Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Repost: Sunday Football...


This was originally posted in three parts in 2008 and during my big blog clean-out, I removed it.  There are enough new readers here that I feel it worthwhile to post again.  Hope you enjoy.

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Let's cut right to the chase.  I went to visit a friend this weekend, my occasional lunch buddy, Bob.  We watched a little football, looked at a collection of porn (everything from plastic models with big fake boobs having loads of cum sprayed on them, to an assortment of threesome pictures and an occasional chick-with-dick), I sucked his dick until he unloaded down my throat and then he gave me a hand job.
But I suspect you'd like a little detail.  Just as a warning, if you are a visitor who can't handle the the male to male contact stories, time to move on.


You'd have to read previous blog entries about Bob to get the full story, but the gist of it is, we have several mutual friends, ended up working together for several years, and after he and his wife returned to Texas after working several years in another state, he and I occasionally meet for lunch.  During some of theses lunch time conversations, we traded the secrets; I have acted on my bisexual feelings in the past, he has not, but has wanted to.
In the few encounters that I have had and written about here, things were never planned per se.  I haven't made dates or given an invitation to meet for sex.  It was more of a "Hey, you wanna do this? Good, I'll meet you in 20 minutes."  And even then, it was strictly, as they say on places like Craigs List, Blo-n-Go, meaning, neither participant is looking for conversation or trading cooking recipes.

In this case, I had several days to think about it, to mull over it and to then become nervous about it.  How does a girl prepare for the Senior Prom under pressure like this.  You often see the term, "We aren't Ken and Barbie" when couples advertise to meet other couples in swinger ads (Hey, I do a lot of research).  Bob and his wife are Ken and Barbie.  Even in their mid forties, they both draw looks from people watchers and in essence, if they had a prom king and queen at work, this couple would win easily.   My wife and I, not so much.  We aren't ugly people nor does my wife get assigned the BBW term (not that their as anything wrong with that), but my point is, as the years have gone on, we look like your neighbors - could stand to lose a few pounds in all the standard places.

So as I mulled over this for a few days waiting, I began to lower my expectations on what Sunday Football might entail.  I trimmed up my beard, trimmed up my balls and manscaping, and I tried to look presentable.  But it just seemed awkward for me that I was trying to make myself look better for someone - a guy.

Bob's wife was out of town for the weekend, but I never mentioned that to my wife when I said I was going over for football.  When I came downstairs in some older shorts and a football t-shirt, she took one look at me and said, "You're not wearing that - [Bob's wife] will think you are a slob."  I was actually relieved and ran back upstairs and threw on some nicer shorts and a golf shirt.

Bob lives out in the Hill Country about 20 to 25 minutes from my house on a nice ranch.  When I pulled into the long driveway, I could see him on his John Deere finishing up the front yard. He stopped and greeted me and said he was going to take the tractor down to the barn and I could meet him their so he could show me around.  With his faded Levis and a modern Cowboy hat I couldn't help but giggle to myself thoughts of Brokeback Mountain.

When we found ourselves in the house watching football, we sipped on beers and had some nachos.  The talk was half about the football game and half about work he was doing around the house.  Of course we both knew why I was there but for two guys not used to this kind of thing, how do you get started?

It was well into the second quarter when I blurted out, "Got any pictures?"

I laughed and said "Your wife?"  Of course I knew the answer would be no.  But Bob did run into the other room and grabbed a laptop with a thumbdrive full of his collection.  Most of it was stuff I would pass on.  You know, plastic-looking models with perfectly airbrushed skin.  This tends to make someone a little self-conscious, right ladies?

Finally, Bob said he needed to run in and take a shower really quick (since he had been out mowing).  I continued to look through his porn collection and wondered if he was expecting me to walk in and join him. I hate to be a tease, but I honestly have to get to work.  I promise, Part Two (the good stuff), tomorrow.

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Bob left for his master bedroom to take a quick shower while I sat on a couch with a laptop full of porn sitting on a tray table in front of me.  I submit that you can tell a lot about a person by his or her porn collection, and though I was comforted in the fact that he enjoys images of shemales, MMF and pictures of guys sucking themselves - a hint that he is cool with the bi scene, the men and women in his collection were mostly of the supermodel variety.  I couldn't help but feel a little inadequate as I looked down at my well-earned beer belly and occasional varicose vein on my legs.

If I had a porn collection (I tend to just surf the Internet without saving things), you would find people who forgot to stop off at the plastic surgeon's office for a boob job or some lipo.  I can accept that women have a little tummy after years of living and I realize that not every man has a 8 inch dick, in spite of what most stories on the Internet tell us.  But sitting on a friends couch trying to decide if I should strip, or wander into his shower or continue to stare at his perfect porn wasn't made any easier by knowing that I can handle imperfection.

