Hot Gay Erotica, page 3
I will be celebrating my sixtieth birthday soon and would like to engage your services to help me celebrate living so damn long. I will fly you to Seattle and reserve a nice hotel room downtown for us. In addition to quality time alone, I’m hoping that you will also join me for a birthday dinner, just the two of us, at someplace special. Please let me know if you are available and what kind of deposit you require in addition to airfare. BTW: I really like the new beard and have always thought you were one of the hottest men on video since Al Parker!
The answer was almost immediate, and in the affirmative:Don:
Thanks for the compliments! Al Parker? WOW! What a nice thing to tell a guy. I’d be honored to help you celebrate your birthday and would do my best make it special for you. Please remember that what you are engaging is only my time. Any activity that occurs between us will be negotiated separately on my arrival. Seattle is one of my favorite cities and I look forward to meeting you. Below are my particulars.
Don was almost flattered by the promptness, politeness, and clarity of the correspondence. Airfare was purchased, a limousine and a room with a spectacular view reserved. The day was more than a month away but Don was already anxious, afraid of disappointment. A week before the event, however, he received an email to erase his worries:Don:
Just to confirm that I will be with you for your birthday next week. Please let me know if there is anything special I can do for you by way of preparation or appearance. Below is the itinerary you arranged through my travel agent. Will you meet me at the airport?
Don contemplated Tommy’s query as to what he might like, and answered simply: Just please have your beard. A limo will meet you at the airport. Really looking forward to meeting you.
His birthday morning found Don happier than any birthday had found him in years. He taught his class as usual, allowed friends to take him to lunch, opened the stack of birthday cards that had been piling up for several days, and reassured his favorite niece that he really did have a date for that night and he would be happy to see her at the party his friends were giving him that weekend.
He had pondered what to wear for weeks, even trying several different outfits in front of the mirror as he used to do for a first date. In the end he wore what he had worn all day: pressed jeans, a polo shirt, and a tweed blazer. His professor disguise, as he called it. He checked into the hotel feeling surprisingly calm and even managed a short nap on the enormous bed before waking up when room service knocked to deliver the champagne and canapés that came with the suite.
Less than ten minutes later, there was another knock, and Don’s heart jumped, his calm deserting him. He gave himself a final glance in the mirror, the habit of so many first dates, before opening the door.
Tommy Tusker walked in wearing the ubiquitous tight 501s, T-shirt, and leather jacket, a small bag slung over his shoulder. The uniform may have been perfunctory, but Don wouldn’t have had it any other way. The outfit was popular because it was sexy and became a man’s frame, especially a hot young man like the one before him extending his hand and smiling broadly as if genuinely happy to see him.
“Don?”
“Yes,” answered Don, shaking the offered hand. “Tommy, it’s good to meet you.”
“Likewise. I’ve been looking forward to this trip since you wrote to me.”
He was as handsome as Don had expected, and even sexier than he was on video, if perhaps a bit shorter, though this was hardly a disappointment. His dark hair seemed lighter than on video, as was his beard, but this was incidental.
“Not as much as I have.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Tom stepping closer to Don. “I think this is pretty darn special.”
He kissed Don fully on the mouth, the softness of his lips and the bristle of the beard providing the contrast that Don found irresistible. Don kissed him back, held him in his arms for several minutes before disengaging, breathless and afraid of rushing too soon into what he was now even more certain was to come. He was perhaps old fashioned in some ways, and on any first date Don liked to take it slow.
“Happy birthday,” offered Tommy.
“Thanks. I, that is, I…champagne?”
“Sure. Why don’t you sit down and relax. Let me get the champagne.”
Don sat on the loveseat facing the floor-to-ceiling window: downtown Seattle, Puget Sound, the Olympic Mountains, and the setting sun were spread before him like a living backdrop. A moment later Tommy was sitting next to him, handing him his champagne, still smiling at him.
“This is nice,” said Tommy, looking around. “Nice room, beautiful view, hot Daddy. Thanks for asking me.”
