A gay story: Meeting Greg It was the late 90s, and I had just turned 18. The internet was a pretty wild, unsupervised place back then. Chat rooms were king, starting with AOL and then moving into IRC and other venue. On AOL, you could enter a chat room and get porn sent directly to your email, it was that simple. And finding people to chat with – especially sexually – was as easy as typing, ‘a/s/l’
I was a shy kid, mainly brought on from emotional abuse from my parents that destroyed my self-confidence which led to being bullied through most of middle school. Most of that had ended by time I reached 18, but there were still remnants of it in my life. One of the more noticeable areas was my highly active online life.
Obviously if my parents knew I was using the internet to have cybersex with other men, they probably would have cut off my access. Shit if my parents knew I was interested in other men. From their language choices, I know my parents wouldn’t have been approved. And culturally, we were just a few months removed from the tragedy of Matthew Shephard.
I didn’t act on any of my sexual urges with another person exactly because of those fears. I could walk to a park that had a highly active, and very well known, cruising scene. But that felt weird and a little scary. I assumed I’d be uncomfortable, and I’d get forced into something I didn’t want to do.
So, talking to men and pretending on the internet was the basis of my experience to date. I started engaging in phone sex with men when no one was around, them listening to me stroke myself while they told me all the nasty things, they’d do with me. Again, most of these ideas scared me a little bit, but it was all part of the pretend. And I was interested, just needed to build up my courage and confidence.
It was a Wednesday night, a bit past 9pm and I needed to log off and take a shower before Seinfeld reruns at 10 and 10:30 then lights out. I was casually browsing a few regular chat channels I frequented at the time, one being an ‘oldermen4boys’ channel. The hourly ‘a/s/l/ auto-post refreshed and I added my details to the chorus of responses, “18/m/St. Louis, MO” when I almost instantly got an instant message:
“Hey neighbor! 46/m/in the central west end”
Interesting. Only one time before had I connected with someone from this channel in my area; we chatted a few nights, but he disappeared. There were a couple of the younger ‘boys’ I would chat with from time to time but had never met any in person. Before I could respond, he typed again:
“What are you up to, tonight?”
“Oh, not much, kind of quiet tonight. Probably signing off soon for the night”
“Aww, sad. I never see anyone from nearby on here, I was hoping to chat.”
“Yeah, I don’t either. I could chat for a little bit, but I’ve got to log off pretty soon”
“That’s ok,” he responded, “could I save your name and message you the next time I see you online?”
Interesting, usually when I try to politely blow someone off here, they get aggressive about not disconnecting. This seemed a little different.
“Sure, sounds great. I’m online a lot” I typed back, and quickly logged off. Even though I didn’t need to, for some reason, I felt like keeping to my story.
I jotted his name down too, and didn’t see him in the chatroom over the next couple days when I popped in. Finally, Sunday afternoon, I logged in and spotted his name in the room. I didn’t message him directly but waited to see if he would first. I clicked over to my email client and before all the email could download – a 56kbps modem was what it was – I heard the ping of an instant message from the chat window. I opened it and saw a flashing notification from my new internet friend.
“Hi again!” it read
“Oh hey” I replied quickly
“Remember chatting with me earlier this week?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Good! I’ve been looking for you but haven’t seen you online since then. I was hoping I would find you again”
“Yeah, just got busy with school stuff and the weekend. I’m in here pretty regularly, don’t change up my screen name or anything”
“Great 🙂 How was your weekend?”
And we went from there. I found out he was 46, grew up in town but left for college and law school. He’s a lawyer – same as my dad which was a little scary to me at the time, I didn’t want to ‘know’ this guy personally – and does a lot of volunteer work that he loves. He spoke in complete sentences and asked me questions about myself and my life that weren’t sexual in nature. Guys in these chat rooms always turned conversation towards sex as fast as they could, but this guy was different. He never brought it up once, not what I was looking for or what my experience with guys was…it was just a conversation about our lives and our interests.
