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LATE BLOOMER

Posted by: SoloTouchArchive Author: admin Posted on: 15 Mar 2000 1 comments
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by Dragon Many of us straight men are late bloomers - I am. Some of us do not discover our active Bisexual side until relatively late. My first experience with a man was in college and then I was a passive participant. I was a freshman, my roommate, Roger, who was in graduate school, took me under his wing. At night, lying in the dark in separate twin beds, we would masturbate ourselves and talk of girls and our fantasies. Both of our female fantasies were music majors. Mine was a hot brunette pianist named Janis with gorgeous legs. His was a majestic, zaftig, blond voice major. He never came close to even touching her. I did better, eventually Janis gave me my first head. Ah, that was music! Even though Roger was older by 5 years, I tended to be the dominate one, personality wise. We decided after a few months to move to a much smaller apartment to save money. Now we would be sleeping in the same king-size bed. The first night we began jerking off as usual but I was having trouble cumming. Roger leaned over close to me and offered to help. My pulse quickened at the thought. I whispered yes, please. He sat up and took me in hand. This first touch of another man was electrifying! I actually gasped when he began caressing and stroking me. It was even better than Janis' touch. He laughed softly at my reaction. Then, I will never forget, he suddenly moved his hands under my hips and lifted me across his legs. I was totally exposed and vulnerable and my cock rivet hard. He began stroking me again, then moved his other hand under my balls, massaging them while stroking my cock, gently but firmly. It was slick with precum and this must have excited him because he suddenly speeded up the jacking. I came in seconds. I even remember crying out in the darkness! After that, it was an almost daily ritual in a variety of situations. Sometimes in the morning, I would awaken to his touch stroking me from a sound sleep - a wonderful way to wake up. Occasionally, he might find me in the shower and, without saying a word, step in with me and begin soaping my cock 'til I was hard. As the water poured over us, he always put one arm around me holding me close and with his other hand quickly jacked me to orgasm. But the most erotic times were the afternoon naps. I knew these were going to be sessions that would take me to the limit of endurance. He would arrange a mound of pillows and place them under my hips and back. Then he would sit between my legs and with my hard cock pointing, begin working me, stroking and taking me to the very edge. Just when I could hold it no longer, he would pull back, sometimes using the squeeze technique to hold off orgasm. Then, he would start again stroking with one hand while his other caressed and teased my balls - his touch was magic. When the pressure became intolerable and I was driven almost crazy, I begged him for release. Then he jacked me to ecstasy as I covered us both with an explosion of cum. Almost every night we jacked before going to sleep, even if we had already done it that day. Even on days when I was not particularly interested due to stress or fatigue, his touch could always excite me. He was an erotic machine, usually masturbating himself three or four times a day - not counting me. I was the selfish receiver of his expert touch. In every other way, I dominated him - but in this, he controlled me. I was literally in his hands. Every time I offered to do him, he always refused, saying he just wanted me to enjoy it. I did. This went on for almost two years until he graduated. Now I move ahead 15 years. I was 36, happily married with children, a full sex life and a career as an advertising account executive. I had no same-sex adventures; only the occasional fantasy from wild erotic memories of times with Roger. It had left me with a profound taste for being masturbated - which my wife fortunately enjoyed doing. Sometimes we would masturbate each other for an hour more; she would cum again and again - harder than any other way. At the agency, I met Tom, the senior media executive. He was about 10 years older, married with no children. Tom was Irish, witty and very smart. Everyone looked up to and wanted to please him. We were often thrown together on accounts and I was flattered when in a short time, I became his prot�g�. He was also a very attractive man, prematurely gray, an inch or two taller than my six-one with an angular body born to model executive styles, which he had in the past. As we often had to work late, we would have dinner together and return to the agency to work into the night. Sometimes we would have the place to ourselves except for one or two media people. There was the usual man talk between us; women, our wives, the hot new secretary, our fantasies about the occasional models we used in ads. We even discussed masturbation, especially if things were not going well at home - which happens in all marriages. He had an inventive sense of humor, giving a spin to every situation; like when his wife caught him jerking in the shower. "You haven't fucked me in two weeks and you are jerking off!? Thanks, Tom." When summer came, we had been working together for about six months. My wife and her girlfriend had taken all the kids to the family mountain cabin for a week. Because she had the flu the week before, I was at the end of my second week of no sex and feeling very horny. Tom began kidding me about it, saying that was the reason I was so grumpy to work with. That Friday night was the end of a very tough week and Tom and I were having dinner. We were going to return to the office and clean up some paper work. Over drinks, he began teasing me about my sexual stress, suggesting that my wife would probably be agreeably raped on the doorstep when she returned. I said that it would depend upon her mood, no matter how horny I was. He did not say anything - just smiled. After dinner we were driving back to the agency in his car. He suddenly revealed that he and his wife were having the same problems. They had not had sex in weeks. "Looks like we are in the same boat, Sport." I agreed with him. Then he said; "Why don't we do something about it?" I remember that same tingle in my chest that I had with Roger in college. Before I could respond, he laughed; "I have always wondered about the size of your cock. Mine is not very big. Let's compare." "Sure" I