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Once Every Five Years

Posted by: SoloTouchArchive Author: admin Posted on: 14 Oct 1999 1 comments
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by 303Tom My second job out west was in a small town, far enough from Denver that most of my social life was spent there. My house was about 120 miles from the nearest gay bar, but I wasn�t to spend my life in celibacy, as I was to find out. There were 2 bars that were alive, a brew-pub, since closed, and a C&W bar on the south side of town, in the middle of the trailer parks. It was there that I met him. It was fun to go there once or twice a month. All the cowboys, truck drivers, blue-collar workers and wannbees showed up regularly. So did the �girls� � 21 to 65, with their beaus, or just lookin�. So did the cops on occasion, when they got wind that some guy behind on his support payments was drinking up the check. There was live music � the same C&W band played there for the 2 � years I was there. It was fun to hang out by the fence railing that separated the dance floor from the bar area, a boot up on the lowest rail, ass sticking out into the traffic like the other guys. It was a working town, with the normal mix of cowboys. The predominant Scots/Irish and German, the large Hispanic minority, and a few Indians thrown in. With their tight Wranglers and boots, their in-shape bodies from all the outdoor work, and the Western dances, there was plenty to look at. Western Neapolitan � vanilla, chocolate and strawberry legs and asses to die for. So was the men�s room. Three cup urinals in a row, no modesty panels, and those guys took pride in waiting �til a couple of mugs of beer built up. They almost always stood about six inches out, unbuckled, shucked �em down, pulled it out, and aimed (later in the evening, not too successfully). Most were rubbery-hard, so it stuck out 6, 7 or, Oh my God, 8 or more inches, for the world to see. Buddy pissing was definitely a sport there. I usually wore what I did to the Western gay bars in the larger cities � jeans, a western shirt, deerskin boots, a Stetson and a black leather vest I got in a shop in Amsterdam. On cooler evenings, a denim duster, and on the coldest nights, a sheepskin coat. I was frequently complimented by a guy on my �outfit�, and fit right in with most of the other guys. But it seemed so straight there, I never cruised. They were friendly, I struck up a lot of conversations, but it seemed to be �look but don�t touch.� Boy, did I look! What JO material! Until that fateful Sunday night� I had the next day off, and thought I�d stop in for a beer or two. Blessedly, the band was off (you get tired of the same stuff night after night). It wasn�t crowded, so I found a stol next to a set-up place with no one there. After a few minutes, this blond walks up, takes the seat next to me, and gives me a hearty �Howdy!� I returned a nod and a smile, and we started talking. He was as fascinating as he was handsome! He was born in Germany (serviceman and a local girl) and spends time there visiting relatives. Since I had been to Europe too, we had a lot in common. Blond, blue eyes, husky (not overweight) frame, in his early 30s. I thought he looked vaguely familiar, and it turns out he was 2nd guitar for the band. His wife was a cocktail waitress there too, but had taken the car to visit family in Nebraska, leaving him alone. Her 16 year old son was out for the night. As it got later, he said he�d better be going, it was 20 minutes to his house, walking. I had had enough too, so I offered to drive him. I often did this, no ulterior motives, just to be neighborly. Always ended with the guy hopping out, saying thanks, and going into the house alone. I never was disappointed because I never expected anything. It was cold enough that he didn�t object, and was grateful. It turned out to be a 5 minute drive to his trailer park, and he invited me in for a last beer. Since we were getting along so well, I thought why not. He�s a real turn-on, and I could always use the memories to beat off to later. We were sitting in his trailer�s living room, on the couch watching TV. He asked if I smoked. Since we�d been trading cigarettes all evening, I guessed he meant pot. I do it once or twice a month, I said sure. He leaned over me to get to the shelves on the side, saying �The damn stash is here somewhere�. I thought nothing of it until the hand he put on my thigh to steady himself slipped up to my crotch and stayed there. I put my hand on his shoulder, down his firm back, lifted up his shirt, and started doing some playing with his soft skin. �Mmm. That�s nice. I hoped you�d want to play some. I really need it. It�s been 5 years.� �Five years? I said. �Why so long?� �Well, I don�t get the urge all that often, but when I do, I just can�t hold off.� �What about you wife? Does she know?� �Naw. She wouldn�t understand. Besides I know for a fact she�s seein� an old boyfriend in Nebraska, and she�s getting� royally fucked right now. We don�t talk about it, but I figure I can get a man, too, now that she�s away for a few days.