Cheating

Today I had the honor of helping a guy in a relationship of five years cheat for the first time, though I didn't know this until after the fact. He pursued be on Daddyhunt rather aggressively, and I suppose I should have known something was up; his profile only showed a hairy chest picture, and in private chat he would only show the left half of his face. It always amazes me how people think doing things like this, or wearing sunglasses or a hat, will actually keep someone who knows them from recognizing them on a homo fuck site. On the contrary-- anyone who knows you will immediately recognize you in a hat or sunglasses or cut down the middle; only dudes who are contemplating sticking their dicks in you for fun are thwarted by these ruses. But the left half of his face was pretty manly and nice looking, and he also sent a rather nice meaty dick pic and a closeup of his ass which pretty much only served to inform me that there was indeed a crack in his ass. I rather intended to blow him off except that I felt really horny today and wanted to be serviced, and while he didn't seem to talk about sex in a very interesting way, he really seemed to want me, so I figured he'd do. He was coming from New Jersey and would take forever to get here; normally I'm way too high-strung to wait around two hours for someone to come suck my dick, wondering endlessly if they're going to flake and leave me with blueballs, or if they'll not look like their picture and I'll have to send them away heartlessly, or even worse, if THEY won't like ME and let me know just how much of their time they wasted in getting here. But today I figured I didn't have the energy to actively cruise for anything, and was happy to invite a handsome guy like him over. As the time passed I got less and less enthusiastic... and then, he showed up.

Even over the crappy monitor of our communication system with the doorman, I could see that he looked much better than I had supposed from his pictures. I am not even sure that chest pic was his. I had gotten the feeling that he was rather meatball-like, but he had a beautiful naturally athletic build, with a narrow waist, broad shoulders, and an ass that was just flirting with ampleness without overdoing it. He showed up in my apartment looking rather nervous and noncommittal, not looking at me straight in the face. This, coupled with him being better looking than I expected, made me feel like a little toad. He was one of those dudes who kiss just with their rigid, protruding tongue. But he looked so stupidly hot in his baseball cap, with that long, thick, bull-like neck and those beautiful meaty curves showing under his t-shirt and shorts, that I didn't care. I just wanted to feel him up and get my dick in him somewhere, somehow.

Online I'd told him I wanted to fuck him raw, and he balked at that, but didn't get completely scared away from coming over. So there was a lot of dispirited feeling in my apartment this afternoon, but this kind of male beauty has an almost bewitching hold on me; I'd probably go through just about any hell to rub up against it. I led him back to the bedroom and he kept groping at my nonresponsive dick while I tried to kiss him properly and feel his body. I figured I was going to have to try two things if this was going to succeed: be demanding and eat his ass. So I told him to turn around and let me check him out from behind, then after praising the ass to the skies, told him to take of his pants and let me eat it out. He was awkward and hesitant but, like most dudes in this situation, did what he was told. He pulled off the shorts to reveal tight-fitting black boxer briefs which pretty much made my cerebellum scream and fall on its little fainting couch above my brain stem. I felt his body through the thin jersey fabric, from the taut roundness on back, around the hard musculature of his upper thigh, over his beautiful hipbone, and down to the meaty mass of his genitals, bundled sweetly in his underpants. "Go over to the bed and bend over," I barked, and he said, "What?" as if this command were too complicated to obey, so I pretty much marched him there and pushed him over. He stood very rigidly as I pulled down the underpants to reveal a heartbreakingly beautiful ass sheltering thick round smooth-shaved balls. His back was arched with tension as he leaned over the bed. But once I got my face in there and probed away at his inner sanctum with my tongue, I felt his body slacken with the first hints of un-self-conscious pleasure, and before long he was hunched up on the bed, hiking his rear in my face greedily, while I felt up his thighs, his hips, his flanks, his beautiful meaty rough hairy chest, his arms, and sometimes sucked a nut or his still-flaccid dick down my throat.

I became un-self-conscious too, and did pretty much as I liked with this fantastic body. He was quite rough, though, squeezing my nipples like empty tubes of toothpaste and biting my neck. When I spread him out on his back and ground my far inferior body into his, he finally stopped and just wrapped his limbs around me, sighing and stroking the hair on my back, feeling my dick slide up and down along his body.

