fredtyg
Aug 10, 2009, 1:03 PM
Here's the story about the second most memorable man- to- man sexual experience I ever had, the first being between me and two other guys that I posted here previously. Being second doesn't mean the first one was better, it just means it's one of two stories. This one still has me wondering to this day.
I realize some may not think the actual experience is very hot because it's relatively vanilla by most standards, including mine, but the emotions involved are probably the thing that made most impact on me and are hard to put into words:
********
I was in my early twenties and living alone back then. Best years of my life, I realized later, as I had a good job, plenty of money, and lived in probably the best place I'd ever lived. But I spent a lot of time alone when I wasn't at work. That summer night was no different.
I'd had a few beers, as usual. It was about 9 o'clock and I was thinking about going to bed when the phone rang. The caller had a sexy voice, I thought, and asked for me by name. I told her she was looking for me. She said she'd been referred to me as someone who might be able to do some remodeling work for her. Why anyone would refer someone to me for remodeling was a mystery as I knew next to nothing about it and I told her so. She insisted her reference assured her of my abilities. I shrugged it off and ended with something along the line of, "...but you sure sound like a hot chick. Wouldn't mind meeting you...". Her voice and my loneliness = horniness.
She surprises me by saying, "Actually, I'm not a girl. I just sound like one". I didn't believe her but she insisted and I ended up believing her. That brought my homo out. I told him he must be a pretty hot guy if his looks matched his voice. After all was said and done he ended up inviting me up to his place in Westhaven to meet him.
Westhaven is about 25 miles north of where I lived. I didn't know the place at all but he gave me decent instructions and I headed up there right away. I was horny, but also nervous. Not only was I venturing into an unknown situation, it sounded like this would likely be a homosexual encounter and those weren't as accepted back in the early 80s as they are now. If anybody at work finds out about this... Besides, even though I knew I enjoyed mansex, I still struggled with myself that I should be interested in meeting girls and having kids.
I get to Westhaven and realized they had next to no streetlights up there. Never been there at night before. The place was really dark and I wondered if I'd be able to find him but I persevered and followed the instructions best I could. I finally ended up where I thought I should be and pulled over to the side of the road to look around. A shadow comes out of the bushes and up to my window. It was the guy, although I couldn't really see him except for his silhouette against the lit houses back in the woods. He tells me to follow him down a driveway that I didn't even see until he pointed it out.
He leads me to what seemed to be an old barn that was remodeled into a living space. I pull up and get out of the car. He says, "Hi, I'm Gene", and we shake hands.
I was pleasantly surprised at his appearance. He was maybe an inch shorter than I was with medium length red hair in a sort of beehive hairstyle. With the red hair came that albino type skin with the freckles which, while I didn't consider something I'd look for in a guy, didn't mind at all. I was expecting more girlish clothing for some reason, to match the voice, but he had regular guy wear: Levis, pendleton shirt, sneakers. Hmmm...not bad, although he'd probably be hot in something a little more girly style, as well.
He invited me inside and we sat down in what was a combination living room/ kitchen. He gave me a beer and I noticed he smoked the same brand of cigarettes I did at the time: Marlboro. We sat and just talked for maybe 15 or 20 minutes with him telling me he was looking for someone to move in with him. For some reason that got my attention. Maybe it was that I'd always envisioned living away from the city and out in the woods in a place like that. I'd think about that some more later.
Then I had to ask him: "So who gave you my name and said I was good at remodeling?". I still couldn't figure that one out. I even mentioned one homo I knew that I could think might of referred him. He said that wasn't the guy and he couldn't tell me. Quite the mystery. Heck, if nothing else I'd like to have known who it was if only to thank the guy.
We finished our smokes and beer and he asks me if I want to go upstairs. I said sure and he led me to the stairway that took us to the loft that was his bedroom. We stood next to his bed and faced each other, I wrapped my arms around him and he put his around me and we kissed.
WOW! He was probably the best kisser I've ever known, then or since, and the way he held me with his arms was so passionate. It was an instant hard- on for me. We stood there kissing for maybe a couple minutes then stopped, if only to remove our clothes and lay on the bed where we continued probably the best make out session I've ever had.
After a bit, we both instinctively moved into position for intercourse. He rolled on his back and spread his legs and I rolled over on top but slightly to the side of him. He stopped for a second and opened a drawer in the dresser next to him and said, "I have 3 types of lubes here,- mentioned the names (which I'd never heard of at that time being fairly new to the world of queerdom)- which would you prefer?". What an awesome lover this guy was!
I just told him to use whichever one he liked best. He put some on his fingers and spread some on my cock and some on the opening of his anus and we resumed. I slid inside of him and we went at it with some, if not the most, passionate lovemaking I've ever had the privilege of. Of course, as hot as he'd gotten me, it didn't take long for me to blow my load and every drop of me went inside of him. I'm usually the kind where my cum just oozes out of my cock when I come, unless I'm really, really turned on. I'm sure that time my cum came flying out of there.
