Ain't It The Way

Friday I had to do a last minute renewal of my passport for a business trip to Portugal next week. The office is down in Soho so I took advantage of being in a new hood to check out all the apps and hookup sites to maybe attract some new attention. I logged into all of them and waited to get my little blue book. When I was done, I had gotten an unlock from a tall Elijah Wood lookalike-- not really my type to be honest, but he had a sweet, tight little body, thick pec muscles on a rather willowy frame, perfectly matted with a beautiful short hair pattern that made my meat swell up in my pants as I sat there in the federal services building with boners and assholes winking at me from my little phone screen. His giant tool jutting out from that awesome little body didn't hurt any. "What's up, sir", he asked, and when I told him I was looking to get my meat sucked long and slow and have my giant week-old load swallowed, he expressed enthusiastic interest, and told me the cross streets he was at. This was seeming too easy! I gave him my number and asked for his specific address, and he wrote back pretty quickly, telling me he was hopping in the shower and to come up. Work has been as intense and frustrating and stressful as ever lately, and Fridays are never good days to hook up for some reason. This all seemed too good to be true-- my favorite kind of body wanted to plant itself between my legs and drain my nuts and drink me down, and was a ten minute walk away, no muss no fuss, was I just being buttered up?

Of course!

I got to his intersection and my phone battery was very low. I asked for his apartment number and waited, convinced the phone would suddenly die before I could go get off, but then he replied, saying he just got out of the shower and reread my message. "I don't really get into swallowing. Is that ok?" Ugh, my heart sank. But I was there, and lately I have to take whatever chance to get off I can, since there is never even any time to fondle my nuts any more, and I just wanted to grind my dick into that hairy little torso and feel him up, so I texted back, "I guess it'll have to be!" and he gave me the apartment number.

I got there and it was a nice new West Village apartment, surprisingly big for a mere mortal to be living in these days-- it must cost a fortune-- but it was just strewn with crap: clothes, bags, papers, books, small open boxes. Ugh. But his little body was straining against the fabric of his shirt and beckoning me to go enjoy it. So I pulled him close to me, began kissing and groping him, and decided to just take what was mine. He kissed back pretty nice, but groped at my groin rather clumsily and tweaked my nipples very hard, as if somehow pinching them off would get my motor going. This didn't bode too well. But I kept saying, sweet hairy little body, sweet hairy little body, and just kept feeling him up until my dick began to thicken and lengthen in preparation for being worshipped. And I pulled it through my fly and pushed him to the floor and let him work on it.

It felt pretty good, but he was definitely one of those guys who can only take maybe three inches of dick before tightening up and refusing to get it any deeper. The ridge of my dickhead kept popping deliciously, tantalizingly past his lips, in and out, pop pop pop, but I longed to push the entire length of my pleasure organ into his wet velvety warm depths and really enjoy myself. But he would tighten and resist, and I feared if I really pushed it he'd end up yakking all over my nads. So I sighed, and pulled him back up to kiss me some more, and said, "Can we go to your bed?" He nodded and led me downstairs to an equally messy, disorganized bottom floor, and a bed full of clothes, little plastic containers, and bottles of poppers.

He continued to give me half good, half frustrating head and I pulled all his clothes off and flipped him on his back and ground my big hairy body into his sweet little one. The entire time his hand was planted between us, yanking hard at his beautiful, long dick; he kept jabbing me in the gut with his jerking motions. It's been a long time since I hooked up with a guy who jerked off through the whole thing. It's a turnoff… I would happily take care of that delicious, long tubesteak for him if he would just focus on mine. We did 69 a good bit, and I took his entire fleshy length down my throat, perhaps to show him how it's done, and he would moan and curl up into me with pleasure, but he continued to suck at most three inches of me. Sigh.

Finally my nuts just wanted to squirt and go back to sleep, so I asked him where he wanted me to cum, and he wanted it on that beautifully hairy chest, so I banged my dick against him, and rocked him hard into the bed, prompting him to say, "You should come back again and fuck me," and I kept hammering away, just enjoying the feeling of the curves and silky skin of his body, and the fine velvety hairs all over it, and then reared up and squirted thick jets of my goo all over his torso.

His own dick instantly deflated. It was very surprising. I think he was completely done. He didn't cum, but seeing me cum was like the pinnacle of his sexual experience. Very odd.

We chatted a little bit-- he had just moved in there, which might explain the terrible mess-- and his demeanor was very desultory and evasive. So many guys are like this, especially white guys-- just not in touch with their bodies, their sex, anyone around them. I'd love to come back and fuck that body, for sure. Just not sure I'd like to actually fuck that guy.

So little time to have sex lately! I hate wasting my cum like this.