Your erotic stories

Last fall, when I was starting my graduate studies at NYU film school, I found myself sexually frustrated and unhappy with the guys I was meeting. The sex was OK, but nothing really special. I think that’s kind of understandable because, after all, we were mostly all in our early 20s and not very experienced. Plus, if I was to be really honest, the guys I met (and I include myself here) were kind of immature and unworldly. We barely knew who we were, let alone capable of thoughtful, meaningful and satisfying sexual relationships.

I guess that’s why I have always found myself sexually drawn to older men. I had never been with someone more than a few years older than me. But older guys seemed attractive to me. I’m not sure why, but I was really curious about what it would be like to be with an older man. I don’t mean ancient, of course, but I think there is something incredibly magnetic about a mature handsome man who is in his 50s. A guy of that age would be down to earth, mature and sexually knowledgeable, right? They would have so much experience, would know who they are, and would be beyond the petty insecurities that young guys like me are all so much about. I mean, really, so many of guys my age don’t seem to know who they are. They don’t know what real intimacy is all about and, fuck, they can’t even have a conversation. And really, let’s admit it, sex lasts about 10 minutes. There must be something better out there.

I was about to leave New York for a semester abroad at a London film school, but wanted to work through this confusion. I knew I was curious about older men, so I decided to explore maybe finding someone like that I could talk to and maybe go from there. And I wanted to do this before I went to London because, maybe, I would have the confidence to explore older guys there, too.

From the safety of my phone, I changed the age setting in my Manhunt membership so that I would only see profiles of guys over 50. Usually, I had excluded guys that old, thinking they were trolls. Previously, older guys on Manhunt would chat me up which would kinda freak me out. I would block them and be rid of them. But now, I purposely restricted my search so that I would only see older men. Maybe there was someone cool and mature worth talking to. I had nothing to lose. Besides, if it got strange I could block them and close the app. And if nothing happened or even if something disastrous occurred, I would scurry off to London and get away.

Manhunt works pretty well for searching–well, hunting!–because it lets you set a lot of search preferences to zero in on exactly what you’re looking for. I set the target age between 50 and 60. Now don’t get me wrong—I don’t necessarily think that anyone over 60 is too old, but I kind of had in mind someone a tad younger than that. I set body preference to be average or better. I didn’t set any specific ethnicity–hey, I’m open to all types. As for sexual preference, I chose top. I wanted to find a true and total top who knew what he was doing in bed, who was confident in who he was, and who was searching for me: a solid handsome young bottom.

Here’s how I updated my profile:

Profile Headline: JonJ Profile Text: I am a 22 year-old film student looking to meet a mature top man over 50 who knows what he’s doing. Is that you? I am a bottom and I’m open to new experiences, fun and safe hotness. Please be DDF and cool. Don’t be lame. Position: Bottom Build: Slim Ethnicity: White Hair: Brown Eyes: Brown Height: 5′ 8″ Cock: 6 (cut) HIV Status: Negative Place: Host or Travel Availability: Ask Me Intos: 1 on 1, Dad/Son, Friends, Fuck Buddy, Kissing, No PNP, No strings, Role playing, Safer only, Straight/bi, Sucking

I tried to make myself sound confident and not juvenile. I didn’t want guys thinking I was stupid. I posted a picture of myself that was purposefully a bit blurry and vague. I wanted to discourage guys who steal pics. I’m not sure what I expected. Mostly, it was kind of like play acting. I mean I was sitting on my couch from the safety of my apartment. I had no worries. I could chat all I wanted with guys, and at any time I could simply turn it off and disappear from cyberspace. I was safe, protected from predators and liars and strange guys with diseases. But what the hell . . . I was horny and curious and thinking more and more about it.

As soon as I updated my profile and narrowed my search for the age and kind of guy I was looking for, my screen refreshed and I was greeted by a dozen thumbnail pictures of older men. This was a turn off. They looked old! I mean really old. They all had to be lying about their ages. They looked out of shape and appeared to be meth addicts. Some we’re showing of their cocks and armpits. A real turnoff. This was a mistake. I scrolled down the screen. There had to be someone who was halfway decent. But, no. I was glad I was cruising Manhunt anonymously. After a while I got discouraged and turned it off.

