Queens Row 2
by Bald Hairy Man.
This is and adult gay story for adult gay men. I this offends you, DON"T read it. This is a fantasy not a sex manual. Play safe.
I'm fifty now. I had been a good-looking boy, almost pretty. The combination of boyish charm and a strong work ethic made me a success. Most of my friends were like me. We were talented, attractive, hard-working men and we all became successful.
Through the years I had several live in lovers. All were pretty boys. All grew up and left. By the time I was in my forties, I realized some boys looked at me as a sugar Daddy. I liked young men, but I was a hard worker, and I surely didn't like being used as a meal ticket. I try to stay young, but by the time I was forty-five I realized I wasn't working. I saw a sixty-year-old friend with died, hair, one too many facelifts and wearing clothes suited for a teenager. I didn't want to look pathetic.
My sex life began to dry up. Some old friends would drop by periodically, but it seemed my sex life was entering the golden years. Young men tend to like young men, and I wasn't young anymore. It seemed most of the gay community had a cult of youth, and I wasn't young anymore.
Fortunately I'm a workaholic and I still had my work. My business was good, but I had to stay on top of things. It's easy to get stale. To keep my customers I needed to give them new, fresh things. I also got into event planning and linked up with a caterer. This is a high stress and demanding job and I was good at it. The work filled in the gap vacated by my sex life.
My chance meeting with Bruno was a shock. I had thought intense sex was a thing of the past. I had forgotten how good sex could be, but truthfully sex with Bruno and later Buddy was better than I had experienced before. I had never been interested in "rough trade." I remember friends joking about gorillas and hair balls.
I'd never sucked an uncut cock before. I certainly had never had sex with an automobile mechanic. My sex life was starting form scratch. It was as if I was a teenager again. Sex was all new, exciting and intense.
Actually the sex had been so good, it was close to being a new experience for me. It was as if I had been watching a black and white television and switched to a wide screen HDTV with surround sound. They were both televisions, but the experience was a contrast between night and day.
A few days later I was at a restaurant waiting for a table. Bill Mills was sitting at a table alone and waved me over. "I'd be glad to share a table," he said. I joined him. Reverend William Mills was the pastor of a big church n Monument Avenue. I had done many weddings there. He had clear ideas about the role of flowers in a church and we had a run in at the first wedding I did there. I did what he wanted and it turned out well, and we got along after that.
His wife had died two years earlier and I did the flowers at the funeral for him. She was a sweet woman and I had done many arrangements for her during her illness. Bill told me she looked forward to flowers from my shop. Bill was ten years older than I. He was an avid hiker and was grizzled looking with a deep tan and an unruly, gray beard. Bill was definitely not one of the TV type preachers with every hair glued in place by hair spray. We talked about weddings and mothers of the bride.
He was always diplomatic and calming, I hadn't realized he knew they were as wacky as they were. Bill also had a dry sense of humor I had never experienced before. We ordered a bottle of wine and had a good dinner.
I'm active in gay affairs and that didn't bother him. He was a `love your neighbor' preacher, not a hell and brimstone ranter. "I'm sure some of those men are sincere," he said, "but I get really uncomfortable when men speak for God. I may think I'm close to God, but we don't go to the same hairdresser."
I laughed. "Some seem to be defined by what they hate rather than what they love," I said. "I may be cynical, but hate is better for the offering plate."
"I have suspicions about that myself," Bill admitted. "I just retired two weeks ago, so I'm out of the business. It does seem to me there are some odd theological ideas in the air now."
"Am I wrong in thinking the born agains are only worried about sexual morality? " I asked. "There doesn't seem to be too much concern about anything else."
"That's the way it looks to me, I'm afraid," Bill said. "I have to admit when anyone in business tells me he's a Christian, I check my wallet." As it turned out, Bill and I thought about the same on many issues. A heavy rain storm broke out as we left. I had walked to the restaurant, so Bill gave me a drive home.
I asked him in. He came in saying he had heard about my house and wanted to see it. I showed him around and he liked it. He knew antique furniture and was able to see beyond the floral decoration. It was rare that I ran into anyone as knowledgeable as he.
I asked if he'd like to see the bath. "I sure would," he replied. "It's almost mythical. I heard it was one of the seven wonders of the modern world. Elisabeth saw it when your house was on the Christmas tour. They made a bucketful of money on that tour." We went up to my bedroom. I flipped on the lights and the water fall. Bill burst into laughter.
