Of bocadillos & men

I would like to think I'm an equal opportunity fucker.  

In fact, I know I am.  I sleep with all kinds of men, regardless of age or racial background.  My one single criterion is that the cock has to be bare.  Oh okay, add a second one, hard!  LOL.

Which makes it easy to be impressed sleeping with men in their 50s with raging hard ons.  I try discreetly not to ask the seniors if they have what I call term VVT-i erections.  Nope you Toyota drivers, it doesn't stand for Variable Valve Timing with Intelligence but rather, Vitamin Viagra Tops - induced, LOL.  At least, senior tops know how (and can afford) to keep their end of the bargain.

Wilson is one of those 50 something Caucasian tops who does it for me.  He has a beautiful 8 inch cut and thick cock that stands out like a flag pole everytime we fuck.  He also is in his late 50s with a beer gut that I don't mind.  The sex is satisfying and we both get what we want.  Him my ass, me his cock.

However, I am wary of Wilson because like any man in his age range, he is wanting to "settle down."  Which means he drops hints of making our late night rendezvous a regular thing, or when he says "you should text me more often" or "what are you doing on Saturday, would you like to see a play?"  The only play I like to see with him is us sexually playing.  

The other week, we were having one of our late night bouts and I was sucking him when he let go of his guard and said "Oh look at your beautiful red lips sucking my cock.  And your jet black hair," as he fondles my head.

Dude, I'm not the Asian Snow White, so stop! - it's freaking me out.

I couldn't get out of his apartment any faster, and when he messaged not five days after that night, I was tempted between staying home on a Friday night and being barebacked by a thick 8 inch cock for hours and hours, guess what I chose?  Yep, you guessed right.  It was TV and popcorn night for me!  Lame, huh?

So when I got hit on online by another dom top bear of a dad in his 50s, I was pleasantly surprised.  I need someone to replace clucky Wilson.

This one turned out to be a shrink with a PhD.  So I'm gonna call him Dr. Hyde.  He is also white, 58 yo, 5'10, 190 lbs, 8" thick cock, with a big gut and an even bigger, kick ass apartment in a tony part of downtown.  His profile said he was single, professional masculine and a natural dominant top into leather, bondage, restraint, ropes and control, seeking younger masc sub guys, master/slave, dad/son.  Of course I got sucked in!

He managed to "lure" me into his apartment at 6:00 pm simply because it was convenient for him to have it (sex) asap.  The time stamp alone should have given me clues and raised early alarms.  But I chose to ignore it.  

Ok here's the deal if you can't read between the lines.  If I'm expected to bottom at 6 pm, that means I would have cleaned and douched out by 5 pm, which means I haven't had much to eat, prior.  And meeting at 6 pm and having sex would mean, the earliest I could have my dinner would be around midnight.  Remember readers who are tops, asses don't get auto/magically clean . It requires hours and hours of patience, pre-planning, self-starvation and preparation to get into that "ready and publicly presentable state of Col. Sanders/KFC cleanliness."  The lengths a bottom has to endure just to land a top.  Sigh!

Dr. Hyde opens the door in a wife beater and footy shorts.  He is bespectacled and has a crooked nose.  He politely ushers me in.  We talk or rather he talks, and tells me all about himself, how he used to be married (to a woman), his string of male ex-partners (of yore) and what he is looking for in a present day "boy."  He briefly interrogates me about my own ethnic background and sexual orientation, but launches back into his "self" mode.  For him he says, he takes pleasure out of control.  He wants total control, of everything.

He tells me to undress and sit in front of him, and not to touch my cock.  My own pleasure he says is immaterial.  Only his is paramount.  He orders me to sit by his lap and sniff his balls.  He is a smoker so he smokes while I do this and completely goes back into his trance like soliloquy mode.  More tales of the 1970s are related and I learn intimate details about his wife, his subsequent divorce complete with details of who got the house and custody of the children and his family's political orientation.  Clearly TMI for me.

He eventually orders me to suck him, which I do and he gets a raging hard on.  I swallow him deeply and he groans in pleasure, pushing my head down in a masterful command.  I strain very hard not to choke and to minimize my own breathing.  Dr. Hyde is pleased at my oral services and skills.  In no time at all, he is on the edge, and orders me to stop.

We do more of the couch psycho-analysis in the lounge room, with offerings of water and chocolate candies.  I accept the former but unwisely decline the latter.  He asks about why I seek a dad/son relationship, and what am I really into, what am I ready to give up and tries to see if this is in line with what he has to offer or want.  He tells me he normally just sleeps with "young Caucasian subs in their mid 20s to mid 30s," no more.  I cock an eyebrow to express why the hell is he still not throwing me out.

The night drags on and we go into the same routine.  Oral.  Break. Talk.  Food.  Oral.  Break.  Psycho-babble.  Water.  The clock continues to tick.

"I'll tell you how this is going to end," Dr. Hyde suddenly speaks. 

"You'll call me mid-week and we're going to have dinner.  We're gonna get to know each other in a non-sexual mode and if you want, I can bring along a slave contract that you can peruse.  If you agree to sign, make sure you read every section of it before you do, because when you sign it, you will belong to me, twenty four seven, body and soul."

What the "Scheiße" .... ?

I look at him blankly.  Not that he notices my lack of response.  By now he is in full leather gear - chaps, harness and a hood.  He talks but he is staring into the floor as he twitches his bulging pink nipples, as he sits on a chair across.  I am ordered to lie on the bed, open my legs and to play with myself.  Despite the oddity of it all, I manage a semi-erection.  Dr. Hyde's master's cock in contrast, has shrunk and is now in danger of being hidden in a beer gut slash testicular eclipse.

The bedside clock now reads 1:00 am!

I can't believe I've managed to stay that long.  Why did I anyway?  Was I amused at his odd behavior?  Was I allowing myself to be psycho-analysed?  Am I becoming an odd sub myself?  My thinking brain kept asking.

In the end, my hunger pangs couldn't be ignored.  I wasn't getting any sex, it was all about his wants and needs (and by auto-default, zero of mine), and I have a double smoked ham and Gruyère cheese sandwich inside my fridge that I've prepared earlier that I really, really would wanna eat.

Snapping out of it, I gathered my jeans and headed to the bathroom to get dressed.  As I hastily said goodbye, Dr Hyde was still in his trance like reverie.  

"Remember boy, I am not going to chase you.  So I will leave it up to you to call me for our dinner.  I don't normally chase anyone outside of my racial boundaries.  But you seem promising and have most of the attributes of what I am looking for in a sub.  Plus you have a killer mouth that sucks like a pro," he kept mumbling in his deep masterful voice, as I made a beeline for the elevator.

Back out in the cold street and windy night, I was glad no one was about to see me as I gathered myself and trotted the walk of shame, three blocks to where I had parked my car.  I couldn't drive home fast enough, but I knew I had to keep to the speed limits.

Lessons for the day:

(1) a ham & cheese sandwich trumps bad sex and

(2)  the ease of sexually meeting a much older man is directly proportional to the speed of dashing out of his apartment.