It didn't matter, because Bob walked out of the bedroom wrapped only in a towel.  I was almost shocked at how bold he was.  There was no question that this was about to happen, and instead of me being the aggressor, he had taken matters into his own hands.  My mouth went dry, and I felt my legs begin to go weak.

And then Bob smiled and walked right past the living room and went into his laundry room for something.  By now, I wasn't sure what was going to happen.  The half time show started up, but I couldn't tell you a thing about it.  I was no longer interested in the laptop with the pictures.

I found my bottle of beer and took a long swig and Bob appeared in jeans, no shirt or shoes, and took a seat next to me.  He asked me if I found anything good on the laptop and I just stuttered, uh huh or something unintelligible.  There was no reason for me to be nervous.  I have done this before.  Well, not exactly like this.  Dick in mouth? Check.  But this situation was different.

I turned to Bob and said, "So, what should we do"?  And he said, "I though you wanted to play with me".

That was all it took.  I reached over to his crotch and realized his jeans were already unbuttoned.  He reached down at the same time and unzipped them further revealing a well cropped tuft of blond pubic hair.  I reached for his dick that he had tucked to one side and the fact that he wore no underwear made it easy to pull his dick loose.  He was semi-hard, but as soon as I pulled it free and had my hand around it, he was almost completely erect.

In my mind I had numerous fantasies and game-plans that involved everything from a simple jack-off session to full blown man on man lovemaking with everything from kissing and touching and the whole thing.  But at that moment, it was clear, Bob needed to have his dick sucked, and I was there to do it.

I got up off the couch and knelt between his legs and we both slid his jeans down to his ankles.  As I stroked his hard dick with my thumb and two fingers, trying to get a good feel for him, I asked him if he was okay with this - I didn't want him to regret it later.  He said, "I'm ready" and before he was done saying it, his dick was in my mouth for the first time.   I took in the feel and the smell and the taste of it all.  You expect there to be a man-smell, that musty odor from having your dick trapped in your pants all day, but he had just gotten out of the shower, and it was nothing but smooth, clean skin.  Oh, and the dollop of pre-cum that was immediately gone on my first lick.

I looked up and he had just laid back against the couch.  I stopped sucking and stroked a bit more and I guess I stroked a bit too rough for a moment because he said, easy.  That was it, I went back down on him and tried to get some sort of rhythm going.

After a minute or two, I could feel him moaning and I stopped to tell him that I had wanted to do this to him for several years.  So many missed opportunities.  He said he couldn't possibly concentrate with the football and TV and asked me if I'd like to go to the bedroom.

We got up, me still fully dressed and him lifting up his jeans, and walked into the master bedroom.

And unfortunately, I have to finish this tomorrow.  I promise to get an earlier start.
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I can't tell you the number of times I have had fantasies that involved the bedroom where Bob and his incredibly hot wife make their remarkable Ken and Barbie love.  It has nothing to do with their physical perfection but more about the fact that I admire their relationship.  Who knows? They could be as bland as Archie and Edith Bunker at home, but they come across as a couple you'd like to be involved with.  And it doesn't hurt that they are both easy on the eyes.

I wish I could describe the room, but aside from it looking nice, having a raised bed and Bob pausing to close the stylish curtains on the window, I confess my mind was elsewhere.  We walked to one side and Bob quickly removed the jeans.  He sat on the edge of the bed for just a moment but when I took my place on my knees in front of his still fully engorged cock (that's Internet porn talk), he laid back and closed his eyes.

I couldn't be bothered with wondering what he was thinking about as I worked on his dick.  I rarely try to figure out what is running through my wife's mind and suspect she is little interested in what runs through my mind as we mutually work one another to orgasm, both of us with eyes tightly shut, worlds from our room.  In my mind, I simply wanted to enjoy what I had wanted for a long, long time, and suddenly found in my mouth and in my hands.

Bob is a slender man of over 6 feet.  His uncut dick is probably about 6 inches, and not as thick as mine, but really, he wasn't fucking me, so it wasn't an issue.  My initial nervousness was gone and I cupped his firm ass with my hands momentarily.  For a moment, I wondered if he might enjoy me attempting to tongue his ass.  I let the thought pass (not because I didn't want to try, but because I didn't want to interrupt his obvious enjoyment), and began to softly massage his shaved balls.

