Again??

Today I bagged another of my favorite kind of guy! And again, there was something lacking in his sexual demeanor. What *is* this?

I had spoken to him on Scruff before, and we flashed each other naughty pix there, but the conversation didn't go very far. And this afternoon I saw him on BBRTS, and hit him up again. Here he was much more enthusiastic, perhaps because on this site it was easy to know we both wanted a raw fuck, and on Scruff you just don't know what half the people are up for, or how quickly to turn conversations sexual, or what. At least for me. Within a few messages he was inviting me over to fuck his brains out. I was extremely excited on the way over-- he was only a few subway stops away, deeper into Brooklyn, so I was there in 15 minutes or so.

When I got to his apartment his looks did not disappoint; his body was not overbuilt but was beautifully meaty and just so freakin cute. He was about 5'9 and felt so good in my arms. He kissed oddly, insisting on only kissing my upper lip, which felt rather imperious somehow, and he only permitted just so much kissing at a time. He, like the last guy, was a little on the fidgety side, mimicking my touching of him but less languidly, less gracefully, more jerkily. I was disappointed at his lack of interest in kissing but was very engrossed in kneading his ass, and when I brushed my beard against his neck... BINGO! His whole body coiled into me with intense pleasure, and when I opened my mouth and ran my tongue along the meaty tendon running from his shoulder to his ear, gently biting into it along the way, he moaned and I felt his dick get hard in his pants. I kept it up and my own dick got hard and he felt for it through my shorts and sighed with satisfaction. I pulled out my bone and told him to get on his knees and suck it, but he *bent over* and sucked it from the side, in the most awkward way imaginable. Needless to say it wasn't very satisfying head, with him being utterly unable to hit the best spots from that kind of angle. Who does that?? But I was still so excited just to be with him. His bearded face looked extremely handsome with my thick bone buried in it.

Eventually he stood up and smiled at me and said we should go to the bed. I trotted along behind him and lay back in his bed and invited him to suck me some more. But instead he straddled me and kissed me some more with that strange focus on my upper lip. Clearly not that into giving head. His fleshy, firm body was very exciting to me, however, so I pushed him on his back and laid my slab of meat along side his and we ground into each other rather hungrily; he wrapped his limbs around me in all kinds of delicious ways but he was one of those bottoms who feels like he's constantly pushing you off him, as if you must wrestle your way back on. Bright light was slanting through his half-open louvered blinds and his face and eyes were dazzling in the brilliance. As we were in Bushwick, and his window was open, sudden loud Mexican music began playing at the window, and would not let up. It sounded rather like someone was standing outside with a boom box aimed right at us through the window, como algún Juan Cusak. Things were not going well but I was determined to make this work. I couldn't wait to fuck him and cum in him.

I flipped him and his ass was an absolute feast. Beautifully round and taut but yielding, just hairy enough but not bristly at the hole. He made lots of appreciative noises and his dick, a slender pink pretty protuberance that looked rather vulnerable in a way, was hard as a rock. I sucked it and his balls some. This was the best part. He loved it as much as me.

I mounted him and put my own rock-hard cockhead against his hole and pushed lightly several times, interspersed with more eating, but every time it got close to penetrating, I felt like I would instantly cum. He was so incredibly attractive to me, but he had not sucked me enough to get me to that place where my dick was not oversensitive and was ready for a deep warm anal barrage. I figured I'd have to stroke off a bit and finger him some to get him ready. He was EXTREMELY tight but he seemed to like being fingered. He had the biggest, roundest prostate I ever felt, and he moaned in rhythm to my stroking it with my fingertip.

I kept trying to coax him back onto my prong, but he was just incredibly, incredibly tight. I finally told him so, and asked if he had lube. He hopped up, pulled some Gun Oil out of a Bisley drawer (his place was pretty standard Brooklyn Artsy, with a lucha libre mask on the wall, a big stuffed bear's head gazing up from the floor, guitars leaning against the electric blue wall, geometric paintings and ironic graphic shag rugs hanging on the wall, etcetc) and I tried to grease myself up, but the little bottle was low enough on lube that I kept having to pump and pump it, and it kept flying out of my hands across the bed. Finally I got my dick slippery and pushed into him. Incredibly, incredibly tight, and again I thought I'd instantly cum. I had to pull back out.

He turned on his back and hitched back his legs. "You want me to fuck you this way?" I asked, and he nodded. He seemed much younger than his 36 years; he was very tentative about everything. I greased up more and pushed into him, and he gasped when he felt my whole length inside him and arced his back and tensed his legs and I had to grapple to stay on top of him and inside him. And then he popped me out; it actually felt like he was squeezing the blood right out of my erection and back into my body. My dick was not as hard on the way out as it had been on the way in, and as some of you might know, one of the tricks to prevent premature ejaculation is to squeeze the end of your penis really hard when you feel too good. I'm not really a premature ejaculator, though. When you do that to me, I just lose my erection and much of my sensitivity. And I was rubbery and not getting hard again, even when I laid on top of him and felt his delicious hairy meatiness bucking me, surrounding me, wrapping itself around my legs. I still felt like I was going to cum, though! And then, suddenly, I popped. All over his dick and balls. I wasn't hard enough to shoot long distance, but I came a lot because he was so beautiful to behold, so thick gelatinous pools of goo appeared in his pubes, on his thigh, on his balls.

He looked at me with an inscrutable, long gaze as he fiddled with his dick, his hands dipping sidelong into my goo. I slapped his meaty thighs a bit and laughed, and just stroked his body and his neck; he closed his eyes and accepted my caresses like a cat. And I said, "You're tight. You're awesome, but you're tight." And he seemed a little abashed. I told him I had to clean up and I couldn't tell if he was disappointed that I didn't stay there stroking him, or that I didn't cum in him, or that I didn't look more attractive, or who knows what. He got the shower ready for me, and I cleaned up, and then he cleaned up, and we talked about his rockin' apartment and his plans to model for a Drink and Draw thing one of the gay bars around here has later in the evening. I of course was awash with intense disappointment and shame that I couldn't pierce his impenetrable, beautiful rear satisfactorily. Another beautiful little hairy body, wasted on me!

And yet I sauntered home feeling OK. I did what I could do. His body still burns bright in my mind. I take what I can get sometimes. I guess my favorite kind of guy just isn't the right kind of guy for me.