I made myself some dinner and started to feel sorry for myself. All I wanted was someone I could talk to, someone real and true that would listen to me and, hopefully, set me straight and make me satisfied by fucking my brains out in a way that showed they actually cared if I got off. I watched an old movie, which was a class assignment, and wrote a one-page summary on it. It was getting late. I smoked a small bowl got in bed, and was about to crash. But first, just for the hell of it, I checked Manhunt again and saw that I had a message!

It said: “Hi. You’re handsome. And nice profile. Check out mine and let me know if you’re interested. We should grab a drink sometime. If not, no worries.”

I clicked on the photo next to his message and it brought me to his full profile:

Profile Headline: BradDad Profile Text: I’m an experienced and aggressive bi top looking for a cool younger guy who likes men my age. You should be 21-28 years old, in shape, a bottom, know what you want, and not into games. Safe NSA play only. I visit NYC often so this could be a regular thing. Chat me up. Age: 55 Position: Top Build: Average Ethnicity: White Hair: Salt & Pepper Eyes: Brown Height: 5′ 9″ Cock: 7.5 (cut) HIV Status: Negative Place: Host Availability: Ask Me Intos: 1 on 1, Dad/Son, Friends, Fuck Buddy, Kissing, No PNP, No strings, Role playing, Safer only, Straight/bi, Sucking

He was pretty decent and good looking. Not an Adonis or anything like that. Mostly, he just looked like a normal man. His profile was solid, informative, and normal. He sounded comfortable in preferring younger guys. There was nothing flashy about him, and his profile didn’t have the usual smell of lying about it. He had two other public photos of himself in his profile, and they were pretty cool and average, too. One was of him standing outside somewhere, I think a park. And the other one was him with his shirt off. He had a decent body, though it didn’t look gym built. He looked a little younger than 55. The most amazing thing that got my attention is that our “intos” were identical. Damn!

Mostly, his profile and message didn’t make me feel threatened. I didn’t have the usual alarms going off in my head that told me to keep away. He just seemed like a regular normal guy. Nothing particularly special. Nothing weird. He didn’t seem to be sugar coating who he was. A cool average guy. I liked that his message didn’t say “Let’s fuck” or something like that. His casual invitation (at least I read it that way) to “grab a drink” was non-threatening. He didn’t seem to be looking to just jump in the sack. That he wanted to have a drink with me said a lot. He wasn’t clearly wasn’t a let’s-fuck-and-never-see-each-other-again kind of guy. He had my attention.

What the hell. There was nothing to worry about. Just me and my phone. I could always ignore or block him at any time.

I clicked reply and wrote him back: “Hi. Thanks for writing. You sound pretty chill. What’s up?” I looked at his photos again and pictured what it would be like to be with someone who was pretty much as old as my dad. I stared at his eyes and tried to get a sense of him.

In like 10 seconds the app showed that I had another message. It was from him! I wrote him back and then he wrote me back and it went on for a while. Here’s the message exchange:

