Tuesday, April 23, 2013

Showing Off with Dean

Near My Home—March, 2013

I was at work.  Dean, the handsome top who is expanding his bottom side with me, was chatting with me online.  We had covered the weather, his last bar night, CLAW coming up in April and an exchange about a hot ass we wanted to share.  Then he typed a sentence that made me sweat:  “I hear you write a sex blog.”
I typed back something noncommittal:  “Oh?”

“It’s fucking hot.  Especially those entries about a certain guy named Dean.”
I wiped my clammy hands on my jeans and relaxed a little.

“You liked those?”
“It was just like you were doing me again.”

“Thanks,” I pecked out.
"I have three hours before a meeting.  Can we meet at the bookstore downtown?”

We agreed as to exactly where and when, and then I told my boss that I was done for the day...
He was right on time.  We parked next to each other in the lot.  We went into the new gay theatre.  The bookstore has taken out some unused preview booths and built a separate, but equal gay theatre.  About a dozen new chairs were scattered around the room.  A padded bench ran against the side wall.  We were alone in the space—except for some pretty boys doing some passionless fucking on the large flat screen.

 I am in my Camoes, old army shirt and combat boots.  He’s dressed for his board meeting.  He steps out of his slacks and folds them neatly as I sit on the padded bench and unbutton my pants.  An obedient boy, now dressed in just his briefs and dress shirt, he kneels between my splayed legs.  My cock is rock hard.  I can never believe my good fortune— that someone I always wanted and thought was unobtainable, is once again taking my cock into his mouth.  I make him hold a moment, with just the head in his mouth.  I want to savor seeing that handsome face grind into my pubes as he slides home.  He does, pausing for just a moment, then takes me all the way.  He lingers for a long second, squeezing me in the back of his throat.  Then he’s up and off my cock.  I lean forward to kiss him.  We kiss hungrily.  His tongue pokes spit and pre-cum into my mouth.  I swallow some, and give the rest back to him.  He swallows and our mouths meet again.  I let him go back down on me.  His head bobs up and down, as I stroke his head.
I finally have to pull him off me.  He stands.  His tented designer shorts are right in front of my face.  No cock cage today.  I pull them down and take him into my mouth.  His cock is dripping.  I swirl my tongue around the head.  He groans and holds me in place by my ears.  He begins to fuck my face.  That thick cock of his makes me oval my mouth wide.  He fucks my mouth.  The fingers of his right hand move up to my head, making designs on my shaved scalp. 

“Oh, man…” he mutters.  I can see him will himself to stop before he blows. 
I pull off his cock.  “I want to eat your ass.”

He gets on all fours on the padded bench.  I kneel, but the bench is so low I am hunched over in a really awkward position.  It doesn’t stop my tongue from connecting with his hole.  He groans and says something I can’t understand, as his face is pressed against the plywood wall.  I spit into his hole and snake my tongue into him.  And again.  But I have to stop.  I am hurting my neck.
“Sit there,” he says as he gets up and points to the middle of the bench.  I do, my back against the wall.  He steps up onto the bench, his back to me.  He’s tall enough that he can straddle me and lower his ass onto my face.  I gurgle my encouragement.  I can’t get enough of his ass, lightly haired and now slightly open to my tongue.  I eat and twist my tongue in even deeper.  Fuck my rimseat, this is heaven right here.  I have to stop stroking my cock, I’m so turned on by his ass.

When his knees get tired, he gets down.  I get up and we kiss.  For a long time.  I don’t kiss many men.  I can’t stop kissing him.  When we separate, I ask “How long do we have?”
Dean looks at his phone.  “I still have an hour before the meeting.  It’s really close to here.”  He looks at me, and kisses me lightly once more.  “Fuck me.”

I push him towards some chairs against the back wall, so he can brace himself on one of their arms.  I eat his ass a little more, stroking my cock and applying some lube to it.  I stand up.
"You able to clean out at work?” I murmur in his ear.

“This morning I did.”
I make a quick mental compute of time and fish a Magnum out of my pocket.  I slip it on without his being aware.  I lube heavily.  He bends, holding onto the arms of the plastic seat.  I slap my engorged head against his hole.  And I move into him slowly.  He grunts.  I pause.  I push.  He takes me.  He’s takes me more easily every time we fuck.  I hold, with my entire length in him.  He is stroking.  Furiously.  I start a steady fuck rhythm. 

The door buzzes and opens.  We are directly in front of it.  And don’t care.  I fuck.  My balls slap Dean’s ass as an overweight Mexican stands for a moment, framed in the doorway, then steps in, continuing to watch us.  He gropes himself, but makes no move to touch us. 
I fuck even harder with an audience. 

My balls whack at his ass.  My hand connects with his upturned ass.  He’s close.  I can tell.
The Mexican leaves—breaking our concentration as the door is yanked open and slams shut.  I pull out.  He’s clean.  I rip the condom off, thinking I’d slide back in raw. 

“Oh, fuck.”  He’s going to shoot.
“I want it,” I tell him.

“You do?”
He has never cum in my mouth.

I sit on the floor against the side wall nearest us.  Dean comes toward me.  His dripping cock looks huge and red. I open wide.  He pushes in and fucks my mouth for maybe two strokes.  He explodes.  He grabs the sides of my head and pumps his seed down my throat.  I try to pull back slightly—I want to taste it.  I am able to squirm back just enough to let the third spurt go across my tongue.  It’s sweet and thick and viscous.  And there is a lot of it.  Dean starts to pull out.  I grab his balls and hold him in place.  I get one last spurt.
I clean him off.  It’s that moment I can’t get enough of with any man.  To do it for Dean means more than I want to write here.

He pulls me up.
We kiss. 



  1. Sweet. There is more than comfort to be found in repeated experiences... there is also a sort of imprinting that takes place as we share more of ourselves with our partner each time we fuck. Some of it is physical memory, some of it is communicated subliminally - our wants, our needs, our desires. Shine on. - Uptonking from Wonderland Burlesque

    1. I love repeats. And I love the thrill of the new, too. After my life partner died, I was pretty sure I could not do that again. Instead, I saw myself with a number of regulars. Five or six guys you can grow with sexually and to whom I could feel an emotional attachment. I have managed some of that. I have a number of men I see regularly--as you can tell from reading these pages--who satisfy different sexual needs and who I genuinely care for. But I will always love the thrill of the new!

  2. Hey from Germany your new Fan!!! :-) Super hot Story.... I could certainly learn a lot from you....and from your big cock!!!! ;-)

    1. Thank you. He is an incredible play partner---either as a bottom for me or a fellow top.

  3. You two really seem to share a hot connection. It really comes through in this post. Passion on top of good sex is the ultimate.