I kind of collapsed on top of him after orgasm and we kissed for a while longer. Eventually, I got up, put on my clothes and he did the same. We went downstairs and lit a couple cigarettes and went out to my car, a rather sudden end to such a passionate affair just minutes earlier. We shook hands and he thanked me for coming by. "See you later" was our last words. Seems almost rude to me, in hindsight, leaving like that. What he did for me at least deserved a sleepover.
But I just drove home, feeling a little bit guilty, as usual, as I knew I wasn't supposed to be fagging off. But that was HOT! And what about him wanting someone to live with? I wouldn't mind living there? Couldn't get that out of my mind.
I even thought about it the next day when I got back into hetero mode. That guy was hot. I wouldn't have minded having him in bed with me every night and living out of town in that neat barn. But I couldn't. If anybody at work got a look at the guy I'd be living with and realized we only had one bed, they'd know I was queer. AND I'M NOT. I'm supposed to go after girls, get married and have kids!
But that sure was a nice place and he sure is HOT! In the end, I ended up blowing it because of my fear of being queer.
About a week later I get a phone call. I was in super hetero mode at the time, despite how much I'd thought of him since our last meeting. Gene was on the phone and said he was in town and wondered if I wanted him to come by. He caught me at the worst moment, hetero mode- wise. I freaked out for some reason. I yelled at him, "DON'T EVER CALL ME AT HOME"! He hung up and that was the last I heard from him.
I heard through the grape vine some years ago that Gene was "very sick", homo lingo for having AIDS. I got the impression he was living alone. Shame, as he might have made me or someone else a great wife.
To this day I wonder who it was that gave him my name and phone number. I even asked my old fuck buddy, Bill. It wouldn't surprise me if he had but even Gene said it wasn't him. Bill insists it wasn't him, either. It had to be somebody I know that's queer. But the only queers, that I know are queers, didn't do it. I suppose I'm left with that mystery and the guilt of the way I treated one of the best lovers of my life. I wish I could do that whole thing over again and do it right.
As an aside, I've said here before I consider myself a heterosexual emotionally, in that I don't think I could be emotionally attached to a guy the way I can to a girl. I'm not all that sure of that when I think of Gene. Fear of being queer aside, I think I might very well be able to fall deeply in love with a guy like Gene that's effeminite like he was. Wouldn't surprise me at all. Don't think that I could with a masculine type guy, though.
I realize some may not think the actual experience is very hot because it's relatively vanilla by most standards, including mine, but the emotions involved are probably the thing that made most impact on me and are hard to put into words:
********
I was in my early twenties and living alone back then. Best years of my life, I realized later, as I had a good job, plenty of money, and lived in probably the best place I'd ever lived. But I spent a lot of time alone when I wasn't at work. That summer night was no different.
I'd had a few beers, as usual. It was about 9 o'clock and I was thinking about going to bed when the phone rang. The caller had a sexy voice, I thought, and asked for me by name. I told her she was looking for me. She said she'd been referred to me as someone who might be able to do some remodeling work for her. Why anyone would refer someone to me for remodeling was a mystery as I knew next to nothing about it and I told her so. She insisted her reference assured her of my abilities. I shrugged it off and ended with something along the line of, "...but you sure sound like a hot chick. Wouldn't mind meeting you...". Her voice and my loneliness = horniness.
She surprises me by saying, "Actually, I'm not a girl. I just sound like one". I didn't believe her but she insisted and I ended up believing her. That brought my homo out. I told him he must be a pretty hot guy if his looks matched his voice. After all was said and done he ended up inviting me up to his place in Westhaven to meet him.
Westhaven is about 25 miles north of where I lived. I didn't know the place at all but he gave me decent instructions and I headed up there right away. I was horny, but also nervous. Not only was I venturing into an unknown situation, it sounded like this would likely be a homosexual encounter and those weren't as accepted back in the early 80s as they are now. If anybody at work finds out about this... Besides, even though I knew I enjoyed mansex, I still struggled with myself that I should be interested in meeting girls and having kids.
I get to Westhaven and realized they had next to no streetlights up there. Never been there at night before. The place was really dark and I wondered if I'd be able to find him but I persevered and followed the instructions best I could. I finally ended up where I thought I should be and pulled over to the side of the road to look around. A shadow comes out of the bushes and up to my window. It was the guy, although I couldn't really see him except for his silhouette against the lit houses back in the woods. He tells me to follow him down a driveway that I didn't even see until he pointed it out.
He leads me to what seemed to be an old barn that was remodeled into a living space. I pull up and get out of the car. He says, "Hi, I'm Gene", and we shake hands.