Him: Hey, thanks for writing back! Nice of you. Me: No prob. Doesn’t take energy to be polite, right? Him: That’s true, but not everyone on Manhunt is nice. Glad you are. Me: Thanks. What’s up? Him: Checking out the scene to see if there any cool guys worth meeting. Me: You mean other than me? LOL Him: You seem worth meeting. Me: I bet you say that to all the guys! Him: Actually, no. Manhunt kind of sucks. Just a bunch of liars on here. Me: That’s true. Him: Do you ever get lucky here? Me: Rarely. Him: I like your profile. I don’t see many young guys here that are open to meeting older guys. Me: I am open to it. Him: Is that what you prefer? Older guys, I mean? Me: I don’t know what I prefer, to be honest. I’ve just been thinking about it a lot lately. Him: Why? Me: I don’t know exactly. Him: That’s cool. I don’t mean to pry. Me: No worries. Him: I’m Brad. Me: Jon. Him: Nice to meet you, Jon. Real name? Me: Yeah. Convenient, huh? Him: Brad’s not my real name. Gotta be careful. Me: What is your real name? Him: I’ll tell you if we get to know each better. Is that OK? Me: I guess so. Him: Whew, OK. So I guess you are cool with my profile. About me liking younger guys. Me: Yeah. I’m curious about it too. Him: What are you curious about? Me: I don’t know. Maybe what it would be like. Him: Do you have a boyfriend? Me: No. Him: Surprising. You seem really nice and are incredibly handsome. Me: Thanks! Flattery will get you everywhere. LOL Him: Just saying. Me: What part of town do you live in? Him: You mean New York City? I don’t live there. Me: Where? Him: New Mexico Me: Are you here now? Him: No. But I will be in NYC next week. I am there about three or four days every month. Me: OK. That’s cool. Why are you here so often? Him: Business. And meet cool guys like you. 🙂 Me: Good answer. Ha! Him: Tell me more about yourself. Maybe I should go first. Me: OK. Why? Him: Get this out of the way–I’m married. Me: To a man or a woman? Him: To a woman. Me: Oh Him: We can stop sending messages now if you want. Me: No, that’s OK. Just hadn’t figured that. Does your wife know? Him: No. Go on–you can ask me anything you want. Me: Do you have kids? Him: Yes, four. Me: Wow! Him: I’m not a terrible person or a bad husband or a bad father. I just like being with guys now and then. I’m very careful. Very discreet. Me: OK. I can deal with that. Him: Really? Tell me now before we keep talking here. Me: We can keep talking. Him: Thanks. So that’s what I wanted to be up front about. Tell me about you. Me: What do you want to know? Him: Stuff that’s not in your profile. Can you unlock your private pictures, BTW? Me: I will, as long as you do the same. Him: Of course! Me: OK cool. So what else do you want to know? Him: Why are you interested in older guys? Ever been with one? Me: Not yet. But very curious about it for some reason. Him: What reason would that be? Me: I’m not sure, to be honest. Guys my age don’t seem very smart or sexually interesting. Him: You may be right. I’m very experienced, as you might imagine. Me: Yeah, that’s definitely a turn on. Him: Is your dick hard right now? Me: Yes. Him: That’s a good sign. I have to sign off. Are you interested in meeting me when I’m in NYC next week? Me: I think so. Him: I’ll take that as a yes, for now. We’ll chat more here but I have to go. I’ll unlock my photos. Me: Thanks, me too. Him: It’s been really nice talking with you. You seem like a really cool and normal guy. Me: You, too.

I signed off and immediately started jacking. I wasn’t quite sure why I was so turned on, but I was. I was hard as a rock and totally ready to blow. I pumped by bone furiously, thinking about Brad and what it would be like to be with him, which seemed somehow obtainable. Our conversation via message was nice, easy, not perverted or anything like that. We hadn’t even talked sex. Here was a normal secure guy who didn’t seem in any rush to convince me of anything. He seemed real, human and, I don’t know, just normal. That he was married and had kids really turned me on for some reason. It meant he was a true man who had obviously had a lot of sex and he liked to fuck. I bet he had a really awesome masculine technique, an average American masculine man. If I ever met him, I wondered how he would fuck me. I kept thinking of him as I pumped my cock and blew a huge load.

Exhausted and excited, I went to bed thinking of him.

Over the next several days I received more messages from Brad, or whatever his name would turn out to be. I never felt he was pushy. He was sexually curious, but nothing overtly creepy. Mostly, I felt he took an interest in me, that he was actually sort of listening. After quite a few exchanges he again asked if I was interested in meeting him when he came to town. He said he was busy during days, but that it would “cool to have a drink at a bar down the street” after a business dinner he had Thursday. He said, “Let’s check each other out in a safe public kind a way and we can go from there. Let’s keep it loose.” I could relate to that because that’s exactly what I wanted. I wanted safety and protection from something that could be potentially dangerous, let’s admit it. Meeting up with random guys in a hotel room or something like that was a set up for just about anything. NSAs like that could result in the guy having a gun or a large scary friend with him. Or he could turn out to be nothing like his profile and picture, like maybe a fat 85-year-old. Scary. But meeting him casually in a nonthreatening environment? I was game.

So, on Thursday, I met him at the Monkey Bar, a hopping bar on east 54th. I would be dishonest if I didn’t admit to being nervous. I mean really nervous, even though I was meeting him in a safe way.