answered. My throat went dry with sudden excitement. It was night on a residential street. He pulled the car over and parked not far from a street light. He turned to me, smiled and unzipped. I did the same. I was only half hard and I began stroking. I looked at him, he was already hard, about 5 inches cut. He began jacking himself and watching me as I stroked, waiting for me to get full size. I am uncut and my hand sliding the skin back and forth over the tip seemed to fascinate him. I finally achieved my six and he reached over and took me in hand. That old electrifying charge surged though me again. For the first time, I reached and took hold of a man. He was smaller in my hand but unusually hot. I loved the feeling of the soft skin sheathing his hardness and began stroking him firmly. Tom sighed; "Dam' I have waited for this." He moved from under the steering wheel closer to me so I could access him. Stroking him at the same time he did me, doubled the charge. I moved my other hand under his balls, teasing and rolling them in my hand, as Roger had done me, bringing deep moans from Tom. We jacked, looking at our cocks in the dim light, slow then fast, then slow, playing to our mutual pleasure. He kept whispering how he had wanted this ever since he first saw me. I had no idea; now each word he said was exciting me with this renewed thrill of sex with another man. My head was spinning; I had been attracted to him all along and now he had set this up. Our breathing sounded like two teenagers on a hot date. I was getting excited very fast. I pulled out my handkerchief, we were both wearing suits and I was getting close. So was he, but he made no effort for a handkerchief. "Are you ready?" he whispered. I was. He knew it, he was controlling me as I was him. He moved closer, jamming our cocks close together. We exploded that same instant, blowing a geyser of cum which I immediately caught with my handkerchief, covering both cocks as we continued to pump. We moaned together; - it was so exciting! There was something terribly intimate about both of us blasting cum in the same handkerchief at the same moment. Afterward, we leaned back in silence. Nothing was said for a long time. After cleaning up, he took me to my car. "Call me tomorrow. At home." The next day was Saturday. I had slept well, sexually satiated by so simple an act as if I had been fucking all night. I called him around eleven. He was warm and funny as usual, then told me that his wife would be gone all day to her mother's and would not return until late that night. "Why don't you come over?" For the next two hours I could think of nothing else. The pleasure of the previous night, the incredible intimacy of cumming together with another man renewed all my old feelings. And I decided I would make this special. Something for him to remember. It was raining that afternoon when I drove up his drive. I pulled up right next to the front door. There was a small window in the door where he could look out. Somehow, I knew he would be there watching. I looked at him from the car and smiled. He smiled back. I waited a bit - letting him anticipate. Then I opened the door in the light rain. He opened the front door and looked at me, his face suddenly froze. I opened my raincoat revealing that I wore no pants - just a fully primed hard cock. I sat there a moment looking at him then pulled the coat around me and went up the steps to the door and inside. Tom shut the door, his blue eyes shinning. He reached to open my raincoat and that is when I surprised him. I pulled him to me and kissed him full on the mouth. I had never kissed a man like that - just like I would a woman. Full, hot, hard, tongue searching. He caught his breath, then hotly responded. We held the kiss as my hands moved down to his pants. He was already hard. His hands found me beneath the raincoat. At the same time, I unzipped him. But the kiss seemed to have mesmerized him - for his hands left my cock and his arms went around me, holding me, not wanting the kiss to end. I eased down his jockey briefs releasing his rigid rod. As I took hold of him I pressed my tongue further in his mouth. He shuddered; groaned and exploded in my hand without a stroke. I felt his whole body tremble and we leaned back against the wall. He continued moaning and looking down, watching as I stroked him harder, his arms still holding me for support. "Oh, oh, oooooooooh lord -" He just kept shooting in spite of having cum the night before. I must have drained every drop because he began to tremble with weakness. Keeping his arm over my shoulder, I carefully led him into the living room where he could lay back on the sofa. He closed his eyes. I went to the bathroom, wet a towel in warm water and came back. I began wiping him with the towel. He opened his eyes and looked at me. "I have never kissed a man like that. I know it sounds crazy at my age, but I never have. I have been sucked, I've jacked, I even sucked one man but -" he did not finish, just shook his head. He held out his arms and I moved beside him, both of us locked in a manly embrace, kissing passionately. The man to man heat built immediately and I felt my cock stirring. I had not cum yet. His hand found me, and he started jacking me and the old tingle was back. Then he began kissing his way down my body. He kissed my cock, licking the head and then took me in his hot mouth, sucking me fully hard. Another first, a man sucking me. Aristotle was right, only a man knows how a man feels. That first time with a man was exquisite. The relationship lasted for seven years. Our wives never knew, never even suspected. We would meet once or twice a month, sometimes in the car, and three very dangerous times at night in the conference room. I would sit on the same conference table where we met with clients, my cock iron hard as he sucked and stroked me. From a room down the hall we would sometimes hear someone on the phone answering a night call. The excitement of possible discovery heightened every feeling. Most often, we met at his house when his wife was gone on one of her frequent trips. And yes, I did suck him - but that first time is another story. Eventually, I moved to New York to another agency. Whenever I returned to Chicago, we managed to get time together, jacking and sucking each other to make up for lost time. It finally ended when he retired to New Orleans. Since then, there have been a few others. Not many, for the standard and expectations are high; but I learned from him that the right man is always worth the wait.