Date: Sun, 22 Aug 2004 13:35:53 -0700 (PDT)
From: 69
Subject: Blake

What can be said about a beautiful specimen of humanity? He's the best
looking thing I've seen? He's so hot? I'd love to get him in the sack?

Such colloquialisms are lacking at best to describe the soul wrenching
effect a young teen can have on a man over 40. OK, I agree, not just a
young teen, a beautiful young teen, not quite handsome as he is boyishly
cute with large green eyes, short-cropped light brown hair, ripped
muscles, confident and above all sexy with a capital X. Why is that
attraction there? What is the reason I would seek out a companion young
enough to be my son? Why would he seek me, old enough to be his father?
Should anyone really care or dare?

The honest truth is that Blake found me, liked me, and worked diligently
at meeting me. All I did was put an ad on one of the multi-gender dating
web sites, and he nabbed me.

To describe Blake and say that he was cute would paint an image of an
18-year-old boy who could hold your gaze for hours, kiss like your first
girl friend, and make love to you for two hours leaving you still begging
for more. If that is the image you have of Blake then you're nearly on
target. Tall, smooth, very thin, and a huge package of manhood would
round out the picture. The only hair except on his head was under his
arms and around his very thick 7-inch dick with a tousle of hair on his
ass. I'd never think of balls as cute, but his were: just cute.

I desired to be with Blake more than anything; fell for him the first
second I saw his photograph and knew that I had to be careful not to fuck
up the rest of my already complicated life. To love that boy and maintain
a healthy relationship with him had to be simple, but it wasn't. I'd
spend the rest of my life with him if he had wanted; but I won't, or
more precisely, I couldn't. Besides, to him, I was just an experiment, a
chance to explore another facet of sex and sexuality or maybe not,
perhaps more.

He was an extremely intelligent boy, probably too smart for his own good,
being from a broken family, living with a step-dad who could give a crap
about what he does or did, and a mom who was freaked out about everything
he ever did. But to lie next to Blake and look into his eyes, gaze upon
his youthful face, desire then touch his smooth soft skin caused me to
connect to his gentle nature and become his life companion. At least,
that was how I decided I wanted to love Blake. Whether next to him under
the covers or 250 miles away while he was at college, I would be there
for him, take his call or chat with him when he was lonely. He needed
someone with whom he could be grounded, a safety net during his bisexual
exploration. It didn't bother me that he was seeing other girls and
guys, for I had a hand in helping him develop his sexuality. Being
bisexual, 18, and dealing with those complicated dynamics took a lot of
guts on his part -- no other way to describe it. He handled it like an
adult, planning, thinking, talking, but when we finally did hook up, oh
my god, it was the only part of this affair that was simple and very hot.

We first met chatting on the web. It went on for several days and hours
until we finally had to force the issue and get together in a hotel for
an evening. The business of getting the hotel room was simple, pay cash,
get key. Waiting for that knock on the door, however, and he being on the
other side was the worst 30 minutes of my life. I flipped through every
channel on the TV, drank two glasses of wine, undressed, got dressed,
brushed my teeth, washed my feet; had I a jigsaw puzzle I probably would
have solved it twice. I couldn't bare the suspense, the anticipation;
but I knew that he was worth it, not from what I saw in the photographs
he sent me, not because he was so cute and sexy, but in the Internet
messaging we did for countless hours, in the emails we exchanged, and in
the cell phone conversations we would have; that was where I found the
core of my desire for him.

To talk to Blake on the cell phone was the highlight of my day, having
waited anxiously for it to ring. He didn't have a deep voice, but a
whiny thin voice that was as pure and sexy as it could be. I loved to
listen to him ramble on, as we yakked about his day, what he had planned,
where he was going, where he had been. We talked about a girl he really
liked and some cool moves to try to get her to go out with him.

The knock finally came; a simple little knock of three beats. I froze
where I stood. "My god, I'm really nervous." I thought to myself. I
walked over to the door and peered through the peephole. It was Blake. It
seemed like it took me forever to open the door, but in that space of
about 2 seconds, I finally was getting what I desired most.