"It's wonderful," he exclaimed. "Elizabeth said it was a wonder. She didn't get enthusiastic often, but she bugged me about getting a Jacuzzi for weeks afterward. As you can guess, the Session wasn't too interested in the Jacuzzi. We didn't get it. To this day, I've never been in one."
I flipped a switch and the whirlpool started. "Be my guest," I said.
"Are you serious?" Bill asked.
"Sure, it's a bath. That's what it's for," I replied. "I'll join you." Bill smiled and began unbuttoning his shirt. Bill wasn't handsome and he wasn't at all young. His body would be best be described as shaggy. For a sixty-year-old man he was in good shape, but he wasn't pretty. His cock was cut and stubby, but the minister had big, goat-like balls. The water was great and we sat in the moving water relaxing.
"I'm afraid I'm a hair ball," Bill said. "I'd hate to clog up the drains."
"I wouldn't worry about that," I replied. "I noticed you weren't asked to star opposite to Annette in the Beach blanket movies."
Bill laughed. "I was never sleek and smooth even as a teenager. Fortunately, I was never much into a body image," he remarked. "I was the intellectual type, it was considered to be odd to go hiking. Driving in circles in your father's car around the drive-in twas the height of style."
"You're in good shape now," I said. "I'll bet the drive-in cruisers are in poor shape now."
"Well, if you're a hair ball at eighteen, but the time you're sixty you're hairier and much more ball like!" Bill said. He was good natured, and I suspected he hadn't missed being a beach bunny.
"I think I'm beginning to cook," Bill remarked. He stood up and sat on the edge of the pool. The warm temperature relaxed his ball sack and they hung almost to his knees. His cock was at half mast and looked good enough to eat. I don't know what got into me, but I leaned over and licked his cock head.
I expected him to jump up and leave. He just sat there and got harder. I took a breather and looked up at him. "I got carried away," I murmured.
"I had no idea what it would feel like," Bill said. "It's nice, really nice." He looked me in the eye and smiled. "You don't have to stop," he added. I returned to his cock with enthusiasm. A minute or two later he shot off. Warm cream flooded my mouth. I swallowed, then swallowed again. It slowed up, then there was a third flood. I didn't know a man could have that much cum stored in his balls.
"Sorry about that," Bill said. "It's been a while." I milked the last drops from his cock and got up. "What am I supposed to do?" he asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Am I supposed to suck you?"
I smiled. "There are no rules I can think of," I said. "After I shoot off, I'm worthless for a while. You must be feeling really good?"
"That's an understatement," Bill said. "I'd forgotten sex could be that good. It's been a long dry spell."
"It's funny, but I seemed to be coming out of a dry spell myself," I said. "My sex life is warming up."
"To tell you the truth, it's nice to have sex with someone who doesn't want to get married," Bill said. "As a 60-year-old widower is a like being raw meat in a pirana pool."
"The widows are circling?" I asked. "Don't worry, I don't want to get married even if it wasn't against the law. I like no strings sex. Plain, old-fashioned enjoyment without designs on your retirement pension." We talked for another half hour and Bill went home. I told him to drop in again, but didn't think he would.
Three days later Bill called me and asked if he could come by that evening. I said sure. He sounded uneasy, and I was afraid he was feeling guilty. A friend of mine had a similar experience with a Baptist minister. A few days after a night of great sex, the minister became worried about sin and he tried to convert my friend to hetro sexuality.
Bill rang the bell at eight and I asked him in and offered him a drink. He asked if I had wine, so we sat down with a glass of Burgundy. "I'm sorry to drop in on you, but I can't get our experience of a few days ago out of my head," he said. "I can't remember when I had enjoyed anything so much. It was just that I enjoyed it. I was so comfortable. I like sex, but had no idea sex with another man could be so good."
"I'm glad you liked it," I said, then I told him about my fears with respect him.
He smiled. "For the life of me, I can't figure out who sex between to adults can be that bad," Bill said. "I know there are users, but I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself. Somehow, I don't think you're a sexual predator preying on retired preachers." I smiled at the image. His glass was empty and I refilled it.
"I was feeling some guilt," he continued. "I let you do all the work. I've always liked sex to be reciprocal, and I left you hanging. I didn't think I could suck you then. The more I think about it, the better it seemed. I was afraid, but I'm not afraid anymore." Before I had a chance to reply, the door bell rang.
It was Bruno with a bottle of Scotch, very good Scotch. "I wanted to thank you for helping me the other day," he said as he handed me the bottle.
