THE BIG ONE

by MATUS I was new to town. Really, if I had paid any attention to those tests you take to indicate your stress level I should have been dead. Not only was I in a new city, I had a new career, I was recently divorced, and my mother had just died. And Christmas was just plain hell. I was not making friends any too quickly either since I had moved into the only high rise apartment building in the city which seemed to double as a retirement center. Besides I wasn't able to relate to anyone very long anyway given the circumstances. All was not lost though, as there were several gay bars and a bookstore/video arcade that offered frequent diversions that did not require great amounts of personality or time. It was in the bar that I first noticed him. He was in his forties, ( I was just 30), but was obviously into sports. Running, mostly, I think, since he often showed up at the bar in sweats or even shorts. He seem to exude all of the confidence I lacked. He spoke jovially with other clientele, was relaxed and seemed content. He never seemed to have that hungry prowling aire too often displayed by the desperate sex seekers in the bar. It was the aire I most often displayed since I was frequently looking for sex to relieve my pain. Nonetheless, he noticed me too. The first time, he made an appreciative remark. I was astounded. He couldn't possible be interested in me. Yet there the remark lay like a small bandage covering my gaping emotional wounds. Thereafter, each time we met the conversation grew longer - always ending in an appreciative and hopeful remark. I clearly didn't fit into his busy confident life - yet his teasing and hopeful remarks indicated that someday if the timing was right it might happen. Finally, one night after several drinks he leaned over and quietly said, "I don't know what's taken me so long. You are just too hot. Come-on and lets go home to my place." I was off my bar stool so fast it is probably still spinning. In his kitchen we sat with another drink. I was probably too drunk - but also very ready for whatever this guy had in mind. Little did I know how that night would affect me. IN most experiences of gay sex that I have had, the object is clear and the means to achieve it is direct. In other words, guys know what guys want and they go for it with no holds barred. (A wrestling term - how appropriate) But tonight was different. In slow motion he kissed me. Languidly he kissed my neck and ears as we talked. He stroked the backs of my arms and reached up to tickle my armpits - almost in a distracted manner. But more than that he made it clear that he was not just interested in a quick fuck, but that he had chosen me because he really LIKED ME. The effect was building an excruciating sexual tension - till finally he pulled me up and urged me to follow him into his bedroom. WE stood and kissed briefly. He pulled off my shirt and sucked my tight nipples. I pulled off his shirt, then reached down to unbutton his pants. They dropped to somewhere as I reached down to feel. "Oh my God" I breathed in short gasps. My hand had felt for his cock expecting to find - well- adequate normalcy. Instead my hand slid along a pole and was still reaching for the end. Every belief in my own inadequacy came crashing in like an avalanche. "I, I, I, can never match that," I stammered. HE gently took my chin and raised my head till our eyes met. "That's not what I'm interested in," he said, " I want you because I like you - not just what is in your pants." He turned out the lights as he said, "get out of your clothes and get in bed." I heard him slip out of his underwear. As he moved into the bed beside me I reached for his face and opened my legs for him to slide between my thighs. My rigid cock lay flat against his belly as I rocked his massive fire hose between my closed legs. My precum oozed a slippery trail across his tight stomach. Because he wanted ME, I only wanted him more. I curled beside him and tried to stretch my mouth to take him in. It was futile. I licked up and down that turgid, mighty shaft. My tongue flicked rapidly at the sensitive underside of his giant cock. My lips kissed his dripping slit. But getting that magnificent head into my mouth was an impossibility. He moaned. Then my mind was made up. "Please...please fuck me," I said. He rolled over and said, "with pleasure." I can't say that my loneliness and frustration immediately vanished that night. But because of the gifts of caring and kindness he had given me, I gave everything I could to him. As he centered between my upheld legs resting on his shoulders, I reached to spread my ass as wide as I could. I can't say it didn't hurt. He oiled my twitching feverous puckering hole and that incredible fuck stick. Slowly his Coke can thick cock spread open my tight hole. He never did get all the way in me. I jerked like I'd been blasted with electricity when he hit my limit. HE held still for a moment then soothed, " I don't mean to hurt you, I'll be careful." Then he started to slide again. I'll never know how long it lasted. I may have even passed out from the delirious pleasure and pain. My body was covered in a slick sheen of sweat from the tension and strain. Suddenly, his cock expanded to an even larger size. I frantically grasped the mattress as he shuddered and thrust out of control. I'm sure I screamed. His hot jism blasted deep into me and drooled out my ass. After he came he stayed lodged tight in me until I regained control of my breathing. Then, oiling my turgid, throbbing cock, he stroked me slowly until I too emptied the storage chambers of potency splashing hot streams of cum across my chest. Slowly he withdrew that giant snake from my ass. I moaned at the loss. I was never in his bed again. In fact I'm not even sure i ever saw him again. But I still think of him and silently thank him for that night. He taught me there was more than just taking in life. And even in dark moments there are gifts where we least expect them.