With the rattle of the lock and jingle of the safety latch, the door
swung open.

There he was. If ever would I have heart failure that would have been the
moment. Slow motion. He glided into the room; never would I have known if
his feet touched the floor for my concentration was fixed on his pure
visage. He blinked; oh my god even that was sexy. His walk and stance was
a profound realization of confidence. He stood looking at me a half smirk
on his face, putting away his sunglasses.

"Uh, close the door." He said.

"Oh, right." Well, there you have it; I'm an idiot.

Blake was about 5' 10", 140 pounds, stacked, and lean. His pure skin
was unblemished, white, with traces of pink and some tanning. In the few
seconds I stood there, soaking all of his being into my memory, wanting
to be with him day after day for the rest of my life, the desire I had
felt for him only ballooned into a monstrous rush of lust, passion, and
nervous anticipation. But, I somehow managed to contain myself and utter
the best choices of words known to man, "How are you?"

"I am good. You?"

"A little nervous. Does it show?"

"Nah. Not at all."

At that I walked up to him and hugged him and kissed him on his face near
his ear then stood back a step. "I'm glad you are here, Blake," my
hands on his shoulders. "I've been a nervous wreck waiting for you. Are
you nervous?"

"I am."

"Don't be. We belong here, together. Sit down, I'll pour some wine."

He took a seat in the armchair closest to the door and watched as I
popped the cork and poured the blood red wine into the glass.

"Is this good? I usually don't drink wine."

"Well, it's a Pinot Noir, 1996, a very good year for this vineyard.
I've always saved this vintage for special occasions and very special
people. I handed him a glass, and lifted mine to him. "Cheers," I said,
felling a little sexy.

He put the glass to his lips and took and little sip, "Ohhh, this is
good." Blake licked his lips and then took a few more sips. "Are you
going to teach me what to do?"

"Yeah, it's a good first time wine, for those who are having a good
first time. Of course, we're going to take it nice and slow and
celebrate...you."

I put my glass down and offered my hand to help him stand. Then I moved
behind him and slipped my arms around his torso and hugged him, my head
on his firm and solid shoulder. I smelled his hair taking in my
boy-lover. My hand on his pecs, feeling the beat of his pounding heart,
feeling his soul as it emanated from his chest, I kissed the back of his
head. My mind was slipping into a lover's trance, inspiring me to lean
down to his neck and began to kiss and make tiny circles on his soft warm
skin. He responded with a quiet moan, a deep breath, and leaned his head
giving way to our rising passion. Kissing up his neck behind his ear,
back down his neck, the heaviness of long repressed desire urged me
forward.

Not wanting to rush, I let my hands follow his thin but strong arms and
explored up and down the sides of his torso. "Hot. Just plain down right
hot," were the only words that I could find to describe my young lover.
Blake was responding nicely, his breathing quickening as I took great
care to keep the pace moving very slowly. We had just about 2 hours to be
together, to make out, to make love, to laugh, cry, hold each other or
just whatever we felt we needed.

My hands began to wonder over his T-shirt feeling his strong pecs beneath
the fabric, the rise and fall of his breathing, and the rippled muscles
on his abdomen. To let only one hand in, I pulled a little of his T-shirt
from his jeans and felt for the first time, the true softness of his
skin. It was then that the profundity of lovemaking took over, age, time,
reason, rationality all melted into the passion and sensuality that was
my lover and I.

My hand under his shirt, against his skin, pressed against his hot,
smooth chest, feeling the awesomeness of flexing, powerful muscles. He
leaned his head against me as he gave way and lost himself in our
connected timelessness. I placed my free hand under his chin and lifted
his face to mine. With a single, simple touch, our lips met, unlocking
restrained, burning fire. Building, breathing, holding him close to me,
his back pressed against my chest, our tongues entwined, our lips spoke
no words but tingled in the heated exchange.

