It’s hard to focus on a single theme or learning experience for this post because it can go in several directions. So I’ll just tell the story.
Young Lion, the confident, brash chap mentioned in the previous post, ramped up his campaign of attention and lustful ideas. He was like a self-generating metabolic system that every time he sent a sexually-charged message, he’d ruminate the possibilities and return with greater intensity to the point of begging to meet as his erection was about to topple him. Few things turn me off more quickly than the first whiffs of desperation and I sent him away with instructions to wank until he had calmed down. His mid-twenties supply of inexhaustible testosterone and concept that no hour on a week night was too late to meet made me hardened and protective of my own limited energy reserves — I was jealous of his youth and punished him by ignoring his pleas.
But he bounced back the following day and I was glad of the resilience that equalled his sex drive. We met a day earlier than planned as I had resigned from my job that morning and was in a possibly manic see-saw mood of being inspired by my own bravery and terrified by the potential stupidity of my decision. I know, I’ll go and distract myself to avoid reality and worry about it tomorrow!
He told me the time he was leaving the city and I nominated a suburb halfway to meet that was near a park in case we wanted to continue in his car. He asked which train line the suburb was on. Pardon? I told him he was insane because my car was far too small for any kind of shenanigans, the night was pissing rain and blowing gale force winds and our options were limited to almost nothing — let’s re-schedule. He wrote back and said he was already on a train and coming to see me.
And off I went to collect my young man from the station. He was shorter, skinnier and possessed less refined features than his profile photos indicated, but I grinned when I introduced myself because his cocksureness was accompanied with a lovely vulnerability when I saw him standing nervously with his eyes wide and a trembling smile on his lips. He also didn’t run in fright as I had forgotten to remove my glasses, hat, gloves and several layers of clothing more suited to trampling through snow than impressing strangers. I must have got something right in my current profile because — apart from the lack of availability of most I have encountered this campaign — I’ve consistently met attractive, smart and tempting men who find my oddness somewhat touching.
I led him to my car and he agreed that its diminutive dimensions made anything but driving next to impossible. I told him that exaggeration is not one of my personality traits and we hit the road because we agreed that discovering more about each other would be a good thing. I found a marina car park and we took a walk but the howling wind and salt water sprays sent us fleeing for shelter. We ended up driving along the foreshore and past sports grounds for 40 kilometres looking for a secluded space but the municipality had been diligent in locking and gating its private places. I drove to the last suburb I was prepared to scope (and with a safe train station where I planned dropping him afterwards) and I pulled up in a beachside car park.
We kissed a while and with the frustration of the sexually curtailed I cursed the lack of space, the weather, being convinced to be so rash tonight, why the fuck did I quit my job without a plan? the lack of facilities — what on earth do gay men do for beats around here? I told him to remove his pants and he slid them around his ankles, waiting a few moments so I could fully absorb the view of his pristinely white, body-hugging trunks. He said previously he was gifted in that department and I took his comment lightly — I did the numbers and convinced myself that I would have seen more erect penises than he and I’d be the judge of that.
I could only approach his groin sideways with the driver’s side door open and my legs and backside hanging unglamorously out of the car. And this is when I learned that he wasn’t prone to exaggeration either. At a guess I’d say he had the thickest shaft I’ve encountered in real life or the movies. His cock was wider rather than tall and my mouth was angled from the side and taller rather than wide and I had a hell of a time fitting much in. He pushed my head a little and I stopped him as my lips were so stretched I feared my teeth were exposed. I alternated between masturbating him, trying to suck his cock and licking his shaft and balls. To relieve jaw ache I asked him to masturbate and come in my mouth and he obliged. His physical gift was less sweet on the inside and he spurted jets of hot, thin, sour fluid that scrunched my face and made me beg for a one-swallow finish.
I drove him to the station and we kissed goodbye on the cheeks. He avoided my lips as my mouth was scented with his semen. To be frank, I understood as I gobbled a handful of mints as soon as he left.
Before we parted, I indulged my curiosity and asked if he lived at home. Of course he did. I withheld the urge to ask if his parents would worry about his whereabouts so late on a week night.
I don’t know what’s next. He said it was my turn to organise the next meeting (did I not do enough for this one?) and I can’t decide whether to start corrupting him or walk away because there’s too much effort and logistics involved. He’s verging on being too narrow minded in several activities he won’t consider but interesting that he was curious about attending a BDSM club. I am potentially unemployed soon and won’t have the discretionary budget for a hotel room and I’m also wary of the battery acid that came out of his cock. I know, I’ll avoid reality and worry about it tomorrow.