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I woke up in a total funk. I’d spent the night on the internet trying to find someone I could connect with, and for a while I thought I’d actually found a guy. He was intelligent, he had a good sense of humor, and we didn’t live far apart. Oh, and I left out one little detail, he was a top. A take-charge top. We talked back and forth, pushing each other’s sensual buttons, and it became erotic in no time flat. Then, all of a sudden he disappeared with out so much as saying, thank you very much. I guess I had to look at it like the cup was half full. I mean, was able to jack off for at least an hour.
I was dying for a relationship. I wanted a guy who would corral me, so to speak. I was just coming out as a gay man after years of not really allowing that part of me to emerge. I was in my early 50’s and I’d never allowed myself to feel any attraction to men, in spite of the fact that I only slept with men, and my fantasies were exclusively about men. Although, visually I was attracted to women. In therapy I discovered that I wouldn’t allow myself to look at a man for more than a second. My therapist, Ilene, said, “Look at him. Allow yourself some feelings. Ask yourself, are you attracted to him physically?” All this had been quite revealing for me. I realized I’d been suppressing my sexual attraction towards men for my entire life. As I began to explore this I discovered I liked mature men like myself. Men who had been around the block a few times. He didn’t have to be a hunk, in fact quite the opposite. As long as they were masculine. And, I found I liked guys who carried a bit of weight. Blue collar guys were a plus. And, balding guys were to die for, as were men with shaved heads. A shaved head was so macho. My sexual role with a man was always clear. I was a complete bottom. One hundred percent. I could suck, and I loved being fucked, but I didn’t care a thing about reversing the roles. Actually I was totally oral, and given this appetite, I took to cock sucking like magnetic north. Put me on my knees in front of a guy, and I was in seventh heaven. Licking his cock, first around the head, and then further down the shaft. Putting his balls in my mouth, and smelling that macho musk that makes a man, a man. Then, taking his cock in my mouth, sucking on it, and letting it glide down my throat. Ultimately there was nothing like having a guy shoot his load while his dick was deep inside me. Feeling the cum hit the back of my throat was a real thrill. Cock sucking was one sensual experience for me, and I could do it for hours. I was actually seeing several men, but none were serious relationships. And, all of them were married. You know how that is, or do you? As I said, I’m a cocksucker. And, these married guys couldn’t get that at home, so… they somehow found there way to me via the internet. There was Bob, and John, and Alonzo, and Harry, and… How many were there? I’d lost track. I’d see each of them once a month on the average. If I had my way about it, I’d be doing a dick a day. The one that really rang my chimes was a guy called David. He was about 5’ 11” with a stocky build. That first time I went over to his house I knew he was my kind of guy. My MO was to strut out my femme personality to let them know I was an old queen on the prowl, and then see what would happen. In fact, I had one pair of glasses I wore that clearly defined me as being a gay man, and that was what I wanted my guys to know. It was a hot summer night in Los Angeles. He had his shirt off, and I couldn’t take my eyes off him. We’d barely said hello when he snapped his fingers and pointed at his feet with a ferocity that left me no choice but to drop to my knees. With out knowing why I found myself kissing his feet, and liking it. “You got the idea, bitch,” he said calmly. I felt so comfortable with his cool, calm, take-charge personality, and I swooned at the sound of his voice. The rest of the evening was relatively “vanilla,” and after about an hour of oral pleasure I was given my reward. He shot a massive load down my throat. I excused myself to use the restroom, and as was my habit I covered my groin with my hand. I did this because I knew many men were uncomfortable being with another man, and covering my manhood in this way afforded me the gender anonymity my men seemed to need. It wasn’t that I was well endowed, in fact quite the contrary. Unless I was aroused it almost appeared as though I barely had a penis. The head protruded slightly from with in the pubic hair, but that was it. As I came back into the room he took notice. “What are you doin’?” he asked. “Nothing,” I replied, not quite knowing what to say. “Look, if you don’t like what you got down there, be my pleasure to do something about it,” he said in a serious tone in his voice. Inside I felt a warm comfortable feeling. Why, I don’t know. Although I don’t really have a lot of body hair, he told me to shave what little there was off, and that he expected me to be completely smooth if we were going to continue seeing each other. I'd never met a man with David’s confidence, and I loved his style. (To be continued)
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