We chatted for almost 2 hours, and it was getting close to dinner, so I told him I had to go. He asked me if I’d like to chat again, and I told him I’d love to! He then asked me my real name which I told him – Michael – and he told me his name was Greg. And he wished me a good night as I logged off.
We chatted online almost daily after that. I wouldn’t see him online before 8 or 9pm, so I started adjusting my online schedule to accommodate his. Eventually I mentioned some of my concerns with ‘dating’ and being ‘out’ in the political climate, and he was very forthcoming with details on how he meets men, what dating as a gay man looks like, etc. And I admitted to him that I’d never been with a man before – I’d never even kissed another one – and I wanted to, I did, but I was scared and nervous at the same time. And he was very understanding, and again, shared his experiences with me as a way of empathizing with my emotions.
It was a couple weeks of daily chatting before he broached the subject of us meeting in public. I was overly excited about the prospect, and got instantly hard when I read the message on my screen from him,
“Would you be interested in meeting in person this weekend? Maybe grab a cup of coffee and just chat in person?”
I couldn’t type my reply back fast enough, but i didn’t want to appear too desperate either. So, I stood up from my chair and paced the room a couple times just to bide some time, before typing back a simple answer,
“Yes.”
We arranged to meet at a coffee shop closer to his house, but with which I was familiar and could easily bail if I needed. We had exchanged a couple of pictures over email, but there I was still concerned I wouldn’t recognize him, so I arrived about 10 minutes early. But as I approached, I saw him sitting outside already waiting for me.
We made eye contact and I smiled and waved a bit, he stood up to meet me and I realized i had never asked him his height, obviously, because he was easily 6’3″ or 6’4″, he towered over my 6’0″ frame. He had broad shoulders and big arms, his hand dwarfed mine when he extended it to shake hands. He had told me he played some college football before injuring his knee, but he must still work out regularly to look like this. He had jet black wavy hair and was wearing a pair of aviators with a button down and slacks. I thought to myself how much I hoped to look like him when I was his age
“Hey, Michael, glad you made it” he said, smiling broadly as we shook hands. “I was really excited to meet you, so I got here early, hope that’s ok?”
“Yeah,” I trailed off, not sure why I’d be upset about him arriving early. “I got here early too so it works out, I guess” shrugging my shoulders a bit. It was quiet on the street, no one passing by and no one sitting at any of the outdoor tables.
“Well, I’m glad to finally meet you in person”
“Me too” I smiled back at him, then looked down a little nervously.
“Do you want to go in and order something?” he asked, and I followed him in to do just that. While this place was closer to his house than mine, I was actually kind of a regular here and knew the woman working behind the counter. We were in the ‘alternative’ area of town, and i spent a lot of days and nights just loitering around this area walking back and forth between the record shop and the various head shops. He was obviously surprised to find out I knew the barista because it was the first thing he mentioned when we were back outside with our drinks.
“So how do you know the owner?”
“Oh, that’s not the owner. Patrick owns the place, he’s usually here during weekdays. That’s Sarah, he usually works nights and I guess weekend days? I don’t usually come down here this early on a weekend.” It was 11am.
“Ohhhh, so you’re a man about the place, huh? Is that why you suggested meeting here?”
“Yeah. I mean i suggested meeting here because I knew it wouldn’t be far from you, and if you didn’t show – or it got weird – I know my way around here pretty well. I didn’t want to meet in a Denny’s or something”
“No, that’s fair’ he said, taking a sip from his cappuccino. “Did you think I wouldn’t show?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know, I haven’t really done this before. I was really nervous walking over here, I even turned around at one point and started walking back to my car”
“I know” he said, reaching over and touching my hand with his. “I was sitting here and watched the whole thing from down the street. I knew it had to be you” he said laughing a little bit.
I felt a little embarrassed and called out here, which he could immediately sense.
“Oh, I thought it was so cute, Michael. I understand why you’d be nervous and scared to meet me, given your history with men. Or lack of history, right?”
I just shrugged; I didn’t know how to respond to that. He was right, of course. But I still felt embarrassed by my inexperience and nervousness. Again, he sensed this immediately and reached across the table to touch my hand again.