I was pleasantly surprised at his appearance. He was maybe an inch shorter than I was with medium length red hair in a sort of beehive hairstyle. With the red hair came that albino type skin with the freckles which, while I didn't consider something I'd look for in a guy, didn't mind at all. I was expecting more girlish clothing for some reason, to match the voice, but he had regular guy wear: Levis, pendleton shirt, sneakers. Hmmm...not bad, although he'd probably be hot in something a little more girly style, as well.
He invited me inside and we sat down in what was a combination living room/ kitchen. He gave me a beer and I noticed he smoked the same brand of cigarettes I did at the time: Marlboro. We sat and just talked for maybe 15 or 20 minutes with him telling me he was looking for someone to move in with him. For some reason that got my attention. Maybe it was that I'd always envisioned living away from the city and out in the woods in a place like that. I'd think about that some more later.
Then I had to ask him: "So who gave you my name and said I was good at remodeling?". I still couldn't figure that one out. I even mentioned one homo I knew that I could think might of referred him. He said that wasn't the guy and he couldn't tell me. Quite the mystery. Heck, if nothing else I'd like to have known who it was if only to thank the guy.
We finished our smokes and beer and he asks me if I want to go upstairs. I said sure and he led me to the stairway that took us to the loft that was his bedroom. We stood next to his bed and faced each other, I wrapped my arms around him and he put his around me and we kissed.
WOW! He was probably the best kisser I've ever known, then or since, and the way he held me with his arms was so passionate. It was an instant hard- on for me. We stood there kissing for maybe a couple minutes then stopped, if only to remove our clothes and lay on the bed where we continued probably the best make out session I've ever had.
After a bit, we both instinctively moved into position for intercourse. He rolled on his back and spread his legs and I rolled over on top but slightly to the side of him. He stopped for a second and opened a drawer in the dresser next to him and said, "I have 3 types of lubes here,- mentioned the names (which I'd never heard of at that time being fairly new to the world of queerdom)- which would you prefer?". What an awesome lover this guy was!
I just told him to use whichever one he liked best. He put some on his fingers and spread some on my cock and some on the opening of his anus and we resumed. I slid inside of him and we went at it with some, if not the most, passionate lovemaking I've ever had the privilege of. Of course, as hot as he'd gotten me, it didn't take long for me to blow my load and every drop of me went inside of him. I'm usually the kind where my cum just oozes out of my cock when I come, unless I'm really, really turned on. I'm sure that time my cum came flying out of there.
I kind of collapsed on top of him after orgasm and we kissed for a while longer. Eventually, I got up, put on my clothes and he did the same. We went downstairs and lit a couple cigarettes and went out to my car, a rather sudden end to such a passionate affair just minutes earlier. We shook hands and he thanked me for coming by. "See you later" was our last words. Seems almost rude to me, in hindsight, leaving like that. What he did for me at least deserved a sleepover.
But I just drove home, feeling a little bit guilty, as usual, as I knew I wasn't supposed to be fagging off. But that was HOT! And what about him wanting someone to live with? I wouldn't mind living there? Couldn't get that out of my mind.
I even thought about it the next day when I got back into hetero mode. That guy was hot. I wouldn't have minded having him in bed with me every night and living out of town in that neat barn. But I couldn't. If anybody at work got a look at the guy I'd be living with and realized we only had one bed, they'd know I was queer. AND I'M NOT. I'm supposed to go after girls, get married and have kids!
But that sure was a nice place and he sure is HOT! In the end, I ended up blowing it because of my fear of being queer.
About a week later I get a phone call. I was in super hetero mode at the time, despite how much I'd thought of him since our last meeting. Gene was on the phone and said he was in town and wondered if I wanted him to come by. He caught me at the worst moment, hetero mode- wise. I freaked out for some reason. I yelled at him, "DON'T EVER CALL ME AT HOME"! He hung up and that was the last I heard from him.
I heard through the grape vine some years ago that Gene was "very sick", homo lingo for having AIDS. I got the impression he was living alone. Shame, as he might have made me or someone else a great wife.
To this day I wonder who it was that gave him my name and phone number. I even asked my old fuck buddy, Bill. It wouldn't surprise me if he had but even Gene said it wasn't him. Bill insists it wasn't him, either. It had to be somebody I know that's queer. But the only queers, that I know are queers, didn't do it. I suppose I'm left with that mystery and the guilt of the way I treated one of the best lovers of my life. I wish I could do that whole thing over again and do it right.
As an aside, I've said here before I consider myself a heterosexual emotionally, in that I don't think I could be emotionally attached to a guy the way I can to a girl. I'm not all that sure of that when I think of Gene. Fear of being queer aside, I think I might very well be able to fall deeply in love with a guy like Gene that's effeminite like he was. Wouldn't surprise me at all. Don't think that I could with a masculine type guy, though.