“My pleasure, Tommy. You know, you’re even handsomer in real life.”
Tommy blushed, even broke eye contact a moment, before reaching up to touch Don’s face, stroking Don’s stubble, as if to say that his touch were the only thanks he could give for the compliment, a gesture so intimate that for a split second Don forgot to breathe.
The sun was setting, and at that instant the very air took on a golden tone, then red-gold, then red, then violet. Neither could speak for several moments as they sat quietly in the shifting light followed by the purple-shadowed dark, both men in awe of the twilight’s beauty. Then Don realized that he had his arm around Tommy, that Tommy’s head was leaning against his chest as if they had known each other for years, as if what was about to happen was not mere sex, but intimacy. Tommy lifted his face to Don’s and Don kissed him again, almost tentatively. This time they let their kisses linger, let their tongues explore each other, let their mouths make friends as they hadn’t done before.
Tommy’s hands deftly explored Don’s body as they kissed, and he murmured his approval on discerning the size and hardness of Don’s dick. He slowly undressed Don, kissing his nipples, sucking his cock, and licking his balls as he did. Then he led Don by the hand up the few steps to the bed, sat him down, and turned on a single lamp. Standing beneath that one light Tommy undressed, slowly and teasingly, touching himself as he did, looking at Don and smiling the whole time, promising pleasure and affection and the touch that heals all wounds. He paused in the light, naked and erect, turning this way and that to show off the solidness of his build, the implied strength of his arms, back, and chest. Bending over, then squatting, he displayed his thick, hard legs and magnificent butt.
Done posing, Tommy approached Don and knelt in front of him. Tommy smiled a moment, looking pleased with what he saw, before opening his mouth and taking most of Don’s huge cock down his throat with one try. Alternating between a deep-throat and a hand-and-mouth technique that sent shudders up and down Don’s spine for what seemed like hours, Tommy got greedy and even gagged on the cock at times, slurping and moaning his appreciation for what he was sucking. Alert to every change in Don’s body and demeanor, Tommy knew when Don had danced on the edge long enough. He paused and looked up at Don, still stroking the beautiful fat cock.
“What do you want me to do, Daddy? It’s your birthday and you get to call the shots. You’ve got an awesome Daddy dick. Are you going to fuck me with it? Man, I’d really like that. I bet you’d make me cum buckets if you fucked me. Or do you want to suck my cock for a while? Look how hard it is. You’ve got me so turned on.”
Don pulled Tommy off his knees and kissed him again, guided him over onto the bed and touched him all over, caressed the supple smooth skin, the soft silky hair that covered his muscular chest, torso, butt, and legs. With every kiss he tasted Tommy’s youth, his beauty.
“You’re so fucking hot I can’t stand it,” whispered Don. “You’re so handsome. I can’t believe this is real.”
“Fucking hot Daddy. Man, oh man, I’m a lucky boy.”
Don tried to delay the inevitable, to keep himself from fucking Tommy too soon. He sucked Tommy’s beautiful cock with its coral head dripping salty honey, licked the smooth balls that felt almost as tumescent as his cock. Finally he rolled Tommy over on his stomach and pried the furry melons apart before tasting the finest, pinkest fuckhole Don had ever seen. It was even prettier in person, already moist and glistening, asking for attention. Don dove in head first, tongue extended. The hole opened to him, clean and sweet. Don’s nose sniffed the soft hair it was buried in, musky and fine, another aphrodisiac that made his cock ache as it hadn’t ached in years, arching upward like a wand in the hand of Merlin, demanding notice. Ever so slowly, Don kissed his way upward, over the smooth muscular back, licking the black-inked deltoids and traps. All on its own, his cock found the nest it was looking for, the hot wet pinkness that opened up to it, that swallowed him even as Tommy gasped in pain.
