to me right now. When I was about 15, I used to jerk off with a friend of mine. It happened maybe a half dozen times. I think that we probably would have ended up jerking each other off if we had continued. I can’t remember why it stopped but it was fun at the time. I guess it doesn’t matter. What really matters is the fact that a man had one hand wrapped around my dick and the other holding my balls.
I felt the need to reciprocate. There was no question that Rick had done this before. For me, however, it was all new and, I must admit, thrilling. I slipped my left hand into his sheer underwear and pulled at his cock. I had never touched another man’s cock before but I knew exactly how it was going to feel. I was breathless! My nipples are very sensitive and are always part of sex, even if I’m jerking off. I’ll play with my nipples in the shower as kind of my own foreplay. My wife will pull and pinch them and suck on them when we’re making love. Rick’s pierced right nipple was evidence of a nipple fascination on his part. My right hand went to Rick’s chest. He had just a little fuzz on his chest. I think he might have thinned out his chest hair. Anyway, I pinched his left nipple and started to twirl it with my thumb and forefinger. His chest filled with air as he took a deep breath. I was hitting the right spot.
Can I suck your cock?”
Oh My God!!! Of course he could. I nodded my head and gave him a smile. Rick put both hands down on the chaise, one on each side of me, supporting his weight. His lips formed a small circle and he lowered his head onto my cock. I could feel his tongue licking the head of my cock inside his mouth. I’m not huge in the tool department but I can certainly hold my own. I’m about 6 inches long and a good inch and a half thick and nicely cut. As I played with his nipple, Rick, with one smooth motion, went down on my cock until his nose was pressed up against my shaved pubis. He raised his head until only the tip of my cock was between his lips and then went down on me again. I could feel the tip of my cock banging against the back of his throat. My wife gave me great head but this was a blowjob extraordinaire.
I could feel the pressure starting to build. I knew that I was going to cum sooner or later. At the rate Rick was going it was going to be sooner. I didn’t want him to stop but I wanted this to last. It was my turn to reciprocate. I told him to stand up and bring his crotch to my face. I pulled down his underwear and a rigid phallus about 7 inches long was sticking out in front of my face. His balls were shaved and the short hair on his chest went all the way down to his pubic hair ending in a thin landing strip. It was shaved smooth on each side. I said he was well-groomed but this was really unique and hot!! I could see that he was uncircumcised, something that I didn’t expect, although at this point, it didn’t matter.
I’ve never had a cock in my mouth before but it came to me like a duck takes to water. I grabbed his ass with both hands and pulled him forward. His cock went into my mouth slowly but surely. I wanted to give him what he gave me. His foreskin still slightly shrouded his cock. With my lips pressed against his foreskin, I pushed it back, completely exposing the shiny head of his rigid cock. A drop of precum appeared which I flicked with my tongue. How sweet it was!! I think I was only able to get about four inches into my mouth when I felt a gag reflex starting. I controlled his motion in and out of my mouth. I used my tongue all around the head of his dick. I let my teeth gently scrape against his foreskin. I knew that if I continued he would cum. I have a little bit of a problem about who cums when.
When I cum, it’s over. My libido kind of shuts down and, as much as I have fantasized about it, I really can’t continue in a sexual mode. No, I don’t roll over and go to sleep but when it’s over, it’s over. I would love to have my wife turn around and sit on my face after I’ve fucked her, letting my cum drip into my mouth. I’ve tasted my own cum in many a snowball and I’m all right with it. I’d love to eat her out and bring her to another orgasm but it just doesn’t happen that way. I’ve read a lot of erotica and the emphasis is always on guys who reload instantly. I ain’t one of them. I told Rick that I know I’m good to go once guaranteed, but anything right after that is almost a miracle. I need at least an hour or two. I didn’t want to ruin this experience for either one of us.
Rick’s response was the obvious one. He suggested we go down stairs to the bedroom and we’d do some “soixante-neuf” so we can both get off at the same time. That was definitely a win-win situation. We went downstairs to his bedroom where he lit some candles. There were white curtains on the windows that let the sun in with a soft filtered light. The aroma of the scented candles filled the room. His bed was queen-sized (no pun intended) and had the most exquisite sheets on it with a big fluffy down comforter. Rick lay down on the bed and beckoned me with a wave of his hand.