I was a little late because I didn’t know what to expect but wanted to be ready for whatever happened. I didn’t get the impression he was a let’s-fuck-now kind of guy, but on the chance that it could go that way I wanted to be perfect for him. Better to be prepared, right? So I took a long shower and really scrubbed well. I shaved my cock and ass extra smooth, and I gave myself two lightly soapy enemas to make myself especially clean. I got dressed and undressed twice and still wasn’t sure I was dressed right. I wanted to be sharp but still casual.

All this made me a bit late. I got to the bar at 10:15. I saw him immediately when I walked in. He was in a booth toward the back. He waved and I made my way to him. As I walked toward him I saw right away that he was much better looking than his photos. It was gratifying that he hadn’t lied about himself in his profile. He was just as tall as he’d said he was, about 5′ 9″ I think. True, he wasn’t a giant, but he wasn’t a shrimp either. He looked pretty fit, although he did look a little soft in the belly. He wasn’t overweight; he was just a man. His hair was lightly greying. He was definitely a handsome man, with large eyes and vibrant sexy presence about him. I was immediately attracted to him.

He stood up as I approached the table and extended his hand. He said, “Jon, so great to meet you. I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

“Me, too,” I said and shook his hand.

His handshake was firm and sensual. He held on to me for a long moment and looked me straight in the eye as he said, “Damn you are a good looking man.” After what felt like an eternity I didn’t want to end, he said, “Sit, please. I hope you don’t mind I got started without you, but I ordered you a drink.”

I sat across from him and saw that, sure enough, a drink was ready for me.

“It’s a dry gin martini,” he said.

“That’s my drink,” I said, impressed. “How’d you know?”

“Just guessed, but in our chats I kinda figured you were a martini guy. I like figuring guys out. If I was wrong, I would have enjoyed turning you on to it. Either way, I couldn’t lose.”

He took a sip of his drink, which looked to be the same as mine. I did the same. “Thanks,” I said.

“You’re nervous, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Sorta,” I said.

“Yeah, me too,” he said, although he didn’t seem it. He had a very casual and comfortable way about him that didn’t seem the slightest bit nervous. “Any time I meet someone like you for the first time I get very anxious.”

“You do this a lot then, I guess?”

“Not at all,” he said. “I’m careful as hell. I have to be, if you know what I mean. I have to be very discreet.”

“‘Cause you’re married,” I said.

“Yes,” he said. “I’m open about it. I told you right away the first time we chatted, right? You think I’m a terrible person?”

“Not at all. I’m curious about it, is all. You don’t get enough sex at home?”

“Actually, my wife and I have a lot of sex,” he said. “Amazing, really. Even after all this time. But every now and then I like the excitement of a man. I can’t help it.”

“I get it,” I said, and took another drink. The martini tasted great.

“So do you think I’m too old for you?”

I didn’t hesitate. “No.”

“Does being here with me excite you?”

“Yes.”

“Why? Why are you interested in an old man like me? I’m old enough to easily be your father.”

“I don’t think 55 is old. It’s what I have wanted for a long time.”

“Why? Sexually, I mean, what turns you on about it?”

“Something about being with a very experienced guy. And that you’re married, and have kids like you say, you must be really good in bed.”

He smiled at me and took a drink. “More than good,” he said, the he asked, “Does that turn you on?”

I felt my cock growing in my pants. “Definitely.”

He leaned over closer to me and said, “I like being with younger guys like you. I’m not a pedophile or anything like that. When I do this, I only meet guys who are over 21. Young hot guys like you taste good. They taste good everywhere, their lips, their cock, their skin, their hole. If we see each other in private I will make you hornier than you’ve ever been before. But we both need to go into this with eyes open, if you know what I mean. Right?”

I felt warm all over. Maybe it was the martini. Or maybe it was his directness. “Right,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant.

He said, “I have a very hard time finding handsome young men like you who are open to older guys, and I’m very picky. Very choosy. You must have a lot of boyfriends.”

“I don’t,” I said.

“No way,” he said. “You are so good looking.”

“Thanks,” I said.

I felt his foot touch my leg. “Is this OK,” he asked. “Does this make you nervous?” His foot caressed my leg on the side of my calf, gently touching me, as if it was his hand.

I closed my eyes for a moment and said, “It feels good.”