� I felt uncomfortable doing it in their trailer, so I suggested that he come to my place. He was all for it, and after a long buddy piss to get rid of some more beer, off we went. We had a chance to compare dicks, standing at the toilet. His, to my joy, was uncut, about my size, with a smaller head. The skin was very thin, showing all the contours of the head and ridge, and retracted easily when he unloaded the beer. The only problem was it was too short and tight for docking. Well, I won�t get perfection until I get to heaven anyway. Mine is cut, has a �helmet� head, and my cut is very tight. Like most light-complected guys, there is no color change at the scar, which isn�t very noticeable anyway. We both liked what we saw and felt. After all, when you�re holding a buddies� pissing dick, it�s only fair to squeeze the last drops out, isn�t it? We got to my place in half an hour, and were in the bedroom stripped in five minutes. He was everything I hoped. A little taller than me, younger, a little slimmer, with that �natural� athletic body that you can�t get at the gym. He was hairless (opposites attract, I�m moderately furry). �God, you�re so smooth. I can feel all the muscles under your skin. Your chest, your back, your ass, your thighs�� Boy, that fur sure looks and feels good. I always wanted to look like a man, instead of a hairless kid.� �With that boner sticking up in the air, how could you look like a kid? I�ve always thought a muscular guy like you looks wimpy with his soft dick hanging. When you�re hard all over, you look like a real man.� I sat down on the bed and pulled him towards me. As I slowly slipped that rock-hard prick into my mouth, my lips and tongue felt that glassy-smooth skin that only an uncut man�s dick can have. As it went deeper, I pulled the skin slowly away and played with the head. No taste! �Wow, you really keep yourself clean!� I said as I withdrew and languidly played with that supple skin, slowly stroking it, watching the head do its �now you see it, now you don�t� game. �Yeah, she hates the cheese, so I wash it a couple of times a day for her. I was worried you wouldn�t like it. Almost everybody thinks it looks weird. But being born in Germany, they don�t cut over there. And I�m kind of attached to it (ha ha), so I don�t want to get cut� �I don�t blame you. It�s beautiful just as it is. I really like it.� After I lit a fire, we both got on the bed, into a 69. I was surprised. For a once in 5 years man, he could suck with the best. Nice and slow, savoring the tastes, the feel in the mouth, knowing just where my sweet spot is. I continued my exploration with my mouth and my hand. We were like two playful puppies. Working each other�s cocks, slowly sucking, jacking, looking. Umms, grunts, groans, oh yeahs, little shivers, they told us what was right. Since it was late after a long day and quite a few beers, there was no urgency, not even pre-cum yet. I thought we were safe not using rubbers, since no fluids were being exchanged. We played for about a half hour, fondling cocks, balls, thighs, asses. His was so smooth and muscular, I couldn�t get enough of it. �Oh God, that feels so good. You just gotta fuck me, man. I�ve got an itch that needs scratchin� bad. Haven�t had it in sooo long!� After telling him that an ass was just for looking and feeling, not for fucking (for me anyway), he said �OK. I couldn�t get into it now anyway. I�m still too drunk to fuck right now. How about we go to sleep. When I wake up in the morning, I get my hang-over hardon, and can go a couple of times. My wife always gets it then.� �Well, I�m kind of tired too, but you�ve really turned me on. I gotta get off before I fall asleep. OK if I jack off?� �No. Do anything you want. I understand.� �Anything? That ass of yours looks so good. I�d like to hump off in your crack.� �Sure. Go ahead. I don�t mind.� With that he turned on his stomach, bent his back to stick those twin mounds up and wiggled a bit. My dick was so hard! I grabbed my lube, spread those cheeks, and went to town. His ass was so firm, yet yielding. His athletic butt just opened up, let me slide in, and closed over my prick so I could/t see it. Hairless, the skin in the buttcrack was so smooth. I humped away, clinging to his smooth massive thighs with my hairy ones, leaning forward to massage his smooth, muscular back, his flanks, his butt. I kept moaning about how handsome he was, how good it felt, how close I was getting. �Yeah, man. Do it. Feels real good. Fuck that buttcrack. I can feel it!� I took a hit of poppers, lunged up one last time, and suddenly white jizz was squirting out of that muscle tunnel and pooling in the small of his back. I�m a moaner, a groaner, a shouter, so he knew when I made it. I collapsed on his back, hugging him, getting my belly massaged by that bubble butt, humping a few more times, smearing us both with my load. After my heart rate got back to normal, I rose up to get a towel. �Naw, that�s OK. Just rub it in like lotion. It�s natural. It�s what guys do.� I threw the covers over us, and by the glow of the dying fire, cuddled up to him and fell asleep. The next morning...continued later