joe

.
[ancient history--i lived and wrote this eons ago, but since (a) i haven't posted in a goddam week, and/or (b) this blog has become so nauseatingly family-friendly of late, i'm offering up the following]


after establishing i'm not into three-ways (because i don't even wanna think about what the sugar daddy's like)--he assures me it's cool, they play separately--he invites me over to his place, telling me he prefers to play there. i balk, telling him i'm not into being filmed or watched by the lover from a louvered-door closet (because i've had some experience in this regard). he assures me this will not be the case; the lover will have long since gone to bed in a different wing of the house by the time i get there, and from the beachfront address he gives me i can totally see how that could be true so i decide to take him at his word and grab my drink and my keys.

he answers the door looking much like his pictures--latin, short, compact worked-out gymnast's body, mid-thirties if he's a day but very well-maintained.

during the preliminaries, he starts calling me daddy--and since i've gotten that all my gay life, it doesn't kill the mood.

i fuck him well, as always, fake my orgasm and make him cum--you know, my usual. then afterwards, i pull him close, start nuzzling him and playing with his nipples (cause he loves that), and initiate the standard guttermorality post-coital interview.

i make him tell me his whole sexual history, with particular emphasis on the first time he got fucked. he's reluctant to give it up; i feel him stiffen in my arms.

but i sternly persist, and he eventually does [yes, daddy]. turns out it was a trusted employee of his father's, when he was 13. i make him give me every excruciating, secret, painful detail, and as he does i re-enact it, employing verbal skills i scarcely knew i possessed--and god, i fuck him just like his dad's employee did--face-down and screaming, mouth buried in his pillow, and he cums and i cum--hard--and it's totally hot and then afterwards, even though he's in his thirties, i walk away feeling like a child-molesting perv.

[he calls me several times afterwards; i never go back]