“Listen,” he said, “if you’re up for it, we can go back to my hotel room right now. It’s just across the street. No pressure, Jon, really, but I would really like it.”

I heard myself say, “Me, too.”

He paid the bill and I followed him out of the bar and across the street, just as he said, to his very nice hotel. As we walked through the lobby I felt as if everyone was looking at us, as if they knew we were going to his room to have sex, that they judged us for our ages and thought very terrible things about us. I trailed behind him and started to feel really crummy.

He must have sensed my worry, because he stopped and put his arm over my shoulder. “Don’t worry,” he said. “They just think you’re my son.” He was right. No one was paying us any mind.

We walked down a quiet hallway to the bank of elevators. He pushed the up button. As we waited, he put his mouth to my ear and whispered, “Are you sure this is what you want? You can leave right now. I want you to stay, but it’s important that you want it, too. You need to want it more than I do, even. Because beyond this point you’ll be my boy and I’ll take you places you’ve never imagined. Tell me that’s what you want. Tell me you want this. I want to hear you say it out loud. Say it.”

His words were intoxicating. “Yes,” I said. “I want this. I fucking want it.”

As he said, “Me, too,” the elevator opened, we stepped inside, he pushed his floor’s button, and the door skid closed upon us, leaving us alone as the elevator started a slow crawl to heaven.

That’s when he pushed me gently against the elevator wall and leaned into me, pressing his body against mine and kissed me. He was aggressive, but not in a violent way. His opened his lips and kissed me softly, with passion and moistness. I was surprised by his directness and how quickly he was upon me. “Open your mouth more,” he said, and I did. Then I felt his tongue come into my mouth, a fine wet soft tongue that was so sexy, parting my lips as if he was showing me how he was going to explore my ass with his cock. Oh god. It was a long slow kiss, one that said so much, that he was loving me and taking me and possessing me. It was a kiss of angels, rocking my soul, and I returned his embrace, snaking our tongues together. I slid my tongue into his mouth, too, and he tasted fantastic. I needed to take a breath but he was not releasing me from this first important kiss. He sucked gently on my mouth and lapped at my life. The kiss was more than a kiss. It was a statement to tell me that I was his. I was immediately under his power. I wanted him so much. I didn’t care that he was smothering me. I felt his hardness push against me and it felt big. Finally, just as I thought he was taking all my life forces, the elevator opened and he released me. I felt my legs go soft.

Feeling light headed, I floated out of the elevator after him and to his room at the end of the hall. The door opened to a fabulous hotel suite that was definitely nicer than my apartment. A floor to ceiling window displayed a breathtaking panorama of the New York skyline. I was magnetically drawn to the window, walking over to it and placing my hand on the glass.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” I heard Brad say.

“It’s awesome,” I said. Then I felt him behind me, pressing his body against mine and wrapping his hands around me. I felt his face against my neck and he kissed me gently there. “You smell good,” he said.

His lips on my neck made me swoon. I closed my eyes and bent my head as he continued to kiss me. I felt his tongue lick my neck. He nibbled me gently. “You taste fantastic,” he said, then continued to lick and kiss my neck. His hands explored my chest, pulling my shirt up and running his hands lightly over my abdomen, touching me softly, flicking my nipples. He pulled me closer to him and even though we were still dressed I could feel his hard cock push against my ass. Even if I had pretended not to be turned on my cock betrayed me–it was rock hard and straining inside my jeans. His hand moved to my crotch and, as he continued to kiss and lick my neck, he ran his hands over my bulge. “That’s the way I like my men,” he said. “I like them always horny, always hard, always begging for my touch, always wanting to cum.” From behind, while still kissing my neck and gently licking in my ear, he unbuttoned my shirt and placed his soft warm hand on me. It felt amazing. He caressed my chest and played with my nipples. I felt myself floating away somewhere. “Does this feel good, Jon?” he asked.

I manage to say, “Yes,” and I turned around so we could kiss.

