Talk

Today I fucked a short, firm-bodied, hot-assed little Latino guy. His chest was completely smooth, and his face was a little on the boyish side, but he was otherwise almost exactly my type physically. But man, did he TALK.

It started after just a couple of exchanges online; he almost immediately wanted me to call him. I really don't much like to talk on the phone, even when it's not negotiating what happens between my dick and your asshole. But I particularly loathe sexy talk on the phone. So I made sure he was serious about hooking up soon-- I figured it would have to be a lunch break-- and then called him. His voice was a little high and latino-queeny, if you are familiar with the type, and he did want to ask all these details about how I was going to fuck him etc. I said, "I'd rather show you than talk about it," but said a few encouraging things about his ass and how I really wanted to eat it, which I guess was enough for him.


He showed up and wanted more talk-- about my apartment, about how hairy I am (I was wearing shorts and he kept staring at my legs), about the neighborhood, about his underpants (which he showed me by removing his pants right in the living room-- his ass looked fantastic in the little red briefs), about my LACK of underpants (which he discovered when he unzipped my fly and stuck his hand in), ugh. But I am friendly and nice so I indulged him. He just came from an overnight shift at work as a nurse, so he needed to take a shower. Then he got out and asked where we were going to go, what we were going to do there, if I wanted to fuck him, if I wanted to cum in him, blablabla.

I really, really don't like talk mixed with sex unless it's a direction from me about what you should be doing with my dick or how you should be laying for me to best enjoy your body, or one or the other of us talking about how good we feel. But an actual back and forth conversation, even if it's supposed to be sexy, seems to engage a part of my brain which is completely incompatible with the part that keeps my dick hard. It's genuine work to have to do it. Normally I'm pretty garrulous and love to talk, but if we're gonna fuck, let's fuck already.

He advertised cocksucking but didn't seem interested in giving my dick more than a few desultory, shallow sucks at a time. So I was having a hard time getting really hard. So I flipped him over and worked on his ass, which was a thing of beauty. His thighs were nicely hairy and very thickly muscled for a little guy, and his cheeks were shapely and firm as ripe mangoes. This got my dick going. He wanted to see it, and talk about it, and talk about my big hairy legs, and talk and talk. I flipped him over and sat on my haunches and stroked while he narrated this. Then I told him I was going to stick it in. "Without lube??" he said, and I said I'd like to try, and he said "Whatever you want papi" or something like that, "just go slow." So I put the head on the bullseye and let him wiggle down on it, which he did adequately. He wanted me to fuck him very slowly, which I was down for. He had an extremely muscular lower back and holding his waist up against my groin so I could dick him with his body spilling back and down from my grasp was perfect-- feeling his hipbones and his meaty flesh and the patch of hair just above his buttocks and the curve of his ass. We looked into each other's eyes while I dicked him long and deep, all the way in, all the way out, over and over. The pleasure of this seemed to be enough to shut him up for a long time... I was in a zone where I lost the awareness of time passing and all that existed were the six or seven inches of me that was sliding in and out of him.

He didn't want me to come too fast so we took a break to lie back together, and he talked and talked about my hairy legs, my hair, my dick, how I "raped" him with just spit and no lube, blablablablabla. He didn't seem to like how sweaty I had gotten while fucking him, so I toweled off. This was beginning to seem more frustrating than it's worth-- talky guys are almost always high-maintenance and less fun than guys whose eyes roll back in their heads and can do nothing but grunt out how hot I am and hot good I make them feel. To make matters worse, around this point the super buzzed me on the intercom to ask if I wanted my windows washed right then. No I did not, thank you. Does this crap only happen to me??

To get hard again, I flipped him over to enjoy the ass view some more. He hiked it up high and I exclaimed with pleasure, so then he got on all fours towards the edge of the bed. I got on the floor and just lapped and whimpered at it-- I feel at a loss for words to even describe how it felt against my face and lips and tongue, the short hairs, the intersecting curves, the salty tang, the SHAPE, that SHAPE. He told me it was not fair to "tease" him this way, so I stuck my dick in him and slid it in and out a few times, but I had to eat more. I was really beyond caring what he was saying at this point. I was just stroking myself and feeling my cum rise and enjoying my private little universe in the cleft of his bottom, with those thick thighs on either side of me. I decided it was now or never if I wanted to cum; any more talking and my erection would be gone forever. So I flipped him over, stuck it to him, ignored his pleas to go slow, rammed him into the mattress, and flooded him with my spooge. Halfway through the orgasm my dick popped out because I was plowing too hard, with strokes that were too long, so I grabbed myself and banged my dick with my fist as the last few spurts jetted out on his belly and chest. He said, "Why did you do that?" and I said, "I did come in you some," and he said "Put it back in," so I gingerly guided my now screamingly sensitive, tingling dickhead back into him. We held each other close as I grew soft. He stopped talking for good, and just stared at me. I was OK with that.

Afterwards we took a shower and he wanted to linger and talk and talk, but I had work to do and lunch to still eat. So I conversed at a bare minimum and finally he got the hint to go. He mentioned one more time how I "raped" him. He seemed awfully happy for a rape victim.