And I wish we could have stayed like this. But he was a rather conventional latin dude, full of the latin fire, and soon we were wrestling and hurting each other again. He only calmed down whenever I had him face down with his ass in my face. There need to be new words introduced into the English language for me to express how fantastic his ass was. I cannot. But I feel it. Oh fuck, do I feel it, still.

On his back again, I just admired his body and stuck my finger in his hole. "I gotta fuck this," I finally said. "If you want to," he said, alluding to my earlier statement that if he wouldn't go raw I'd rather just eat his ass and get serviced. I had set my little box of condoms on the nightstand just in case this happened, and so I slicked and rubbered up and began to try to prepare his innards for my onslaught.

But immediately he seriously tightened up, almost cutting off the circulation to my index finger as I stroked his prostate and made his eyes roll back in his head. I worked his gland for a long while, occasionally sucking his dick (which had now gotten quite hard and was the cleanest-smelling uncut cock I ever met), waiting for a letup in the pressure. It didn't come. "You are TIGHT," I announced, and he laughed shyly, saying he was nervous. "Let's just relax," I said, sliding the rubber off and tossing it on the bed. "I could sit on it," he suggested; I loathe being ridden, so I just said, "Let's just relax, let me be close to you again." And I laid my dick beside his and slid down on top of him and we humped into each other. My dick was beautifully slippery from the lube.

I came.

Stupid stupid balls! They just decided, "This man is too attractive, we're tired of you teasing us, we're in charge here, and we're going to squirt." And they did.

I was whining "Aw no, no, no," and he looked frightened and said "What's wrong?" and I reared up on my haunches just as I began spattering him with my slimy reproductive fluid. He looked down, saw what was happening, and said, in a rather cute, childlike spanish-inflected voice, "You cum a lot!"

"Sorry man!" I cried. "You're just too beautiful." And I admired his body as he fisted himself, hard, and I assumed a topping position again over him, holding his hip with one hand and leaning on his shoulder with the other, and made fucking motions against him as he tried to make himself cum; as I pummeled him harder he seemed to get close, but then lost it. "I don't think I can cum," he said. "I know, the pressure is on now! I already came!" He looked at me sheepishly and I said it was OK, and asked if he wanted me to clean him up. He said he would just as soon take a shower. I got him some water while he was in there, and when he came out, he told me he had a partner. And that they don't have enough sex any more. And that this is only the second time he met anyone to "do this", he said, looking at the rumpled bed. "And the first time..." "Didn't work out?" I suggested. He nodded. "I mean, we met, but he didn't look like... I said, 'You don't look like yourself.'"

I stupidly said, "Well... I'm honored! Unless you just finally got so frustrated you did it with me anyway." He didn't respond to this pitiful self-deprecation negatively, but instead said, "Oh no, you're my type of guy, I like guys who are..." and he made shapes in the air with his hands between us as he tried to figure out a way to say schlubby hairy dudes without sounding insulting. Then he finally said, "...You know, older. Not that you're much older than me. But you know..." and I stroked my salt-and-pepper beard, and he laughed, relieved, and said, "Yeah, like the beard."

I told him I had a partner too, and he said, "You didn't tell me that!" I'm pretty sure it says so on my profile. But then he said, "Does he know?" and I told him we were open, and he said, "Well, mine doesn't." We talked a bit about it and I was trying to be helpful but it seemed to be making him a little anxious. He told me he worries about catching something out there doing this. I suddenly felt like a cad asking him to take my slutty raw dick inside his temple of a body. He got dressed, and I kept groping his body. His accent was a little thick, and he was rather soft-spoken, so I wasn't sure exactly what he was saying at the end, whether he wanted to get together again, really not sure at all. But he left.

And in my mind, I'm still having sex with him. But... MY way. In my mind, he is sensual, responsive, open, not anxious, not rough, not trying too hard. He shows me his body and lets me luxuriate in it and watches with satisfaction. He kisses me languidly and we get lost in each other's savor. He takes my fat raw dick inside him without resistance and we fuck all afternoon and I cum so deep inside him it will never be found. I feel energized from the exertion of wrestling with his body, and I had fun even though it was short-lived. But I can't stop these fantasies from unspooling in the hours afterward. His body is fantastic, but it's trapped in a web of formative forces that keep it just beyond my grasp.

I wonder what he thinks about me?