This is the second part of the story of my encounters with a very nice gay man about 15 years older than me who saw me as a near-reincarnation of his first boyfriend. Check my post history for the first part, the explanation of how I became his hetero toy.
A couple weeks after our first little tryst – and constant nagging by my friend, Blaise, I mentioned I might be up for some more fun. We set aside some time one afternoon that I could come over to his house.
When I got there we sat across from each other in his living room. It was a pretty large room and we were nearly 20 feet away from each other. He was on a full sofa and I sat on a love seat directly across from him. I sat over there, I suppose, because I still was a little unsure of this situation. But, I had something of a plan that I thought might help alleviate my nerves.
The first thing I did was take off my tennis shoes and socks. I’ve always had a mild foot fetish, albeit for female feet. But I felt like he might like the look and I didn’t want to put my shoes on his furniture. My plan was to stretch one leg out on the love seat so I could spread my legs as much as possible.
As we talked about work and how things were going outside of work, I occasionally reached down and nudged my crotch. Then, a couple minutes later I might grab myself or rub downward. Then lift my package up in a vertical rub.
At first, he didn’t notice. His moan was audible when he finally saw me practically jacking off through my jeans. Once his attention was centered on my tightening Levi’s, I pulled my polo shirt over my head. I wasn’t a bodybuilder by any stretch of the imagination, but I was in decent shape. My chest was pretty hairy, a medium-dark red as I was born with practically orange hair. The hair on my head had darkened considerably in high school. But everywhere else I was still red and definitely a fire-crotch.
As I dropped my shirt on the floor I could feel his approving grunt from across the room.
We kept talking and I kept rubbing. Once in a while I rubbed over my chest a bit. In my head it seemed a little cheesy, a little too porn-ish. But Blaise seemed to like it. Finally, I reached down and popped the button of my jeans. I thought I heard him gasp at that. But I kept him waiting. I didn’t touch the zipper — yet.
A couple minutes later, though, I decided to go ahead and unzip my jeans. I thought it might release some of the pressure I was beginning to feel down there. My aching, arched dick nearly jumped out on its own. Only my tightly stretched bikini underwear kept it in check and out of view.
“Damn, that’s sexy as shit, boy,” he exclaimed in his Southern drawl. Now he was actively and openly rubbing himself through his own pants and I could see he was rising to the occasion.
I tried to continue our conversation as if nothing was going on.
“So, what did Mike say when -.”
“What?” he asked shifting his eyes up to my face nearly in a daze. “How do you expect me to talk about work and shit with all that going on?’
He waved his free hand in the general direction of my crotch.
I chuckled a little. But inside I was thrilled that I was having such an effect on him. I’d never received such attention from any girl I’d been with. My nerves seemed to be subsiding quite a bit.
“Well, if we aren’t going to talk, I guess it’s time to pull something else off,” I said as I stood up just enough to push my jeans down my legs. My keys and wallet jangled and thumped as they hit the floor.
I stretched my leg down the length of the love seat again when I sat back down. The tip of my dick was peeking out the top of my underwear now as it had straightened out and my right ball was hanging out below. I was only about seven inches long, maybe a bit longer when really aroused. But I thought I was pretty thick, though I’d never done much comparison.
“You just going to sit back down over there?”
“I thought you would like the view, maybe a little show,” I replied. “You have said you really like watching me around the office. I thought watching me in just underwear would be a nice change.”
“Oh, it’s a beautiful change. That’s hot as fuck. You can walk around like that all you want to,” he said excitedly. “But, right now you’ve got me on fire. And, it looks like your good to go, too.”
“So, what? You want a closer look?” I asked.
“Yes, please. Damn! I’ll even pay for it!”
“What am I now, some kind of rental toy?”
“How about private entertainment for hire? Something like a private dancer or stripper?”
“Who does more than strip?”
“Well, you ain’t done anything more than strip so far.”
At that I got up and walked over to sit beside him on his sofa, pushing my underwear down and letting it fall as I went. He was spitting in his hands by the time my ass hit the couch.
His hands seemed unusually soft and smooth as he rubbed and squeezed. He stroked me like a master, better than anything I’d ever done to myself. Up and down he rubbed and swirled and twisted, squeezing then loosening. I discovered a new sensation when rolled the palm of his hand over the head of my dick. That sent an electric shock through my body. He tickled, rubbed and squeezed my tight balls like a bag of marbles. Even when he squeezed a bit too hard it felt amazing.
Frankly, I was amazed at how well he knew how to read me. This was only the second time he’d touched me, but he knew exactly when he was doing something right and should continue.
He tried to stretch it out, to make me last longer than I had the first time, but I could take only a few minutes of this. Blaise could tell I was about to explode and cupped both his hands tightly around the head of my dick and continued to jack them up and down. In a few seconds I spasmed and unloaded. It felt like I was going to go forever.
When I finally finished there were small leaks of my white cum between his fingers. He slid his hands up and off my shaft to squeegee off as much as possible. When his hands rolled over my glans I thought I was going to explode again.
Blaise got up and started out of the room, muttering something about being back in a minute.
When he returned he had a warm, damp wash cloth and hand towel for me.
“Can I clean you up? Or, do you want to do it?” he asked.
“You can try,” I said. “I don’t know if I can stand to be touched again for a few minutes.”
“I can wait,” he said. “I’ll be happy to sit here with you naked as a jay bird, watching that pretty thing go down.”
Blaise was a bit of a backwoods redneck. Sometimes it really came out in the things he said.
But, I just sat there – or more like lay there. By the time he finished with me I had slid down on the couch to the point where only my head and shoulders were technically “upright.”
As I lay there, Blaise intently watched my rapidly declining dick, still wet with the spit from his hands and my own cum. It wobbled back and rolled to its favorite left side as it fell from grace.
Eventually, I let him clean me off. The warm wash cloth wasn’t so warm anymore. But I wasn’t so sensitive either. He was very gentle, almost loving in the way he handled me, lightly rubbing the cum off with the wet cloth and then dabbing my skin with the towel.
I could feel his eyes on my naked body as I crossed the room to retrieve my clothes.
As I was tying my shoes Blaise asked me what he owed me. I was a little dumbfounded by the question.
“ I don’t – . You don’t really have to – ,” I stammered.
“No. I know you can use the money. And that was worth something,” he said, pulling his wallet out.
“I don’t care,” I said as I stood up. “Whatever you want is fine. You don’t have to give me anything.”
“Here,” he said, pushing a wad of bills into my pants pocket. He was a good five or six inches taller than me. I almost wished he’d shoved it somewhere else. He let his hand linger for a few seconds.
“I hope we can make this a habit,” he half-whispered into my hear.
“We’ll see,” I winked.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/kileli/enticed_pt_2