My name is John. I am 71 years old and I live in West Lothian. Out of discretion I will not identify my specific location.
I have been on Fabguys for sometime now but have only met one guy. That was my first experience with a man.
It was a short meeting and my main memory was the solid warmth of his thick cock, first in my hands and then in my mouth, filling it as his hands clasped the back of my head.
I remember his moaning as he pushed in and out of me, the strange taste of his precum and then the louder grunting as he came close.
Fortunately he slipped out of me to just seconds before he came and his warm spunk splattered over my face and neck, just a small amount between my lips and on my tongue.
He finished by pushing his cock deep inside my mouth, holding it there for several minutes before withdrawing completely.
Looking back, I realise how much I had enjoyed the sense of being there to give this man pleasure, almost offering my body to him, letting him be in charge.
We had kept in touch but, so far, I had not received a second invitation.
It had been a month since and I had spent so much time on Fabguys, reading Forum stories, profiles, watching videos and chatting hopefully to other guys.
And masturbating as I lived out my fantasies alone in bed.
Then I found George. He was older than me, married and a regular visitor to Edinburgh.
In our chats he encouraged me to tell him about my fantasies. Basically I wanted to find a gentle masculine lover who take charge of me, not by force or strength but by personality.
I would be like his girl friend, eager to please him,
I would dress for him.
I would bring out the man in him and my body, all of it would be his.
And now it was about to happen. George was visiting Edinburgh for the weekend.
He had bought a collection of women’s clothes for me, lingerie, a skirt, tops, shoes.
I had given him my body measurements so everything should fit.
His hotel was on Princes Sreet and Ihe asked me to meet him in the hotel lounge at 7pm on Friday evening,
I will now describe how the evening progressed.
It is a few minutes before 7pm. I am nervously walking along Princes Street. I pass the hotel entrance.
Three times I walk past, too nervous to enter.
My phone pings. A message from George. ‘Are you coming?’
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