“Hey, I’m sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable. That’s not my intention at all. I’m trying to say that I can relate to your feelings, and there’s nothing wrong with expressing these emotions, especially with me. I’ll be a safe person for you to talk with and feel comfortable with, I can do that for you at least.”
I felt something change a little inside me because of those words. There was a sincerity in his voice and coupled with his actions during our chats and today, I believed him. I relaxed a lot after that, I could feel a weight come off my shoulders and our conversation just flowed easily from there. Whereas our online chats were more centered around me, I spent almost the next hour grilling him with questions on his life and interests; why he chose law, what kind of law he practices, why he moved back to St. Louis, his family house down at the lake that “you must come see some time’ and the house in Michigan he’s thinking about buying.
When I asked him for the time, it was nearly 2pm. My stomach was growling and asked him if he wanted to grab a bite to eat. There was more than a dozen restaurants on this street to grab a bite to eat, but when he offered to invite me back to his place, “and I’ll make us something casual,” I couldn’t respond fast enough that, “I’d love to do that,” and we arranged to meet with our cars so I could follow him back to his place.
I didn’t know where this was going, but I had butterflies in my stomach as I followed him the short distance from the coffee shop to his home. And it wasn’t just a house, but one of those three-story old Victorians that are prevalent in the area, the kind of house that makes you think, “who can afford to live in there?” when you drive by.
He pulled in front, and I parked behind him, then followed him up the short flight of stairs and inside. And if I thought the exterior was nice, the interior was like a show room of antique furniture and art pieces. I just stopped in my tracks when I entered the foyer.
“Nice, isn’t it?” he said without really stopping, continuing through the large square space, and heading back towards the kitchen area. I followed behind him into the bright white kitchen with an attached sun porch that looked out onto the backyard. “It was my grandparents’ house, I spent all of my holidays here as a kid. When my grandpa died and we had to put my grandma in assisted living, we wanted to keep the house in the family, and I was the only one really prepared to take on the maintenance costs…so it’s mine now!”
“No way” I said in disbelief.
“Yep, true story. Let me tell you though, the maintenance on this is NOT cheap. These old homes are a pain to heat in the winter and keep cool in the summer. Plus, I only use like three or four rooms total so I have all this wasted space.”
“Still, not a bad deal. This place is amazing” I said, looking out onto the yard and the rows of rose bushes.
“No, certainly not a bad deal. And we still hold family gatherings here so it’s not a total waste. I should put in a pool out back, there’s more than enough space, and I wouldn’t even touch the roses. Trust me, I can’t touch the roses without starting the War of the Roses” he laughed amusingly to himself, as he came along side of me and draped his right arm around my shoulder. He pointed out past the rows of rose bushes to the open lawn and described where the pool could go, the pool house out beyond over in the corner of the lawn. He tried to show me the hot tub and bar area he put in a couple summers ago, but our view was restricted.
“I’ll take you out there later, but now, let’s get lunch started” he declared, turning on his heels and heading around the large kitchen island towards the refrigerator. “What are you hungry for?” he asked over his shoulder.
“Ohh, I don’t know, what do you got?”
“Well, I could whip us up a couple sandwiches pretty quickly if you’re super hungry. I’ve got some tomatoes in here, I could make a little pasta with tomatoes and basil if you’d like, doesn’t look like I’ve got any chicken…”
“Whatever you want to make is fine,” I said a little dismissively. I hate this ring-around of, “do you want this, do you want that?” I really wanted him to just decide something and make it; obviously, I was a little hangry.
“I’ve got some left-over focaccia bread over there. If you help, we can knock out this pasta dish really quick and sit outside on the patio and enjoy it”
“Sure” I said, and he smiled broadly back at me before reaching back into the fridge and pulling out a container of grape tomatoes. “There’s a large pot of basil right outside the back door, can you go out there and pluck me off like 12 big leaves?” he asked as he began to roll-up the sleeves of his button down. He was getting serious. And it was hot.
