Based on the true experience of a married bisexual man
By Billy Jay Dee
E-mail to my friend, Jay:
Life is hard here on the campus. Last night I had a date with John, the 6'4" 320-pound president of the local bear club. We were supposed to meet last Wednesday. He cancelled. I didn't wait the extra 35 minutes last night and he cancelled again tonight.
So, I hit the door, hopped the first bus and went "downtown". If my wife asks, it's to eat at the "Pantry," a historic greasy spoon that operates on a cash-only basis and you have to wait in line. They served a lot of food (it tastes like it) but that was good because I was actually hungry for the first time since getting to this hot land. Then, of course, I jumped the subway for the Faultline.
A Tuesday night. I didn't expect much. There were no more than two dozen guys in the place. The bad news was most of them were really interested in their pool tournament. I made the rounds. Some twinks sat at the bar being loud. Several guys sat apart in the dark recesses of the joint, making it hard to strike up a conversation.
Three guys also sat separately at the bar, all too short for my taste. One guy played pinball. I tried to strike up conversations with some of the bigger gentleman and finally talked off and on with a big Mexican. I won't say he was particularly short on brains, but he sure had a hard time figuring out how to light his cigarette. He didn't seem particularly gay, either.
I looked up from a rather forced attempt at conversation and found the pinball man had stepped away from the machine. He was fifty, maybe. A grecian beard, solid frame and hairy arms.
As he spoke to a regular from the darkened corners, I chatted offhandedly with the slow Mexican. Pinball Man and I smiled at one another. I excused myself and found a stool closer to him; he wandered closer to me. He was charming with the sweetest smile and the bluest eyes.
He introduced himself as Scott. Sparks flew. On the way to my hotel room, Scott and I discussed the details of our evening. Once in the room, I found the phone blinking. He hit the head while I checked to see if it was a message from my wife. It was a message from my date, who had shown up late. Too bad he missed a fun evening.
Scott kissed me passionately when he returned from the bathroom. I managed to pull the golf shirt off his chest. This revealed the small hairy rounded belly and equally as rounded and hairy biceps. He finished unbuttoning my royal blue dress shirt while his small pink tongue and the soft bristles of his moustache tickled my nipples. He tried to pull my shirt off, but those damn buttoned cuffs...
"We can dispense with this stuff," he suggested.
While I finished stripping, he stripped the bed. I sprawled out across the queen-sized mattress to reveal the "lovemaking aids" in the bedstand. I rose up in his arms. He rolled me back into bed on my back. We rolled and kissed, made out and reached for one another's dicks.
He had a smooth slightly curving eight-incher, not too thick. He softly rubbed his hairy body up and down my smooth, nearly hairless torso. My crotch surged with electrical response. I raised my head to suck his cock and he crawled over me to give me more of it. Eventually he worked his way down and ended kneeling between my knees. He reached for some KY, and stroked himself while working over my flaccid six-incher with the velvety lotion.
"Here," he said with a smile. (Did I tell you he smiled a lot?) "Unroll the condom."
He slipped the rubber on his big-headed erection and hefted my knees. As he pressed the slippery helmet against my puckered ass, he said: "We'll just let it rest there for a while."
Then his pinkish lips surrounded by his bearded chin met mine again and we kissed with exploring tongues. I ached for it, for that fat hard cock to slide into my sweaty love tunnel. And when my rolling ass made it far too clear of my need, Scottie obliged. He fucked me carefully and for a long time. Even when I encouraged him to bang my ass, he still took the deep strokes with care. He was a consummate fucker, pulling his prick slowly out and then rotating his ass on the downstroke so that the fat head grazed my prostate in agonizing slow motion.
"One more thing we could do."
He grabbed the top side of my thighs, holding my bottom tight to his hard cock and began scooting on his knees to the side of the bed. I tried to help move my sloppy bottom around, but basically he dragged me to the edge of the bed like a bitch dog connected to a love knot. He got his feet to the ground.
Lifting my feet in the air, he really began banging me, until the enthusiasm overwhelmed him. His slippery cock popped all the way out on a back stroke and he cursed to himself as he stumbled against the wall. He excused himself. Returning from a quick trip to the bathroom, he straddled me and suggested we jerk off since he had to remove the condom to piss. As he moved over me, he scooted closer to my face, one knee on the bed, the over leg spanning my belly. The excitement was getting to me. I grabbed my throbbing, aching pecker and stroked it rapidly.
"Ohhhh, ah, cumming," I sputtered and let loose a simple wad that flowed down over my cock onto my balls. The sight and sound of my orgasm apparently got to him. He tensed, squeezing with his thumb and forefinger in back of his swollen, purple cockhead. "Yeah, now, ohhhh." He went into a loud, grunting spasm and he blew his load in several sharp spurts onto my chest and belly.
Scott collapsed beside me, apologizing for the noise he'd had to stifle. "Operatically trained, you know. Can't let loose or we'd wake up the whole hotel."
Have to head for class now. Hope you enjoyed this brief account. It got me hard again. Hahahahaha.
Love, Billy