I pulled the rest of his T-shirt from his jeans and exposed his ripped
chest to the cool air. His nipples hardened, and the muscular smoothness
of his body heaved as my hands explored. I lightly bushed his nipple with
my fingers; the hairs stood on his neck. His breathing was growing
erratic, moaning, sighing.

Blake turned to face me, pulled me close, and locked me into a French
kiss to end all kisses. He had asked me to instruct him in the fine art
of the kiss, but now who was the pupil? I was lost in the moment, swept
away, tasting his sweet soft kisses, feeling his body move, following his
lead, learning how to be young again. His arms held me tightly as we
continued our embrace. In one bold move, I lifted his shirt over his
head; from his long and muscular arms, it fell on the floor, a wilted
hump of cotton. In turn, he began unbuttoning my shirt, slowly revealing
my near hairless chest, less my spirit, the only remnant of youth I
possessed. He slipped his hands around me, hugging me, his face against
my shoulder. There was no expression in words I could craft; only my
hands holding his head next to me, close, closer than someone should be,
so young, so pure. It was certain that the rift in age was
insurmountable, and I chose at that moment to contemplate what I was
doing. The events, actions, decisions that made up my life, my being, the
long history of "me" were merging into a position among the lesser
important. My heart for the moment, for that instance of passion,
belonged to Blake, my beautiful Blake.

He lifted his head and took from me one more kiss then slipped my shirt
off, dropping it onto the floor next to his. When our naked torsos
touched for the first time, my skin set afire, and my hands found his
firm ass and squeezed and held it. Before him in all his youthful glory,
I fell to my knees and planted my face into his abdomen, kissing,
licking, biting, sucking. A narrow line of soft hair streamed from his
navel, disappearing beneath the waistband of his dark boxers, and on that
line I traced with the tip of my moist tongue down and up maybe 100
times; in that building frenzy, he moaned, let out a sexy wanton breath,
placing his hands on my head.

With my teeth and tongue, I unbuttoned his jeans and let them slip down
just a bit; his breathing was becoming strained, the mound of flesh
pressing against the fabric of those jeans was enormous, but to be
released only in due time. Time has no measure for an impassioned youth;
burning rapidly, destroying, rebuilding, and destroying again, he carries
only the essential to his mate -- his burning desire. But, wisdom, born
upon the death of the last vein of youth, yields a precise measurement of
time and spends it wisely as it has become precious, too little to waste.
Taming, holding, prolonging, I slip only a few clicks of his zipper down.

Blake was in pain, his heart ripping from his chest, sweat forming on his
body sweet and salty. He grabbed a handful of my hair and jerked back my
head, leaned over to kiss me one more time, then looked upon me with
wildness only imaginable in the fit of rage.

"My god. This boy is hot!" I thought to myself. "He is just going to
explode."

He slammed my head into his crotch. I could feel his engorged manhood
against my cheek, but I resisted. I withstood his cry for release and
continued my role line-by-line and unzipped his pants only 4 more hooks
of the zipper, slipping his pants down only another inch. He was
trembling against my steady, guiding hand of restraint. I began to kiss
around the waistband of his underwear, letting my tongue slip under the
elastic every other kiss, seeking to taste the secrets of his skin, to
experience the silky texture.

I continued to hold to his behind and was fascinated at its firmness; how
I wanted my face near that ass, kissing its soft skin, toying with the
fuzzy hair that covered it. Blake's was in no uncertain terms, very
cute. My mind whirled into a spin of desire as the scent from his manhood
began to rise from beneath his boxers. "Fight," I urged myself,
"Restrain." His body, unknown to him, was launching an assault against
my psyche to free him, rip the clothes from his body, succumb to desire,
and throw my lover into the maddening mindlessness of release, wasted in
the fury of haste. "Restrain," I groaned, breathy, and weak.

In an unexpected move, Blake moved away from me, pulled off his shorts
and plopped down on the bed. I at first was shocked by the sudden break
in passion, but immediately I focused in on the "love line" from his
navel to his boxers.