“Sure thing” I said, bounding across the kitchen to the patio doors. I stepped outside and looked around for the pot, taking in the bar and patio area he was eager to show me earlier. I found the pot of basil – it was not right next to the door like he said – and plucked off ’12 big leaves’ and brought them back inside.
“I’m sorry,” I started, “But the basil is NOT right next to the back door” I said a little bratty.
“Oh, I’m sorry. But you found it, yes?” he said, not looking up from the garlic he was chopping then placing into a pan with olive oil. I set the basil down on the counter in front of him and pulled up a chair to watch him. He was confident with the knife, dicing an onion with ease and adding it to the pan with the garlic. He worked through the tomatoes quickly as well but set them off to the side for later.
“Can you go into the pantry and grab me some pasta? There are a couple different types in there, choose what you think is best.”
“Uhhh, where’s the pantry?” I asked, looking around, but not too hard. He pointed with his knife to a large door off to his left, and I hustled over. When I opened the door, I realized his kitchen pantry was maybe larger than my bedroom at home. How could i even find pasta in here? Oh, there it is, on a shelf in neatly labeled containers. I grabbed the angel hair and brought it over to him. Then pulled up my chair and watched him continue his prep work, noticing in my absence he added a pot of water to the stovetop. The garlic and onions had started sautéing, filling the space with a flavorful aroma that just made me hungrier.
We chatted about this and that, him giving me pointers on some food prep techniques and showing me how he likes to roast tomatoes in a pan just so, then remove them from the heat so they don’t burst in the pan. He asked if I minded adding some mushrooms to the dish – I didn’t – and he had those diced and into the pan before I could get two drinks for us out of the refrigerator. Within minutes he was plating the dish and carrying out two plates to the patio, me opening the door for him with two cans of soda in my hand.
The patio was very spacious, broken into two tiers. We stayed on the top section, under the awning of the house with a large ceiling fan providing a cooling breeze. Off to the left was the new bar area, and further to the left was the hot tub Greg mentioned earlier. I was ravenous and ate very quickly, barely stopping to chat or even take a sip from my drink. The dish was so simple, yet so delicious that I wanted to lick my plate when i was done. Greg probably had a third or more of his dish when I finished mine, and he pushed his plate over offering more. I politely rejected, just mentioning that “I must have been hungrier than I thought” which made us both laugh.
After we were done, I offered to take in our plates while Greg walked over to the bar area to fix himself ‘something a little stiffer’ as he put it. He had taken his shoes off but was still wearing the same button down with the rolled-up sleeves and khakis he was earlier; he looked really hot, and I understood later why George W. Bush was such a big fan of the look. I got back to the table first, and he joined me just a few moments later, a dark brown drink in one hand, and a clear, bubbly drink with a little lime in the other, which he offered to me. I took a sip, wishing/hoping it was vodka or something, but it was plain club soda. He returned to his chair and took a hearty drink from his, polishing off about half of it.
“You’re going to need another one if you keep that up” I said, smiling and putting down my drink.
“I’m a big guy, I take big drinks” he responded in laughter.
“Yeah, what are you like 6’4″ or something? And your arms are huge, is that all from playing football?”
“I’m 6’3″ but thanks for the flattery. And no, I haven’t stayed in shape all these years from playing football 20 years ago. I go to the gym every night on the way home from the office; I’m trying to get the partners to go in for a gym at the office, but no dice yet.”
“Are you a partner?” I inquired.
“Not quite, but I’ll get the offer in the next year or so. The last couple of years have been incredibly good for me and the firm. I didn’t go directly to law school after college, I went out to Colorado to be a ski bum for a few years. Then I took some time off when my grandpa was sick to help out around here, so I’m a little behind where I should be, professionally.”
“Well, that’s alright, you seem to be doing ok for yourself” I said, pointing around to things.
“True. And I’m not married to my job like a lot of other lawyers are.” Shit, he must know my dad. “I work enough to live my life; I had this case kind of fall into my lap a couple years ago that I won a huge settlement on which attracted some other plaintiffs and we put together a class action which is just about to settle. Once that hits, they’ll make me partner for sure, it’ll probably be the biggest settlement the firm has ever won.”