"Come on in," I said. "I'm just talking with a friend." He came in and we went to the kitchen. I introduced Bruno to Bill. You don't get to see love at first sight often, but when Bruno saw Bill and Bruno, that's what saw. There was instant attraction. As we talked, it was clear opposites attract. Bill was well educated and cultured, Bruno was a graduate of the school of hard knocks, but they clicked.
As they talked, I realized they had similar personalities. We opened the Scotch and had a toast. We told Bill about the accident. He knew the older man involved. He was a member of his congregation and Bill said he was never in the wrong. "I think Jesus is the only man to be as near-perfect as John Adamson. He's a character," Bill said.
"Does he run into people often?" Bruno asked.
"Now that you mention it, he does have accidents," Bill said. "Never his fault, you know. It's a joke in the congregation. He ran into a school bus once. It was painted the wrong shade of yellow." We laughed. The conversation was easy. We dented the Scotch and I suggested we retire to the whirlpool. Both men were more than willing.
When I got into the pool both Bruno and Bill were well on the way to being erect. I sat beside Bill and when I fondled him, I felt Bruno's hand. Bruno stood and Bill began to suck his cock. Whatever concerns he had about cock sucking had vanished.
I stood too, and Bill licked my cock too. He alternated between us in almost a frenzy. He seemed more than enthusiastic. We got out of the pool and went to my bedroom. There we formed a small daisy ring on the bed, linked mouth to cock. I sucked Bill as he sucked Bruno and Bruno took care of me.
What followed was an hour and a half of sexual exploration. While Bill was new to it, I felt much the same as he did. It was new to me. They weren't my type. Neither man was conventionally handsome. They were beefy, hairy men, the polar opposites of the men I had been with for the previous thirty years.
Sex was always exciting and intense for me, but this was my first experience of friendly sex. I think in the back of my mind I had been looking for Mr. Right. I evaluated men as potential life partners or realized they were one night stands. Once I was successful, I was worried about my partners' intentions. Sex and suspicion are a bad combination.
With Bruno and Bill suspected no ulterior motive. It was pure, recreational sex. Neither was Mr. Right and neither wanted anything more than physical enjoyment. While Bill was inexperienced, he wasn't shy and he was willing to try anything.
As Bruno sucked me, he worked a finger into my ass. His stubby finger pressed and prodded my prostate as his lips caressed my cock. It left me shivering in pleasure. We switched playmates, I sucker Bruno as he sucked Bill and Bill took care of me.
Bill moaned and I realized Bruno was fingering his ass. Bruno's fingers had the same effect on him as they did on me. I was surprised when Bill tentatively poked his finger in my ass. He searched around, then found my prostate. I moaned when he pressed it. We seemed to share the same sensitivities. Now we were connected mouth to mouth and finger to prostate. I would squeeze Bruno's, then he would push Bill's nut and Bill would poke my button. Each time we did this, the feelings intensified.
Coordination is difficult, but I was convinced we were each at the same state of arousal. Bruno broke the ring.
"Damn it, I need a cock in my ass," he cried. " Now!"
"Do you want to help him out, Bill?" I asked.
"I don't know . . ." he started to say. He was silent for a few seconds. Bill smiled. "Well, if it's helping a friend in need." I got the lubricant from the side table. Coating his cock, Bill was ready to go.
"Force it in," Bruno said. "It takes some effort." Bill did exactly as Bruno ordered. Bill's genitals were mostly balls and cock head. His cock head had seemed good sized, but not exceptional when I sucked him earlier in the week. When it was aimed at Bruno's ass, it seemed huge, bloated to the point of exploding. It vanished in a quick thrust and Bruno growled in approval. After a dozen or so thrusts, Bill popped. He tried to pull out as he ejaculated, but Bruno wouldn't let him.
When Bill finally withdrew, I stepped up to the plate. Bill had opened Bruno's ass. My cock slid in easily on a sea of lubricant and cum. I remembered Bill's orgasm and the flood of men seed in my mouth. He must have shot an equally big load in Bruno's hole.
My cock went way deep. I had never used another man's cum as lubricant before, but I can recommend it. Bruno's ass was just as tight, but my cock was like a piston in a finely machined engine. There was no room to spare, but the fit was perfect. Bill's extra sperm squeezed out between the hole and my shaft.
Bruno and I shot off together. Bill watched. "Is it always this good?" he asked.
"It's good, but not always this good," Bruno muttered. "This is a prize winner."