"Thank you for making all this happen today. It really means a lot to
me." He said, voice slightly trembling.

I sat on the sofa nearby, unsure of my next move, or his. "No problem,
Blake. I should be the one thanking you for taking an interest in me, and
hell, you're way cuter in person. Oh, by the way, I brought some toys,
nothing too serious, condoms, lube."

"Thanks," he said, and leaned back on his elbows, revealing the long
mound tenting in his underwear.

I handed him a black plastic sack. He took a quick look inside and pulled
out the contents, two tubes of lube and three boxes of rubbers.

"It's different kinds. Just what you asked for."

"Cool. Thanks." He said, propping up as I approached the bed.

"Here," I said as I handed him the pack of lambskin condoms. "These
are for you to use on your girl friend. They won't protect you from HIV,
but they will keep her from getting `el prego.'" He took the small
package and studied it closely. "Always use these latex ones when buddy
fucking or fucking some slut."

"Hey this is cool. I never knew the difference."

"Yeah. We'll get to use some of these in a few minutes I hope." I
couldn't help throwing that line in.

Something moved me to sit on the bed and crawl behind him then put my
hands on his awesome shoulders, massaging away his nervousness. They felt
soft and sexy under my hands. I had him lie back against my chest. As my
hands caressed his smooth chest, I let my fingers trace the hard outlines
of his abdomen and down to his underwear waistband. We kept chatting.

"How was school today?" I asked, feeling that I needed to connect with
him on anything that was bothering him.

"It was stressful. I'm mean besides having to deal with repressing my
excitement about meeting you today, but we had a bomb threat at school,
my mom is freaking out about me being away from the house for so long
tonight, and a girl I've been trying to ask out just announced to me her
new boy friend."

"Wow, Blake. You have a lot on your mind. Well, let's get all that
worked out of you." I started rubbing his chest more, and trying to help
him release all his pent up tension. He let out a soft sign, and I felt
him release his weight against me. I toyed with his nipples and traced
the length of his waistband again.

"So, what's she like," I asked.

"Well, beautiful, super smile, and brunette hair, but not so
Mediterranean."

"Mediterranean?" I was charmed by his innocent worldliness, wanting him
to go on in his description of her, but didn't want to seem to be too
freaky about it.

"Well, yeah. You know, hairy underarms. That all sucks to me."

"Ah right, I see. So, you want to fuck her?"

"That's the plan."

"First love. Oh man, what a time. Just take it nice and slow. Girls take
longer to get into it."

"Yeah."

I let my hand brush against his thighs and across his straining manhood.
"Huge" was the only word I could think of as I rubbed it lightly
through his boxers and cupped my hand around his balls. He nestled his
head against my chest. I lifted his face to mine and again, we kissed; oh
the softness and sweetness of those lips. I never thought I would kiss
another man, but Blake, was beyond all of my inhibitions.

As I moved away a little, he laid back on the bed, his beautiful body
stretched out. I rolled him over and immediately began kissing and
caressing his back, around his shoulders, down his spine, to his boxers.
I pulled them down just a little to allow the subtle impression of his
cheeks to be exposed. There I kissed and made little circles with my
tongue as he moaned and moved his head to be more comfortable on the
pillows. From that I took it that he was mine.

I removed my shorts and underpants and laid down next to him, rolled him
over so his back was against my chest, and held him while caressing his
legs, his ass, sides and his pubic mound. My fingers brushed against his
dick as I tangled my fingers in his short trimmed bush. He seemed content
next to me, breathing softly. My hand met his, and I held it tightly. He
didn't fight my secure embrace but let his passion become absorbed
within mine.

All the while in that hotel room some miles from anywhere important, in a
comfortable king-sized bed, atop crisp clean sheets, the world was
whirring by worrisome and frantic, but amongst those four walls time
stood still. Peace settled around us and the rush of racing hearts and
swelling manhood took control.