“Woah, that’s awesome” and it truly was, that had to be an amazing feeling for him, professionally.
“So yeah, I’ll settle this case, make partner this summer, buy a house up in Michigan as a treat to myself” he trailed off, then picked up his drink and finished it in one big gulp. Without saying anything he got up and fixed himself another one, returning quickly with just the one drink this time. He gave a little raised-glass cheers and we both took a sip of our drinks.
“Do you want to see the rest of the house?” he offered, and intrigued by this mansion, I agreed. We rose out of our chairs, and I followed him back into the kitchen and through back out into the central foyer where the tour began. He motioned me towards the main seating area and took my hand in his, leading the way. He was describing something in the room, pointing with his drink-laden hand, but I was too overcome by the thoughts and emotions swirling in my head about us holding hands to take any of it in. He talked a little more, and then led me out and across the foyer to the main living room – how is this different from the seating area? – and then into the 16-chair formal dining room and through an almost hidden door back into the kitchen. He was talking something about ‘former doors and hallways for servants’ use’ while I was looking at his side profile, studying his carefully shaved face, the side profile of his nose, looking down at the clothes he was wearing. From this distance, I could really smell him for the first time; he smelled earthy, like a bit of sawdust and something else I couldn’t place. He asked me, “upstairs or down,” and i chose ‘down’ so we descended a circular staircase in the corner of the kitchen and found ourselves in a gigantic, adult playroom filled with a pool table, foosball table, arcade games, an actual projection screen tv…
“Woah, this is awesome!” i said, not trying to contain my excitement.
“Yeah, my grandpa started this, this was more of like a workbench area over here but that’s his old pool table and card table over there. I did a little remodeling when I first moved in to make it a more usable space”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a tv that big before” I said. He picked up the remote, pointed it to the projector and turned it on. In a moment, displayed all across the back wall, was a shot of a young man kneeling before an older one giving him head.
“Oh shit” Greg yelled, fumbling around with the remote trying to change the channel, but it was a video and all we saw was the camera angle change to a side shot, where we saw the older man’s thick cock in closeup, entering and exiting the younger man’s mouth and he thrust his hips. The man on screen was much older than Greg, he had a full head of white hair, and even his pubic has was white. I had never seen that before, and honestly was a little mesmerized by what was on the screen, so I reached out with my hand and touched Greg’s arm, said, “no, leave it” and stood there, my mouth slightly open, watching the scene unfold before me.
Greg moved a little closer to me, took my hand in his for a minute, then removed it and put his arm around my waist, pulling him in close next to him Between his touch and the visuals on screen, I was simultaneously rock hard, but also completely parched and dry mouth. I took a sip of my club soda as Greg leaned in and whispered in my ear, “do you want to sit down?” I nodded just a bit, and he grabbed me by the hand, led me around the couch and we flopped into the corner of the sectional together. He raised his arm and let me snuggle next to him while we watched the show, my hands resting on his thighs.
The scene on screen didn’t change much, more of the same of the older man mouth fucking the younger guy. Sometimes he’d squeeze the older man’s balls, and sometimes they’d slow down, switch camera angles. But this was a scene that was going to play out for a while it seemed.
I snuggled my nose up into Greg’s neck and took in his masculine scent, sawdust, and something else, a little sweeter underneath. I rubbed his chest a little bit with my left hand and looked up at him, he adjusted his neck a bit so he we could make eye contact. I smiled a bit, and he returned one larger than the one I gave him. I returned my hand back to his thigh but bumped his cock with my wrist on the way down.
“Oops” I said more out of instinct than anything. He adjusted in his seat, pushing his erection down in his pants.
“Sorry about that,” he said, adjusting back into his seat, “this film is pretty hot, and I like you snuggled up next to me.” I smiled at what I took was a compliment. “What do you think about this?”