I could get drunk on his lips, that’s how good a kisser he was. In fact, it was more like making love to my mouth than kissing. He kissed in slow motion, as if he were molding me, loving, licking my tongue, exploring the inside of my mouth, sucking the life out of me and replacing it with his soul. I melted into him, wanted him to kiss me forever. I’d never been kissed this way, never knew that it could be so sensual, so erotic, could make me so drunk. I think I loved him already. I wanted this every day. I didn’t even care if we did anything else or if things would turn to sex, that’s how good it was to be kissed by him, to be possessed by his mouth. He tasted better than anything I’ve ever eaten.

My shirt dropped to the floor and, while he sucked on my tongue, he had my pants unbuckled, unzipped and dropped in one amazing smooth move. It was like his hand was a ninja, that he had performed magic with my pants, barely touching them before they slid down my legs. Then he slipped his hand in my boxers and cupped my cock, holding it, warming it, and lightly squeezing my balls. And all the while not missing a beat of his amazing kiss that only ended when he wanted it to.

He led me to the bed where, on my back, he removed the rest of my clothes, pushed my knees up, and rested on top of me though he was still clothed. He put his mouth to my ear and said, “You’re so beautiful, so good looking, so handsome. You want me. You want this. Tell me you want this.”

“I want it,” I said on command, because it was true. I already felt satisfied, but being with this fucking incredibly sexy man was a revelation. He was gentle, attentive, giving. He didn’t seem to care–well, at least so far–about his pleasure. It was all about giving me attention and love, and making me feel more erotic than I could ever remember. I wrapped my legs around him and felt my boner press against him. I wanted him badly. Truly, I wanted to dispense with other preliminaries and have him fuck the shit out of me right now. I was bursting with libido. “I really want it, Brad. Fuck me. Please.”

“I will,” he said, “soon.” Then he moved down and started to lick and suck on my nipples which I loved more than anything. He could tell, I’m sure. He sucked on my nipples and licked them, nibbled them, drew them into his mouth as if he was feeding. He played with my nipples, running his tongue in circles around them, flicking my nipples to make them wet and hard. I ground my cock against him and moaned. Then he pushed my arms over my head and began to lick my armpits as if they were sugar. He didn’t just lick them gently, he placed his fat we tongue fully into my armpits and licked them up and down, first my left pit, then my right, taking turns licking them and sucking my armpit hair into his mouth. He inhaled my scent and kept making love to my armpits with his tongue. I was mad with desire. Then, before I could protest, move quickly down and started licking the inside of my thighs, teasing the sensitive skin just around my balls, licking me and nibbling my thighs, working closer and closer to my nuts. He held my cock in his hand while he did, lightly jacking it a little, driving me crazy. I was squirming and out of control.

Brad started to lick and suck my cock and it was like nothing I’d ever experience. He seemed to know exactly what I wanted, taking my cock deep, licking it up and down, taking my balls into his mouth and tugging at them. I looked down at this handsome mature man as he bobbed up and down on my cock, jacking it while sucking it, slobbering over my cock, over and over, unending, driving me wild. He licked under my balls and rolled me up for access to my hole and he tongued me there. Then he slipped a finger inside me and started to go down on me again. Oh fuck! He took my cock deep and fingered my ass, slipping it up inside me where I could feel him pressing against my prostate.

“Oh my god,” I said. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.”

He went on like this forever, it seemed. He wasn’t in any rush, which was how he operated. He was making love to my cock, knowing just when to apply more pressure, to play with my mushroom, to tease my pee hole with his tongue. He took my balls into his mouth a lot, seemed to enjoy munching and pulling on them, all the while keeping pressure on my prostate with his finger.

Just when I felt myself starting to build up to an orgasm, he could tell. That’s when he flipped me over on my knees, positioned my ass in the air, and started to rim me like a god. And I could tell he liked to do it. His tongue was playing with my hole, licking it fast and then slow, hard and then soft, he licked my ass and rubbed his hands all over me as he tongued me, slipping his tongue deep into my hole and sending me to nirvana. He kept his tongue planted deep inside me and then started to jack my still fucking rock hard cock at the same time, up and down, masturbating me with his wet hand, then going down to suck on my balls, and then back up to tongue my hole.

“Fuck, Jon, you taste like candy,” he said, coming up for air, then he went back to work and kept rimming. On and on he went, licking and tasting me, digging deep into me with his tongue, lapping at me, eating my ass and making me float up to the ceiling.

“Don’t stop,” I said.

