A gay story: Country Singer Pt. 01 – Encounter I followed a singer on social media a few years ago. He’d had a moderately successful single and was an up and comer, but then he just kind of disappeared. I never unfollowed him on social media when he went quiet, though. I hadn’t heard anything from him until a short while ago.
He’s back, and for some reason, he’s following me back now. He’s a good-looking guy about 5’10”, muscular build, dark black beard with just a few touches of grey in it. He has very beautiful blue eyes. It turns out he’s written some new music and has a new single out. I responded to a few of his postings, he responded to mine. That evolved to direct messaging, and he sent me a copy of his new single. It’s a good sound, not mainstream but not too out there for a country singer either.
Of course, it’s the height of the pandemic and no one is touring right now but I told him I’d love to come see his show, if he ever comes to town. When I first followed him, he was living in Nashville, and I assumed he still lived there. However, he informs me that he moved north and now he’s lives in the same city as me. I didn’t know until we started chatting that he’d relocated – Toronto is, apparently, a hot spot for new music, but I just never think they’re from here – especially as he’s southern and American. He tells me he moved here as he felt this was a hotter market to pursue his music, which I was a bit surprised by, but he says Canadians got his “sound” more than Americans seemed to. Doesn’t make sense to me but I’m not a singer.
We continued chatting back and forth, he’s got a day job doing deliveries and he’s all over the place (but mostly in the west end of the city). He’s quite passionate about his music and spends a lot of his time writing and recording new material. I work from home and am pretty much always at my desk.
We were chatting one day and he mentioned he was dropping off a delivery way to the east of his normal route and he mentioned a plaza that is across from my condo. I said “Really? You’re going there? That’s right at my place.”
So, I suggested that if he was willing we could meet for a socially distanced coffee – around my condo there are at least 1/2 dozen coffee shops (chains and independent).
He agreed and we set a time, turns out he wasn’t even there yet, was still driving across the city.
I paused work, cleaned up (myself) a bit and headed down to meet him.
To say there was a spark is an understatement. You ever meet those people that you just want to rip their clothes off right that second? Well, that was me meeting him. He was dressed in tight, tight, oh so tight jeans, a plaid shirt, open at the neck, which showed a smooth upper chest. He had on a zippered hoody and work boots. And a ball cap turned backwards. I recall a friend of mine making a comment about guys with ball caps turned backwards – they’re all, according to him, advertising that they are ready to give a blow job – hence the brim is in the back.
I seriously doubt this is an actuality, but I still took notice of it and smiled a little. He asked what was funny. Nothing I said, just happy to meet you.
We leaned against his van and chatted for about half an hour, and I said I’d best get back to work and you’ve got a delivery to complete. We said our goodbyes, after exchanging phone numbers and I headed back to the condo and a return to work. Did I imagine it, or did I notice that his tight pants seemed to stretch out in the groin area as we talked? I asked myself, with no clear answer. Must be my imagination I said to myself still my dick hardened at that thought of him getting hard.
Back at work about an hour later, my phone buzzes and I look. It’s a text from Connor. His delivery is complete, and he’s done for the day, he says.
“Want another coffee,” he asks?
“Sure,” I say, “where?”
“Your place” is his answer and I just stare at the text for a few moments before I say absolutely. I give him the exact address then I’m out on the balcony watching for his van to pull into the guest parking.
And within a few minutes we’re sitting on the sofa, a respectable distance between us, sipping coffee. He shed his work boots on entering and he’s sitting with one leg tucked under him, leaning so that he’s facing me. I’m in a similar position. He reaches forward to put his coffee down on the coffee table and in so doing leans a little too far forward. He reaches out a hand and grasps my thigh for balance, and as he sits back up, he’s close to me now and his hand doesn’t leave my thigh.
He takes my coffee and puts it down as well, then leans in and kisses me. His beard slightly rough against my skin, his mustache tickling my lips. I usually wear a full beard but had just chopped it down to scruff, so my stubble is poking into his skin, as we kiss.
His hand slides across my thigh and onto my bulge, my cock was instantly hard when our lips touched and he can feel it inside my pants.
He slowly begins to loosen my pants, unzip my fly and free my hard cock and leaving my lips he takes me into his mouth – ball cap still on backward – maybe my friend is right? The odd things you think about. Then I’m not thinking and his mouth dances to it’s own tune, one he crafted by playing my cock perfectly. A mix of hand, mouth, tongue he blends and meshes the music that makes my cock sing. And soon I’m stopping him before I cum. I want to taste him too.
Pushing him back, I stand him up and strip off his clothes. His body is lean, gym toned, he shaves his chest but the pubes are only trimmed. He has a full chest which is well defined and his abs are flat and firm. His cock is standing proudly and bouncing ever so slightly as his body quivers in anticipation. A little over 6 inches of cut cock waits for my attention, flexing and bouncing pulling his balls up and into him on each flex. They are not the biggest but they full and covered in dark fur.
I kiss him and our tongues dance, then I’m working down his body, licking and biting each nipple, letting my tongue follow his valley down to the prize that awaits.
Now it’s my turn to play an instrument and play I do. His body arches as my mouth closes around him and he thrusts forward, burying himself into my throat. I back off and take control and play him, as well as he played me. We’re both masters of this instrument.
Then as his knees buckle, I ease him to the floor and flip around so that we’re primed to 69, I strip out of the rest of my clothes as we lay on the floor. We’re soon fucking each other’s mouth. He’s the first to cum and his cock spews into my mouth, I pull him out and let him finish on my face and chin, so I can see him cumming, watching his load spit from his cock head. As he came, his mouth let go of my cock but his hand clamped onto it, as if he need to hold onto something as his body shook with his orgasm. But that tight clamp drives me over the edge and I’m spraying shot after shot onto that dark beard, hitting his nose, his eyebrows and the back of his ball cap.
When we’ve both caught out breath we sit up and using our hands and tongues we clean our loads off each other’s faces, ending with a deep kiss, tasting each other. As my hand pushes up and encloses his head, I knock the ball cap off and onto the floor.
We sit naked, as we finish our coffee (our session so intense and so quick they haven’t even gone cold yet), our cocks softening, still dripping the odd drop, which we both feel free to taste, feeding ourselves and each other our post cum dew.
“Shit Doug,” he says, “I needed that.”
“Me too,” I tell him. And lean in to kiss him. I pick his ball cap back up and place it on his head, backwards, and say you may need this again.
He left shortly after but the next day, I had another text from him…