On hearing Tommy’s small cry, Don stopped, waited wordlessly for the nod and sigh that said to go ahead. Don proceeded slowly, kissing Tommy’s neck and ears, all the while whispering the endearments of a mind clouded by desire: “Oh, baby, oh, baby. It feels so good. You’re so fucking hot. Your butt is so amazing. Oh, baby, oh, baby…”
Don increased the pace slightly, watching Tommy’s profile as he did, looking for signs of Tommy’s pleasure, Tommy’s delight in what was happening inside his body, this merging of men, the melding of generations, the mixing of bodily juices inside the cauldron that was Tommy’s fuckhole.
Sweat poured off of Don, sweat that formed a slick layer between the two bodies moving in sync with a shared desire that was already far past stopping.
“Oh, yeah, Daddy,” Tommy whimpered. “Oh, fuck yeah, Dad. It feels so fucking good. It’s so damn big it hurts but it feels so good. Daddy, Daddy…”
Don had heard these words countless times before, but it still turned him on, as all men with big dicks are turned on by the praise of their members. It was nothing new, but the voice saying the words, Tommy’s voice, was young and fresh, manly and lustful. Aging men might want to see themselves through a new lover’s eyes, but they also want to hear their praises sung by a new voice, a young voice that echoed their own desires and banished their fears.
Don fucked Tommy as he knew he had to, twirling Tommy’s body around on his cock, changing positions every few minutes, making Tommy cry out in pain and pleasure each time Don shifted Tommy’s body to increase their shared joy. Don was a masterful fuck, always had been, earning a reputation for a prowess and technique that had once produced a well-beaten path to his door. It was all beautifully familiar to Don: the sound of two sweaty bodies slapping together, Tommy’s cries of delight, his own moans as he headed toward climax, the smell of man sex permeating the room.
With one of Tommy’s legs over his shoulder, with one knee on the bed and his other leg extended behind him, Don was racing toward home when he heard Tommy cry:
“Can I cum, Daddy? Please, Dad? I’m so close.”
“Yeah,” came Don’s voice, so hoarse he almost didn’t recognize it. “Yeah, baby. Cum now!”
Tommy’s cock arched in the air, and with no hands helping it, spewed lava-hot jizz across their bodies and all over the bed, hitting the headboard and the lampshade where it clung and sizzled in the heat of the bulb. At the same moment, Don roared, flung back his head, arched his body, and shot his wad. They both felt his cock convulse inside of Tommy, felt the ribbons of semen spew deep inside Tommy’s body.
Without disengaging, Don collapsed on top of Tommy, whispering incoherently as he waited to catch his breath, as Tommy murmured yet more praise for what had been twenty minutes of transient exultation.
“Oh my fucking god,” was all Don could say.
“Hot Daddy,” Tommy responded. “Fucking hot Daddy.”
They kissed for a few minutes as they felt Don’s cock go limp inside Tommy, as it finally withdrew with a small audible pop, as they both felt Don’s cum dribbling out of Tommy’s fuckhole.
While Tommy showered, Don counted out the money, plus a tip, and put it in an envelope that he laid next to Tommy’s leather jacket. Later, after Don had showered and they were ready to go to dinner, Don saw that the envelope had moved to the night table but was still unopened.
At the hotel room, neither had done more than taste the champagne that had eventually gone flat and warm, while the canapés went stale, as they had fucked themselves into oblivion. Now, over wine with dinner at a French bistro near the Market, Tommy chatted easily, talked about his friends and family, answered questions about making videos, and flirted with Don the whole while, never losing eye contact for more than a few seconds at a time. Don thought back to a time at the Folsom Street Fair, ten or more years before, when he’d seen a popular porn star of the day looking bored and annoyed with the small, obsequious man who had obviously paid him for his company that afternoon. Tommy was so different, even holding Don’s hand across the table, offering what felt like genuine, if limited, affection.
After dinner, Tommy took Don’s hand again as they walked through the steep narrow streets just above the Market
“This has been fun, Dad. Thanks again for inviting me.”