“Uhh, yeah.” I was looking for words, “it’s pretty interesting. I guess I missed the plot build-up that led to this” I gestured toward the screen, the younger man now lain prone on a bed, his head dangling over the edge while the older man fed him his cock from above. They did an overhead shot and focused on the younger guy’s gigantic cock…when you read tales of, “his cock was as big as a soda can,” this is what they have in mind. I’m not even sure he was fully erect, it looked like a soft log just laying alongside his thigh. I had to gulp a little bit, and my cock twitched in excitement. Greg jumped in to fill me in, “The kid was delivering a package to the older man, he invited him in, and I think you’re up to speed” he laughed. “Not a lot of plot in this one, but that kid has a great cock, doesn’t he? Fuck…in a minute here the old man is going to climb on top and they’re going to 69 before the kid pounds his ass. It’s really hot”
I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I finished the rest of my club soda and leaned forward to place it on the table. Greg adjusted his arms to let me in, and as I returned, his arm encircled me, welcoming back into grasp. As I turned in, my erection poked him in the thigh.”
“Oh, are you liking the movie, too?” he asked, looking me in the eyes and smiling. I couldn’t look away from his dark, black eyes, they were sucking me in. He kept smiling and reached down and grabbed my cock through my shorts. “Mmm” he followed, “that feels nice”
I held his gaze while he squeezed my cock a few times, thinking of the right thing to say. “I’m enjoying the company more than the movie,” I finally got out. The broad smile across his face convinced me I picked a good line
“Me too, Michael. I haven’t felt a connection like this with someone in a long time. You’re a special young man, and if you want things to stop here, I’m fine with that.” He still held my cock tightly and continued. “I would completely understand. And we could still be friends. But you’re really turning me on right now, so we have to make a choice: you can get up and leave and we stay friends, or you stay here with me, and I show you a thing or two I can do with this big cock” and he gave it another strong squeeze.
Oh god. I was sooo turned on by this guy, this guy possibly old enough to be my dad? I don’t know, all the blood in my body was flowing towards my cock, I didn’t have the brain capacity to do that math. But what I did know, was that he smelled amazing. And he was very handsome, and when I jerked off to pictures of older men, it looked just like him. He was such a great guy to chat with, and today had been so great, and God did he smell good…”
“What do you say?” he asked, and I slightly nodded my head in the affirmative as, now, a gigantic grin overtook his face. “Come on,” he motioned me in again, “let’s watch a little more of the movie” and sure enough, the older man was now on top of the younger one and we enjoyed a close up shot of him slobbering over the younger man’s club of a cock. Greg unbuttoned his shirt a bit, and I started slowly running my hands through his chest hair. There was a lot of it, and I bet it was as dark as the hair on his head. I hadn’t grown hair on my chest yet so probably everyone had ‘a lot’ to my touch
His hands roamed my body more freely now, one more restricted to my hair while his right started moving up my shirt, moving across my abs and up to my left nipple which he twisted with two of his fingers. I didn’t realize until then how much I enjoyed having my nipples played with. His touch continued across my chest and abs and started moving inside the waistband of my shorts. They were a little too tight for him to reach in, so he expertly unsnapped the button and continued his journey southward. “You don’t have a lot of pubic hair, huh?” he asked. Not judgmentally, just more matter of fact.
“No,” I barely got out, my mouth was so dry, “No, I don’t have a lot of hair.”
“That’s ok, you’ll get there in time. Nothing to be worried about. Will you stand up for me, please?” I looked up at the screen as I rose, and the scene had changed again. Now, the older man was on all fours on the bed, the younger man kneeling in front of him feeding him his large cock. I don’t know how the old man was maintaining his balance, maybe the force of the kid face fucking him kept him in place? Now a close-up of the older man’s ass, I can see where this is going. I turned to face Greg on the coach, he looked so hot with his shirt now untucked, half-unbuttoned with his chest hair visible underneath.
“Take your shirt off” he requested, reaching behind him, and picking up his drink off a table behind the coach I didn’t realize was there. I quickly lifted my shirt over my head and stood there for his inspection. He sipped his drink and looked me over lustfully. “Nice body, soccer keeps you in good shape.” I didn’t talk about soccer with him that much, I couldn’t believe he remembered that. “Thanks,” i replied, just standing there exposed in front of him.
