With Marla gone, I pour some coffee and set to work. The gathering has left me a mess to clean up. I do a perfunctory sweep of used condoms, spent water bottles and what not. But I am on deadline, and so I am fast to my computer.
I am also hammered with the remains of my hangover. Too much booze, too much hosting, and the potential for a lover who seems all that. This hangover often happens after the gatherings; my body is awake to sex, and my mind is filled with images from the night before.
I want a little hair of the dog that bit me. I post an ad on Craig’s List. It reads:
“I'm a bi blonde, new to sex with men after a long marriage. I'm looking for someone who really likes sucking cock. I can top, I can dom, but today, a nice long blowjob is ideal.
I'm blonde, blue eyes, slim, good looking. I can host. You must be easy on the eyes. Send pic for reply.”
Within moments, my inbox has over a dozen applicants. The winner happens to live nearby. He writes:
“Hot post. I'm 25, 5'9", 155lbs, great body, nice chest and shoulders, brown hair, blue eyes, 7" cut. You sound like exactly what I'm looking for, so send me a pic if you're interested.”
His photo is very cute. Close cropped brown hair, sideburns, sensuous lips. And I like being exactly what someone is looking for. We talk and he says he will skate over.
He arrives on his blades. He is very matter of fact, a trait I like. And everything he says comes out as a question.
“You were married huh? So you like girls too?”
“You meet many guys online?”
“You have a lot of books. What are you reading now?”
This and more as he takes off his skates. Standing up in his stocking feet, he says, “Okay, you’re the host. You say where, when and what, okay?”
We go back to my room and embrace. I get the feel of his body, which is very firm. As we nuzzle, his hand goes to my cock. I bite his neck.
We undress each other. “So let’s get to it, okay?” he says.
I lie in bed and he climbs on top of me, holding me. Nice first move. He slips down to suck me, and he’s good: I am centered and focused on his mouth.
He sits up, and rides on my cock, jerking his own as he looks at me. I put my hands on his waist. He’s so compact, I feel I could lift him over my head. I rub his soft skin.
“Your ad says you like to get aggressive? What do you do when you are aggressive?”
“I never know what I will do until I do it,” I say. I twist my hips to toss him off me. I climb on top of him, running my hands along his arms. I pin his wrists behind his head with one hand. With the other, I trace lines on his face. I kiss his eyes. I don’t kiss his pretty mouth—a no no for pick ups—but I run my finger on his lips. I put three fingers into his mouth. He sucks them.
I climb up to feed him my cock. His arms are pinned by my knees.
I tell him that is nice. I reach back to tug his cock. He is so cute, and so pliable, I can’t resist. I suck him.
“Oh. Wow.” He says this like a kid finding a dime. I grab his slender hips, and he arches his back, moving as I do him. I think he might cum, so I stop and lay on him, working his cock with one hand, keeping the other in his mouth.
I sit up. I give his cock back to him, and we jerk, our cocks next to one another. He is about to blow. I grab his tits in my hands and squeeze. He shoots all over his chest and belly.
I kiss his face and lick his hair as he recovers, panting.
“What about you?,” he asks.
“Yeah, what about me?,” I say. “You up to give head, or are you too winded?”
He was too beat. We flip, and I jerk off under him. He plays with himself, already growing hard again. I give him a nice load.
“Awesome,” he says. No question marks this time—a declarative.
We clean up, and he continues his friendly interrogation of me as we dress. He thanks me as he skates out my door. I realize that we had been together less than an hour. I send him a nice thank you email, put on my coat, and head off to pick up the kids from school.
He sends me a sweet reply.
The life of a parent, and pervert, in New York City.
When told by my wife that our fifteen-year relationship was over, I found that everything in my life was upended. I took solace when friends and family pointed out I was no longer responsible for her personal happiness, just my own—and that of my four children.
I went into marriage as a bisexual kid, suspicious of monogamy. I was a good husband, and played by the rules. Now I'm single again, and wondering if I didn't have it right back then.
This blog picks up my new life in progress—the life of a parent, and pervert, in New York City.
Photograph by Adrian Buckmaster Photography. New York, NY. July 5, 2015.
(c) 2004-2019. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 License.
Jefferson
View My Complete Profile
I went into marriage as a bisexual kid, suspicious of monogamy. I was a good husband, and played by the rules. Now I'm single again, and wondering if I didn't have it right back then.
This blog picks up my new life in progress—the life of a parent, and pervert, in New York City.
Photograph by Adrian Buckmaster Photography. New York, NY. July 5, 2015.
(c) 2004-2019. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 License.
Jefferson
View My Complete Profile
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