web log analysis Confessions of a Promiscuous Top: Ages

Tuesday, June 4, 2013


Today I said "What the hell" to myself and went over to the house of a 58 year old dude so I could just get off down the throat of a decent cocksucker already. I'm pretty sure I've fucked my way through the few available bottoms here so I didn't have high expectations for anything, and he looked okaaaaay in his pictures, but at least said all the right things in response to my craigslist ad about wanting to park himself between my legs and lap away at my joystick till my nuts squirt. So while he really was a bit on the old side for me, I decided to give him a whirl. Ironically, this is after being pestered for the better part of an hour yesterday by a 19-year-old who has "had sex 4 times" and thinks I'm the hottest guy on a4a. I'm sure he says that to all the girls, and who knows if he's for real or not, but I'd turned him down long ago and he seemed genuine in having pined away for me ever since; he also convincingly conveyed that didn't know what raw fucking was (he seemed to think it meant I wanted to fuck him UNTIL he was raw, but recovered with an insouciance and willingness to submit to it that at least *seemed* 19 years old to me). Feeling rather geezerlike myself, I kept stringing him along, amused and not a little titillated by the idea of dumping my seed into a kid barely older than my nephews. But the pictures were just too, too angelically applecheeked and underdeveloped (though the dick and ass weren't). I couldn't imagine getting a boner for that in person. I wasn't into most guys that age even when I *was* that age. And when I pulled up to the Game Geezer's apartment, and saw him standing outside looking for me anxiously because it could be "confusing" to find his place (it wasn't), I thought, I dunno how I can get a boner for *that*, either. But I also felt, despite my middle-aged paunchy and wrinkled reality, like a golden god of beauty visiting a mere mortal, to bestow my heavenly testicular ambrosia on the unsuspecting and righteous. I figured, he and I can make this be all about my dick. And it was in fact all about my dick, and I love my dick, and he loved my dick, and my dick loved it too, so, success!

Once in his place he gestured at his vast collection of armchairs, sofas, loveseats, and loungers in his vaguely country living room, asking if I wanted to do it there or go upstairs. I opted for upstairs, so we tromped up there to a giant mission-style bed. And I unceremoniously pulled my shorts off and hopped on the bed and told him to show me what he's got. He pulled off his pants but left his shirt on, positioned himself at the altar, and began a very sweaty worship session. He was shaking and kept having to pull off to breathe; I dunno how often he gets lucky but he seemed pretty overwhelmed and I fantasized with some alarm that he might have a heart attack down there with my meat still in his mouth. He kept wiping his brow with both hands while still firmly clamped down on my organ! It was rather amusing. After a while he said, "Let me take my shirt off, it's kind of hot," and the sight was not the loveliest in the world. His skin was very, very wet and clammy. He kept clamping my thighs against his body with his armpits. His technique was not bad at all, though, and he followed instructions well enough to be quickly led to my dickhead's best hotspot, and dedicated enough to essentially hit that spot over and over relentlessly without letup until I'd come to the edge at least three times, and also knew enough to back off instantly when I said so.

Eventually he really seemed uncomfortable, so I asked how he was doing. He wobbled up on his forearms and nodded towards the foot of the bed, which was raised. "My shins keep banging into that," he admitted. "Maybe we can lay diagonally, and I can stretch out better?" We tried that, but then MY head was banging against the ledge at the top of the headboard. The things one endures when getting his cock serviced! "How about we go down to one of those chairs," I suggested perkily, feeling tremendously unsexy with the whole situation, but undeniably in the spell of his rather attentive head and wanting to be edged a few more times. He agreed and we went down there. I positioned myself on couch #9 with my legs open, and he got on all fours in front of me and my boner stuck straight out and right down his throat at the perfect angle. It almost felt detached from my body, like this amazing cosmic dick floating in space before me, radiating delightful ripples of pleasure into me. I had mostly kept my eyes closed this whole time, really just focusing on the pleasure more than him or myself. And it carried me to the brink of an orgasm I thought I could edge away from again, but could not; it was determined to come pulsing out of me and it did, hard. He squealed and somehow managed to sweat even more as he gulped me down. Mighty fine for a twenty-minute blowjob.

He kept tonguing my length lightly as I deflated and leaked my last few drops of left-behind jizz through my cumhole. And then he popped me out and I zipped up rather unceremoniously, complimenting him on his pretty, flagstoned back yard. He flashed a smile that was full of preternaturally white, straight choppers, rather reminding me of a Polydent commercial from when I was a kid. He told me to "bring those balls by again if they fill up," which I found charming, but I'm outta here, dads, and can't wait.

But now I *am* hoping I might run into the right 19 year old to sponge in. Something has clicked. Egad.

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