We stood there like that for a while, him sipping his drink and looking me over. I could hear the older man grunting now, it was clear the scene had changed again, and he was taking that kid’s large cock in his ass now. I saw Greg look past me once or twice to take in the scene, before returning his gaze to my eyes. I knew his next statement was coming, but he drew it out so long that it was driving me crazy.
“Take your pants off, too, Michael.” This was it. I had never been naked with another person before, at least in a sexual manner. And here I was, no going back from here. I wanted to make this man happy. I didn’t ask for clarification, I reached my thumbs directly into my briefs and pulled down both sets of shorts in one motion, bending my knees and stepping out of them. I stood up for him to take me in, a little awkwardly resting my arms by my side. His eyes lit up huge and he finished his drink, returning it to the unseen table behind the coach. He rubbed his hands together a bit and readjusted his position in the couch. All the time not breaking eye contact with me, but also not saying anything to me either. Self-consciously I started covering my erect penis with my hands, but he shook his head ‘no,’ so I clasped them together behind my back, leaving my 18-year-old body completely exposed to this hungry 46-year-old stud. I was so turned on my cock twitched involuntarily. Greg just kept smiling at me, and then repositioned himself again so he was sitting more upward in the couch, leaning forward a bit. He motioned me to come closer, then raised his hand for me to stop about a foot away from where he was sitting. I returned my hands to behind my back, and he studied my cock and balls with his eyes. Then he reached forward with his right hand and cupped my ball sack, squeezing and tugging on them.
“Ohh, shit” I said, and started to lose my balance. He took his hands off my ballsack and put it on my hard abs, my breath intensifying so quickly i was breathing heavy now, his hand moving up and down on my stomach. “Settle down,” he said softly, “It’s ok. Just move your feed a little bit and get a wider base,” which I did, and for my compliance, he returned his hand to my ballsack which he continued to squeeze and tug. I was oozing precome out of my hole, and he snaked his tongue forward and licked it off the tip of my cock head. I lunged my hips forward, eager for more of his touch while he pulled back and laughed a little bit amusingly to himself. Then in one quick motion he devoured half of my cock in his mouth.
“Ohhhhhh fuuuucccckkk” was all I could say as Greg began to swirl his tongue around the sensitive underside of my cock head, squeezing my balls and now bobbing up and down my cock head before grasping me tightly with his left hand and impaling his mouth on as much of my cock as he could. I wasn’t going to last long, and he knew that, he could feel the orgasm building in my ball sack. He took his mouth off my cock and leaned back a bit.
“I think we should change spots; you’re going to blow a huge load down my throat, and I want to make sure we’re both comfortable for that.” I was in a daze, so he stood up and guided me down into this position on the couch, never letting going of my cock in the process. He was on his knees before me as quickly as I could get seated, and his mouth was back on my cock immediately, his hand pumping the base while his tongue ran circles over my cockhead. He was right, I wasn’t going to last long. I tried to tell him I was going to come, but that just caused him to move his tongue faster along the underside of my cock and I exploded into this mouth, the strongest, most powerful orgasm I’d ever had. I tried to rise out of my seat the feeling was so intense, but Greg’s strong arms kept me pinned down while he used his hand to pump the remaining come out of my balls. I fell back into the couch spent, and he took a moment to lick and clean-up the remaining come oozing from my cock. I looked on the screen and it was now two older men spit roasting a younger guy, none of the same actors from the last scene. I looked back down at Greg, and he was sitting on his knees smiling at me, wiping the remains of my come off his lips.
“Thanks,” he said, “you have an amazing cock.” And he stood up. “I’m going to go get myself a drink, you want to come?” he asked.
“Uhh, sure” I said, looking around for my clothes as he was making his way around the couch to pick up his empty glass. “Keep your clothes off if you don’t mind. I’d like to watch you walk around here naked” and offered me the opportunity to walk in front of him, up the stairs and into his great kitchen. He came up behind me and playfully slapped my ass.
“Come on, cutie, let’s sit outside” as he opened the patio doors, and I followed behind naked.