“I won’t,” he said, and he didn’t let up with her rimming energy, licking me all over, slapping my ass as he ate me, slobbering in my hole, and slipping a finger inside me occasionally. I kept moaning, my eyes closed as I went to a place in my head of total delight. He was relentless, rimming me without end. I don’t know how long this went on, but easily at least 30 minutes of me with his mouth on my ass, jacking my cock, sucking my balls, tonguing me and licking me and simply worshiping my hole.

After a long time I simply couldn’t take it anymore and said, “Please, Brad, fuck me. Fuck me now. I want it so bad.”

He simply said, “Not yet,” and then he came away from my ass and started to take his clothes off. As an older man, he wasn’t skinny and smooth like me. But he was in pretty good shape. He had a beautiful chest, moderately hairy and, when he removed his pants, displayed a gorgeous cock that sprang out of his underwear hard and thick and with an awesome head. He positioned himself in front of me and said, “Show me what you can do,” and he slid his cock into my mouth with his hands on the back of my head.

His cock was big, but not too big. Thick, but not too thick. His mushroom head was spongy, soft and amazing and it tasted so fucking good. I could see that he shaved the shaft of his cock and balls, and kept the rest of his public hair nicely trimmed, and it was evident that he practiced good hygiene because he didn’t have that musky gaggy cock smell that some guys have who don’t wash well. Really, his cock tasted fantastic and I did my best to suck him as well as he did me. But he was very particular about what he wanted, so he gave me direction about how he liked things. He told me slow down when I was going too fast, or to lick him in a particular place or in a special way. He taught me how he wanted his balls sucked, which is something he really liked. “Do it like I did to you,” he said, which meant he wanted me to take both his balls into my mouth at the same time and just let them stay there while I washed his marbles around inside my mouth. “Yeah, like that. Now do it here. Take it deep inside you and hold your breath while I touch your tonsils with my head. Yeah, good boy.”

He pulled his cock out of my mouth and squeezed out a big gob of pre-cum onto his finger. He spread it on his tongue then he leaned down to kiss me deep, sliding his tongue with the pre-cum into my mouth. Oh fuck, it was so horny. He knew exactly what to do to turn me on. After we kissed, he pushed my head back down on his cock again and he started to fuck my face again. He knew just how he wanted my head to be positioned, and he took control of that, turning my head exactly how he liked. He was firm with me, but not rough, and he didn’t slam his cock down my throat in a hurtful way–he was urgent but gentle. He had an amazing relentless rhythm that made me feel like such a bitch, such a whore to him. He held my head tight and used me. I relaxed my mouth as much as possible and relented to his desire.

After a long time he stopped pumping my throat but, instead, laid my head down on the bed and just left his cock deep inside my mouth. “Just keep it there,” he said. “Yeah, just like that, feel my man cock inside your mouth. It’s made for you. Taste it. Smell it. You’re meant for my cock. You love my cock.” He didn’t move. For what seemed forever, he just stood still, his cock planted inside my mouth, resting there. I breathed through my nose and grew comfortable with his cock resting inside my mouth like a pacifier. While he did this, he started to rub and jack my cock. This man was fucking incredible. I wanted it to last forever. I moaned, closed my eyes and I think I fell asleep for a while with his cock between my lips.

It became apparent that he was ready to fuck. He slid his cock out of my mouth and flipped me over so that, again, my ass was in the air. He wanted to take me like a dog. He licked my ass again, sliding his tongue in my ass, getting me ready. Then he retrieving some lube from the nightstand–he had prepared!–and lubed my ass good, taking time to get a lot of it inside my hole, pushing lube inside me, fingering me, clear that he wanted me to feel comfortable. He tore open a Magnum condom wrapper with his teeth and sheathed his dick in the clear cock wrapper.

“Ready for my cock?” he asked.

I said, “Please, fuck me,” but it wouldn’t have mattered what I said because he was already inserting his mushroom into my hole. Right away it felt amazing and big and huge and fantastic. He went in slow, holding my hips, guiding his brick-hard cock into me inch by inch, pushing it in like it was going to come out my mouth, until he was all the way in. He didn’t start pumping right away. Instead, he kind of wiggled it around to seat it all the way inside me.

