"I was 21, freshly out of college, living at home and still pretending to myself that I was straigh., not bi. The lie had started to feel like sandpaper against my skin every time I jerked off alone in the dark, scrolling through anonymous hookup ads on my phone. One night, after too many beers and a long, aching week of loneliness, I answered one.
The ad was simple: “Masc guy, 38, hosting at my place. First-timers welcome. Discreet. Looking for a younger guy who wants to explore.” His username was just “TopDad4U.” I typed back before I could chicken out: “21, never done anything with a guy. Nervous as hell but curious.” He replied almost instantly with his address and a time—9 p.m. the next night. No pictures, no pressure. Just “Come over. We’ll go slow.”
I spent the entire next day in a fog of panic and excitement. I showered three times, trimmed everything, changed my shirt four times, and almost backed out twice. At 8:45 I was sitting in my car outside his suburban house, heart hammering so hard I could feel it in my throat. The street was quiet, porch lights glowing softly. I told myself if I didn’t go in now I’d regret it forever. So I walked up the path on shaky legs and knocked.
He opened the door wearing a plain gray T-shirt and jeans, barefoot. He was taller than I expected—maybe 6’2”—with salt-and-pepper hair, a trimmed beard, and kind brown eyes that crinkled when he smiled. “Hey, you must be my date,” he said, voice low and warm. “I am Come on in.” he said.
The house smelled like coffee and something woodsy. He led me to the living room, offered me a beer, and we sat on opposite ends of a big leather couch. For twenty minutes we just talked—about my shitty entry-level job, his work in graphic design, how he’d been out since he was my age. Every time our eyes met I felt my face burn. He never pushed. He just listened, smiled, and let the silence stretch until I finally said, voice cracking, “I’ve never kissed a guy before.”
Mark set his beer down. “Want to try?”
I nodded.
He slid closer, slow enough that I could have stopped him. His hand came up, cupped the back of my neck gently, and then his lips were on mine. Soft at first—just a press, warm and dry. Then he tilted his head and the kiss deepened. His tongue brushed my bottom lip and I opened for him without thinking. The taste of him—beer and mint—flooded my mouth and something electric shot straight down my spine. I made a small, helpless sound and he pulled back just enough to whisper, “Good?”
“Yeah,” I breathed. “Really good.”
We kissed for what felt like hours, slow and deep, bodies inching closer until I was practically in his lap. My hands found his chest, feeling the solid warmth of him through his shirt. When he tugged my shirt up and off I didn’t hesitate. Skin on skin felt insane—his chest hair tickling my nipples, the heat of his stomach against mine. He kissed down my neck, sucked lightly at the spot where my shoulder met my throat, and I was already rock-hard in my jeans.
“Bedroom?” he asked against my ear.
I could only nod.
His bedroom was dim, lit by a single lamp. We stripped each other between kisses, clumsy and eager. When I finally saw him naked—thick cock already hard, heavy balls, a trail of dark hair leading down—I felt a rush of pure want mixed with terror. He was bigger than me, thicker, and I had no idea how any of this was supposed to feel.
We fell onto the bed. Mark rolled me onto my back and kissed me again, slower now, while his hand wrapped around both our cocks, stroking us together. The friction was slick and perfect. Then he moved down my body, licking and sucking until his mouth closed over the head of my dick. I gasped, hips jerking. No one had ever sucked me like that—wet, warm, no hesitation. He took me deep, throat working, one hand rolling my balls while the other teased between my cheeks. When his tongue first brushed my hole I jolted.
“Relax,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”
He pushed my knees up and back, exposing me completely. Then his tongue was there—hot, wet, circling my virgin hole with slow, deliberate strokes. Rimming. I had read the word a thousand times online but nothing prepared me for the actual feeling. It was filthy and intimate and so good I couldn’t stop the moans spilling out of me. Every lick sent sparks up my spine. When he pointed his tongue and pushed inside me I nearly came on the spot. My cock leaked steadily onto my stomach while he ate me out like he had all night, humming against my skin, one finger eventually sliding in alongside his tongue. The stretch burned for a second, then melted into this deep, aching fullness that made my toes curl.
“Flip over,” he said after a while, voice rough. “I want to taste you while you taste me.”
We moved into a sixty-nine, me on top, shaky and eager. His cock was right in front of my face—thick, veined, the head glistening. I wrapped my lips around it and tried to take as much as I could. The taste was salty and clean; the weight of him on my tongue felt strangely right. At the same time his mouth found my hole again, tongue fucking in and out while I sucked him sloppily, drooling down his shaft. We stayed like that for long minutes, moaning around each other, hips rocking. I felt completely lost in it—pleasure feeding pleasure in a loop that made my brain short-circuit.
Finally Mark pulled off with a wet pop. “I want to fuck you, Alex. I want to be the first one inside you. But only if you’re sure.”
I was trembling, but I nodded. “Please.”
He grabbed lube and a condom from the nightstand. I stayed on my back, knees pulled up, watching him roll the condom on and slick himself up. Then he pressed two fingers into me again, scissoring gently, opening me up until I was panting and pushing back against his hand. When he lined up the thick head of his cock against my hole I held my breath.
“Push out a little,” he coached. “Breathe.”
I did. The first inch burned—sharp, stretching pressure that made me whimper. He stopped, kissed me softly, waited. “You’re doing so good,” he whispered. “So tight and perfect.”
Slowly, patiently, he fed me the rest of his cock. Inch by inch I felt myself open around him until his hips were flush against my ass and I was full in a way I’d never imagined. The fullness was overwhelming—almost too much, like my body wasn’t built for it—but underneath the burn was this deep, throbbing pleasure that made my own cock twitch and leak. Mark stayed still, buried to the hilt, kissing my neck and telling me how good I felt, how hot and tight I was around him.
When he finally started to move—slow, shallow thrusts at first—I thought I might cry from how intense it was. Every drag of his cock over that spot inside me sent lightning through my body. My prostate. I’d heard the word but never understood until that moment. Each thrust lit it up and I started moaning louder, hips rolling to meet him without meaning to. The burn faded into pure heat. He picked up speed, fucking me deeper, harder, the slap of skin on skin and the wet sound of lube filling the room. I wrapped my legs around his waist and held on, lost in the feeling of being taken, claimed, filled over and over.
Mark reached between us and stroked my cock in time with his thrusts. “Come for me,” he growled. “Want to feel you come while I’m inside you.”
I lasted maybe thirty more seconds. The orgasm hit me like a freight train—waves of pleasure so strong my vision whited out. I shot across my chest, my hole clenching rhythmically around his cock. Mark groaned, buried himself deep, and came hard inside the condom, hips stuttering against me.
We stayed locked together for a long time, breathing hard, sweaty and trembling. When he finally pulled out I felt empty and strangely proud. A little sore, yeah, but in the best way—like my body had just learned something brand new and incredible.
He cleaned us up gently, pulled me against his chest, and kissed the top of my head. “You okay?”
I laughed, a little shaky. “Better than okay. That was… I didn’t know it could feel like that.”
We talked quietly for another hour, naked and tangled in his sheets. I left around midnight with his number in my phone and the taste of him still on my lips. Driving home, ass tender and buzzing, I couldn’t stop smiling. For the first time in my life I didn’t feel ashamed of wanting this. I just felt alive.
And I knew it was only the beginning."
That bit you said about not stopping smiling was exactly what happened to me after my 1st time.
I left him in the hotel room and took myself for a walk to the Burger King next door. I ordered and just sat there with the maddest grin on my face I'd ever had. |
loved it
nice i hope some one takes me that way