“I’m glad you had fun, too. I hope you did, anyway.”
“Oh, I’ve had fun. You saw me cum, didn’t you? And that was a great dinner, too. Really great. Good sex, good food, a hot Daddy. Who could ask for more?”
Don wanted to ask if Tommy didn’t get taken out a lot, but didn’t dare risk shattering the fragile illusion that Tommy was there for any reason other than money. But why was he being so genuinely nice? Don hadn’t expected to be kissed, or touched with such tenderness, or even to hear the kind of language, obscene with desire and longing, that he had heard from Tommy. How much was genuine appreciation, if only an appreciation for being appreciated? If Don had treated Tommy like a whore, would he have been offered as much of Tommy’s natural geniality and pleasure in another man’s touch? Don wanted to think Tommy was responding to his genuine appreciation of him, that Tommy might even enjoy Don’s company because of it.
“You’ve made this birthday a really happy one, Tommy. Thank you.”
“Ted. My real name is Ted. I wish you’d call me that.”
“Ted. I’ve always liked that name. One of my lovers was a Ted.”
“And you called him your Teddy Bear, right?”
“You know I did.”
“All guys named Ted are called Teddy Bear.”
“Yes, probably they are, Ted. It will take a little while to get used to your real name. Forgive me if I forget and call you Tommy.”
Ted looped his arm through Don’s, drawing himself closer for warmth.
“It’s cold here. I forget how much colder than San Francisco Seattle is this time of year.”
Don hailed a cab and they went back to the hotel. Wanting to prolong the evening, Don suggested a drink in the bar. Don ordered a whisky and Ted asked for a Perrier. The bar was elegant in an overpriced, expensive-hotel kind of way, and sparsely filled. They were the only male couple in the room, making Don feel suddenly very old and very odd, and certain that he was being judged. Who would look at them and not know Ted was being paid? Don downed his whisky and suggested they head back to their room.
They slipped into bed together and Ted, naked and beautiful, cuddled next to him, rubbing Don’s chest.
“My butt’s sore, but we can do it again if you want. I kind of like getting fucked when my butt is still feeling tender from the last fuck. It turns me on.”
“No, that’s okay, baby. Dad’s tired. Maybe in the morning.”
Even as said this, he knew it wouldn’t happen: that fuck had drained him for a day or two to come.
“Goodnight, Dad. Happy birthday.”
“Goodnight, baby.”
They kissed one last time.
It was only as he drifted off to sleep that Don realized he had forgotten to take his hard-on pill that afternoon. Tommy’s sweetness, even more than this youth, had been better than any pill.
When Don woke up around noon, he was alone. Ted/Tommy and the envelope of money were gone. On the desk was an autographed studio photo inscribed:To Daddy Don from his boy Tommy Tucker.
A nice touch, Don thought: a little bonus. He ordered breakfast from room service and was heading back into the shower when he noticed that there was also a note on the nightstand:Dear Don,
You were sleeping so soundly and I didn’t want to wake you. And I hate saying good-bye when I’ve had such a good time and really, really like someone as much I like you. You’re such a great guy, such a hot Daddy, you should be loved by someone 24/7. I hope you are.
Your friend,
Ted
Don smiled, almost wept, but was in fact not disappointed by Ted’s absence. The morning would’ve been an anticlimax, a bitter aftertaste when they finally said good-bye. Ted was wiser than his years, kinder than he needed to be. He hoped Ted’s heart would never be too badly bruised, at least not more than was absolutely inevitable.
Since it was yet another beautiful autumn day, and perhaps the last sunny day for months, Don decided to walk, heading up Pike Street toward Capital Hill and home. Happier than he was sad on reaching this time in his life, thinking of all those he had known who never made it to fifty, let along sixty, he embraced his age and the city he called home. For all he knew, he might be the envy of many. Lost in these thoughts, he didn’t hear someone call his name until the second, louder, closer call.
“Don! How you doing? Haven’t seen you in forever.”