“Do you feel that inside you? That’s the way I want you. Now you’re my bitch. My boy bitch. Ready for me to breed you?”

I couldn’t answer other than to moan. He felt so good. Then he started to slide out a little, then back in, slow at first, then with more speed until he was fucking me good, like a piston machine, in and out, fucking me hard, slapping his balls against me with each thrust. He reached under me and rubbed my chest. “Fuck you feel good,” he said. “Nice and tight.” He kept fucking me with even rhythm. Not too slow and not too fast, just a nice dance of his cock inside my ass. Like the rest of his technique that night, he wasn’t in a rush. Just kept fucking me in that position for a long time until I felt the world slipping away again and wondering how long this would go on. How long could he last, a man his age? The answer: as long as he wanted and certainly longer than anyone had ever fucked me before. His cock became one with my ass. They were meant for each other, fucking me on and on, building up speed, really taking me.

I think he fucked me in that position for about 20 minutes without stopping, then he pulled out and positioned me on my back with my ass hanging off the edge of the bed. He pushed my legs up and my knees to my shoulders, exposing my already worked ass. “Now I’m going to really fuck your hole,” he said, and that’s what he did. He pushed his cock into me without being gentle, slamming into me all the way, grinding his cock into me, fucking me hard. With each thrust I couldn’t help but grunt as he pushed the air out of my body. He leaned down and, without a change to his rhythm, he kissed me fully and long, our tongues touching and loving. He kept fucking me this way, kissing me deep, gliding the full length of his hard piston in and out of me.

I had never been possessed this way before. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” I said.

He stopped for a moment and, from somewhere, produced a length of thin soft rope. “I’m going to tie us together so that we’re one.” Without taking his cock out of me, he reached under and used the rope to tie our balls together. First he tied one end firmly around my balls, running the rope a few times around my scrotum and tugging on it to ensure I wouldn’t come off, then he wrapped it around his testicles, which pulled his balls right next to mine. Then he ran the last bit of rope around both our sacks and tied it off. Literally, our balls were tied together firmly. “Now let’s fuck,” he said, and he proceeded to fuck me again.

This was so fucking amazing, and I can barely describe it. Each time he pulled back my balls went with him, a slight but firm tug that sent a brief but agonizing jolt through my body. In and out, our balls stretching and pulling, and the brief twinges of ball-pulling pain showing on his face. I shouldn’t say “pain” because it felt so good, like we were in another zone together, with him fucking me and fucking me and fucking me, really crashing into me, pounding his flesh into me, extending our balls that were wrapped tightly together.

Eventually, after this went on for a long time I felt the pressure rising in me. He could sense it, too. So he reached down and started to jack my hard cock. I warned him, “Gonna come,” but that only made him fuck me harder and masturbate my cock until, like the sea opening, a came in a long torrent that squirted sky high and landed on my face. It was the most intense cum I’d ever experienced. I can’t believe how much cum came out of me, and my chest was covered in my seed.

He started to build, too. Then, in one swift move, he reach down and magically untied our balls, and then moved over me to start jacking his cock, finally spewing all over me, mixing his cum with me, with his first burst landing on my left ear. Kneeling over me, jacking his cock and cumming on me, the expression on his face was one of exquisite glory and pain. I knew right then that I wanted to be with him as much as possible, to have him kiss me and lick me and suck me and rim me and fuck me over and over. I wanted to be his fuck buddy every time he came to New York.

He rested next to me and we talked for a long time. He was a great cuddler. We talked about this and that, about how our age difference didn’t matter, about how great matched we were. But I told him I was leaving next week for a semester of film study in London. I promised to let him know when I was coming back. He asked if I knew of any friends who might “keep him company from time to time” when he was back in New York. I told him I didn’t know of anybody but I felt indebted to him and promised to try to find some other young guys for him. He said, “Not just any guys. You know I’m picky. If they’re like you, then cool. If not, I’ll wait until you get back.”

So that’s one of the reasons I’m writing this. I wanted to share this amazing experience. If there are any other NYC-based young guys like me who might be interested in meeting Brad, let me know and I’ll make the introduction. If you’re really cool and I think you’d be good for Brad, then I’ll pass on your information. If not, then that’s OK, too, because he’ll be mine when I get back from London.