A gay story: Anson and Jorge in Japan – a Sequel
Jorge left Anson’s apartment, leaving the bed and his arms on a high, ready for the last two weeks of his job at the hospital before his upcoming months off. He was a physician’s assistant and registered nurse who had specialized in respiratory issues during the COVID crisis. After working long and strenuous hours, witnessing the passing of many of his patients, and maintaining his mental health through frequent gym visits, Jorge was in need of a break. The hospital reluctantly granted his request for some time off.
Jorge, a 32-year-old Latino man, was from a single-parent household with only his mother. He was a tall, well-built man, standing at 5’11” with a light dusky complexion, curly black hair, dark brown eyes, and a square face. His body was defined with muscles, a result of his regular gym visits. Jorge was known for his sharp dressing style, but while at work, he sported the standard scrubs attire. He exuded sensuality and was very tactile, earning him the reputation of a Latin lover. He was also openly gay.
Originally, Jorge had planned to take his break at Yellowstone, providing medical aid at the park’s rangers’ station while enjoying the natural beauty of the area. However, he had responded to an unusual request on an elite dating website, which eventually led to him spending a few nights with Anson. After being invited by Anson to join a two-month long trip to Asia, with the added benefits of being a travel companion, Jorge had to reconsider his initial plans.
Anson Powell, a 52-year-old widower and lawyer, was still grieving the loss of his long-time spouse. He was ready to explore his bisexuality and was described as lively, intelligent, and social. Despite his age, many considered Anson to look at least 15 years younger. Standing at 6’2” with dark, curly hair, Anson was in great shape, maintaining a toned physique. He was known to be well-endowed but had never had any same-sex experiences while married. Jorge could pass as Anson’s younger brother, but certainly not his son – Anson looked too young.
As Jorge was getting dressed in Anson’s apartment before leaving for work, Anson extended an invitation for him to spend the night during the week and the following three-day weekend. Jorge responded with a smile, and the night they spent together was nothing short of wonderful. Never before had Jorge fallen so intensely for someone he had just met, and in just a week’s time.
With the pandemic drifting down in fits and starts, Jorge now found that he had a little more time to spend with patients. And he realized, of course, that most were no longer terminal. He was beginning to look forward to each day. He loved the health industry which he had joined after a stint in an Army medical unit and formal education. He greeted his colleagues with a ready smile and picked up his schedule for the day, planning to confer with the night staff who were “handing over” their charges. Sarah, one of his good friends, had had the night shift and was off for home. She began her review of the evening’s issues, but stopped and stared at Jorge. “Something’s different. You look like someone that Santa has just visited. Did you find someone this weekend?”
“As usual, I can’t keep anything from you. I did meet this guy and we’ve had two dates already. I’m hoping he is a keeper—and that he feels the same way.”
“I don’t have time now. Dan is working today and I need to relieve my mother who is watching our baby. But, tomorrow I want all the details, Jorge.”
“I promise. But here is the teaser. He’s asked me to take a vacation with him in two weeks.”
“I thought you were off to Yellowstone, alone. If you’re considering this, I can’t wait. See you tomorrow morning.”
The day went quickly. He was busy but not frantic. After work he called Anson. “Wednesday night, I’m free. I get off around 7 and could be at your place around 8.”
“Great. I’ll make some dinner. Plan to spend the night.”
Wednesday afternoon, Anson prepared his version of boeuf bourguignon—something that would keep if he and Jorge wanted to play before dining. He set out the plates and serving utensils. Then he set up drink stuff and a small plate of shrimp. He had no idea how much Jorge ate—or what he ate. The security concierge called to announce Jorge’s arrival and he was sent up. Anson met him at the elevator. Jorge had changed. He wasn’t in scrubs, but instead wore tight black jeans and a white button-down fitted shirt. The shirt contrasted nicely with his complexion and showcased Jorge’s brilliant white teeth and wide smile. He dropped the small duffel and wrapped Anson into a tight squeeze. “I can’t believe we have been apart for two days already. I think I’ve got it bad. I’ve been daydreaming about you and what you do to me. I had to keep pinching myself to reassure that I wasn’t dreaming all of this.”
“Unless you’re starved, let’s have a drink, then hit the bedroom before dinner. Or do I need to feed you before you put out?”
“Oh, I’m starved, but not for food.”
Jorge had his now standard Cuba Libre (light on the rum) while Anson had his 16 year old Loch Gillebragh—a single malt made in his ancestral village. They sat together and were in each other’s arms within minutes.
“I know the way. Let’s do this before I embarrass myself.”
Anson sipped the last of his scotch and rose to follow. Jorge was already disrobing by the time he reached the room. It didn’t take long: jeans (commando), a shirt slipped over his head, and sockless shoes. Jorge was standing by the bed in all his naked glory, erect and ready. “Oh, here. I’ve brought my clean certificate.”
“God, you’re beautiful,” said Anson, pulling off his slacks and polo.
Jorge stepped forward and lifted Anson from his feet and softly placed him on the bed. Then he stretched himself out in a full cover and took his lips. “I’ve been thinking about this most of the day—and all of the time it took me to get here after work. I’m gonna last only about 30 seconds!”
“You’re lucky that this old man can still go two or three times a day.” With these words, Anson pushed Jorge to his side and on his belly. He propped up the muscled ass with a pillow or two, spread the legs and reached over for the lube. “I’m going to start buying this by the case.” He pulled the ass cheeks apart and began to slather the glide around the rim of Jorge’s inviting entrance. Then he lubed himself.
“Just slam it in. I can take it. I’m so ready.”
“But this is our first time skin to skin. I want this to be memorable.”
“If you don’t get in now, my only memory will be that you got me off without even fucking me.”
“Those don’t sound like the words of a sub.”
“Maybe not, but they are the words of a hungry, famished, bottom. Put that pole in. Now, please, sir.”
So Anson positioned to enter. He was rock hard, almost achingly so. But as soon as he touched, Jorge pushed himself up hard and impaled himself. Anson was amazed at the maneuver. No one had ever done that to him before. No one had ever taken his massive cock in one slide. He really had a sexual animal on his hands—as well as a sensuous bottom who was beginning to act more aggressively with each fuck. So Anson began to pump, demonstrating the strength of his tennis-toned thighs. After only a few strokes, Jorge called out his impending orgasm. “Fuck me with that big dick. Harder Anson. Deeper. I’m cumming.” So Anson reached under, pulled his balls away and squeezed the root of the penis. Jorge gasped. “Jesu, Maria, y Jose! Don Anson, let me cum, por favor, por favor, senor.”