Torture

Today I fooled around with an absolutely adorable little Italian guy. He is someone I first talked to last fall sometime. I thought he was extremely cute, the vaguely nerdy, vaguely manly looking kind of guy with a small build that for some reason is just about never attracted to me but which drives me absolutely bat-shit crazy with attraction. It's probably not a look that most people would think is that exciting, but it's perfect for me, and I just about never get to hook up with anyone like that (I think I've fucked more actual bodybuilders than little handsome nerds, and I'm nothing special to look at myself). So when he appeared around lunchtime and said he would be free towards the end of the day and wanted to suck my dick, an animal lust uncoiled itself inside me. We exchanged information so we could get in touch when he was free and I felt simultaneously like a bunch of gold coins were suddenly being poured into my arms, but also that it was going to be torture waiting four hours for him to come over. This is online hooking-- anything can happen, dudes flake all the time, typically with a frequency that is in direct proportion to how badly you want to get with them. I began to wait and try to concentrate.



And it *was* torture. I could barely concentrate and had to restrain myself from looking at his picture over and over so I wouldn't seem like a nutty stalker. I ended up looking at a bunch of porn and made myself even more nutso horny. But is there really anything as exciting as anticipation? I felt like he was a good guy and would not cancel on me. That anticipation of something you have wanted for a long time, which you are sure but not perfectly sure is going to happen, is absolutely intoxicating.

He texted me right when he said he would and asked for my address. I couldn't wait! He showed up a few minutes early! He was just as cute in person... nice dark beard with just a touch of gray to it, closely clipped hair on his head, a slight build but well-proportioned, cute clunky glasses. He did not seem too into kissing, which was a different kind of torture because his lips were sensuous pillows and the pheromones he gave off had me panting like a dog. I pulled out my now thick, meaty dick and he dropped to his knees and worshiped it. He was clearly very into dick. He pulled off his shirt to reveal pale skin and a beautiful chest hair pattern. We got into bed and he curled himself around me while he sucked my dick, touching me everywhere-- torso, shoulders, petting the hair on my forearms, stroking my thighs and calves, holding my feet, all the while expertly tonguing my now rock-hard erection. He had meltingly deep brown eyes and would periodically look at me with my meat in his mouth, then close his eyes again blissfully. We were all over each other and yet he never took my dick out of his mouth.

When I got on top of him he wrapped himself around me tightly, hooking our legs together, then putting his feet on my calf muscles while he held my back or stroked my beard. He had warmed up to kissing now, and we made out fiercely. The whole time I kept thinking, How in the world could something this simple be so fucking fun? I never wanted to stop, but I had not gotten off since Tuesday's desultory sex. So my nuts were churning fiercely with pent-up semen, and I wanted desperately to cum. But I wanted desperately NOT to cum. I fingered his asshole and he began to breathe heavily-- until this point he was very quiet and I had worried he was not quite as into it as I was. I didn't know if I would be able to get my dick inside him without instantly popping. But this guy would be a primo A+ grade a fuck, I could tell. I wanted it so badly but knew I couldn't do it the way I wanted to. I would have to be happy with sucking his face, fucking his mouth, touching his limbs, humping his body. More torture.

He positioned himself to 69 with me. He had a bone-hard dick which was very long but had to be the thinnest dick I've ever been with; my dick looked like a bulldog next to his greyhound. But I took it all the way down my throat pretty easily a few times, and then sucked his balls and licked his asshole. God, I wanted to fuck the hell out of him. I got back on top of him and we had this long period of blissful, almost motionless, hard body contact, with the weight of my body pressed on every inch of his, legs entwined, me holding the back of his head and tonging the inside of his mouth; him holding my shoulders, petting my arms.

And then I felt it.

I pressed my face into his neck and moaned "Oh no, oh no, oh no," and I tried as hard as I could to suppress the deluge that my body was intent on pushing out of my nuts. I relaxed as best I could but it felt too, too good against him, his breath, his skin, his hair, his flesh in my hands, and I felt the slickness oozing out of my dickhead and sliding up against his belly and I knew there was no hope, I had to cum. More torture! I sat back and jerked my dick and unloaded thick ropes of pent-up pleasure all over him, simultaneously feeling dismay and a kind of triumph-- this was a fantastic, copious orgasm. He furiously fisted his bone, and when I put my hand in my cum on the side of his belly to keep it from running all over the place, the sliding motion made him throw his head back and unload his own thick white cum, stark against his pubic hair.

It was excellent, but I had wanted to be with him all afternoon... I had wanted it to never stop.

We cleaned up a bit and talked some. He had a very sweet accent and occasionally struggled to find words. He seemed to want to talk a lot, and I so wanted to beg him to let me fuck him sometime. But I held back and we just chatted about my neighborhood, his neighborhood, Italy. He was back in no-kissing mode. Who knows what goes on in the minds of other men? And we gave each other a small peck and off he went-- he turned quiet again in the moments right before he left.

And I am sitting here, still on fucking fire. Torture! The best torture.