In porn flicks, I'm fond of the scene where a woman is eagerly sucking a guy and she looks up at him to show her pleasure in the act.  As a guy, I didn't want to be caught giving my friend that adoring look.  We may have been two guys engaged in sex but there was no reason to make it unnecessarily Gay.  I stole occasional peeks of Bob and he was lost in his own world and I was okay with that.  The physical signals were enough - I could feel his ass tighten and I could see his firm stomach begin to contract.  It made me think of the first time I got a really incredible blow job from a disturbingly ugly woman; she had her finger planted up my ass and I nearly lifted off the sheets as she worked her magic.  And now I was that ugly gal, minus the finger in the ass, large tits and ugly face.

I shouldn't make light of it, but it just proves, a blow job is a blow job as long as it is good.  In a matter of a few - really two maybe three minutes at the most, Bob asked me if I wanted him to cum.  I looked up at him and for really the first time we made eye contact, I said, "Oh, yeah." and with that I was in full suction mode.

Several of the movie clips we had watched from his porn collection involved the lady who jacks off guys for the camera.  In one clip, after the guy had let loose with a thick gooey load, she smiles at the camera then goes down to clean the mess.  We both agreed that was hot.  Bob's collection involves a number of cum shots, either to the face, the tits or on stomach of really heavy cummers.  We both suspected they either saved up for quite a while or were somehow enhanced with special effects.  Now I would find out if Bob had been saving up, and he would find out that his ol' co-worker was not afraid to swallow.

My last encounter with a guy prior to Bob had been with a guy in my neighborhood who lived along my walking route.  That was over a year or two ago.  I can't wait this long between encounters.  When I took the guy's full load in my mouth and swallowed every drop, it was easy and enjoyable, but I felt a little overwhelmed.  This time, I couldn't wait to feel the splash in my throat.  I started to feel Bob's breathing and body contractions and at just the moment I tasted that delicious salty mixture, he moaned with relief.  I continued to suck and lightly stroke him and the load was instantly gone down my throat.  I wondered if he thought of me as some sort of cum dumpster because there was never a gag or hesitation.

I eased up a bit to give him a chance to compose himself and tongued his balls for a few seconds.  At that very moment, I wanted so bad to turn him over and tongue his freshly showered asshole, but I didn't want to mess with his emotional state.

I know all too well the sudden deflation of interest after cumming and If he was ready to slip on his jeans and see me out the door, I was going to be cool with that.  I stood up and let out a giggle and he got up from the bed - the bed where he and his wife have fucked so many times and then he asked me if I wanted to get off.  I told him it was okay that I was fine.  But he persisted and said he'd help me cum.

Now, for the first time I was laying on the bed with my legs on the floor.  Instead of being nude, I simply lowered my shorts to my ankles.  Even then, I felt really awkward.  My dick wasn't even fully erect and Bob awkwardly began to fondle and stroke it.  The emotions of feeling awkward about my physical shape and wondering if in his mind, it was all he could do to force himself out of courtesy to give me a hand job.

Bob played with my dick, changed positions and chuckled, "I have no idea what I'm doing".  That was about all it took and I was suddenly ready.  He stroked more and I whispered, "you're doing great" and he was.

I imagined briefly how hot it would be for his wife to walk in on us, and that was a satisfying thought.  I looked up at him intently working my dick and moving his face slightly closer to the action with each stroke.  I finally said, "Just put the head in your mouth for a second, or you'll regret not doing it later."  He looked at me and said, "I'll regret it later..."

His head moved closer and closer and he continued to stroke.  At the precise moment I felt him rub the head of my dick to his cheek, I let loose with a spurt.  That caught him a little off guard and he lifted up but continued to stroke, causing me to totally unload on his hand and my stomach.  He just said, "Wow!" And then said, "Well, I got as far as my cheek.

Like a good host, he ran for a wash cloth and toweled me down, then let me finish cleaning myself, then took it off to the restroom.  I got dressed and walked into the restroom with him to wash my hands, then we both walked out to the living room.  We sat on separate couches and he had a huge grin on his face which honestly was a big relief.

Bob reached for his beer which was warm by now and and raised it to me, gesturing for a toast. As I grabbed my near empty bottle and raised it, he said, "To a cool way to spend a half time" and we clanged bottles.

We exchanged comments about the game and not long after, I had to get going.  He walked me out and we shook hands and he thanked me for cumming - and we had a good laugh.

How did you spend your Sunday?

2 comments:

monkey girl said...

Very hot. And the fact that you were nervous at first, I think is sweet.

JFBreak said...

I love that feel of nervousness when attempting new things. I guess it is kinda sweet!