I rose to my elbow and leaned over Blake; our lips met in soft kisses
followed by little pecks over his face, and the thin delicate beard on
his chin. Had I closed my eyes, it might have been a totally different
experience, but with eyes wide open, I took in every instance of his
face, eyes rolled back in his head, soul as lost as mine. His breathing
was quiet, comforted. His hips stirred as I thrust my engorged manhood
against his rear. Our kiss continued, even as he rolled to his back, and
I took him in my arms, holding him. Our kiss broke, nipping at his
cheeks, down his neck, across his chest, to his nipples, and further
down. At his navel, I paused. Again the scent of his youthful manhood
aroused me awakening and inciting a vengeance upon repressed emotion,
squeezing the very nature of my soul into a new form, a new existence, a
new happiness.

A line of light brown hair streaming upward to his navel was in sight and
more that I could resist. I met it with my tongue and tasted its texture
and the soft silkiness of the skin below. Tracing it up and down, my mind
was focused on what lie beneath his blue-tented boxers. A wet spot of
precum on the fabric gave me all the evidence I needed that he was turned
on. I let my hands trace the huge mound of flesh that was his manhood.
Thick, thick, thick. Oh my god. He was so hot. Not only was he cute, his
was truly blessed where it counted. I wrapped my hand around his dick,
still covered by the fabric of his boxers, and I pulled down his
waistband enough to expose his pubic hair, nuzzled my nose in its course
but soft texture, and inhaled all that was before me.

His legs, whether by instinct or passion, spread wider; his hands urged
my head lower. I responded and released his hardness from the confining
cloth. It was large, hard, soft and perfectly pink. The smell of it was
at most uninspiring, but the taste of the soft skin that encircled the
throbbing shaft was the focus of my anticipation. I could resist no
longer. From between his legs, I placed my mouth over the spongy head of
his manhood. The moment I had been resisting and anticipating was
suddenly here, mine, and awesome.

"Ah, that feels intense," he said. During our online discussion he
mentioned that he had never had a blowjob to completion. Brother, I'm
here to tell you this will end in completion. My tongue massaged his
glans and the sensitive underside. Each time I descended upon his shaft,
he would grow in girth a little and become extremely hard. More than a
mouthful, I continued to suck his dick will all the vigor I could muster.
Licking, nibbling, nuzzling, I sucked and sucked, watching his face
contort, his chest heave, his abdomen constrict then relax over and over.
I raised to my knees to better access his huge shaft and flattened my
tongue out to wrap his dick and began sliding my mouth up and down his
length. His balls were pulled up tightly. His hips would flex each time I
moved along his dick.

"Oh," he said under a low moan. "I'm...I'm," at that point, I pulled
down his balls gently and pinched the tip of his dick, holding off his
explosion. He relaxed, but was breathing heavily.

I reached for a packet of condoms and slipped one out of its wrapper,
then unrolled it over his dick. The condom was stretched to its breaking
point as it unfurled down his shaft. A little Astro-Glide on my ass and
on his dick and I was atop my 18 year-old beauty ready to take his
manhood within me.

At first the head fit in comfortably, like so many dicks before, but as I
sat further down, my eyes-popped open, "Oh my. This is going to take
some work."

Already his massive shaft was stretching my hole to the limits but the
reward my prostate was receiving was worth the patience and pain.

Slowly as I worked his dick in to my hole, it began to sink a little
further at which the point came that I could settle down fully, and I
did.

"Am I all the way in?" He asked.

"Yeah. You are. How does it feel?"

"Like hot softness, warm water."

I lifted up a little and his dick slid an inch or two; then, I settled
back down, then back up. The pain was gone and the motions he started
making with his thin hips were sending waves of orgasmic delight through
my legs, waist and into my chest. I took his hands and placed them on my
nipples and urged him to twist them as I increased my pace up and down
his dick. Before long, we were bouncing in unison, his dick slamming in
and out of me, his fingers tweaking my nipples.

I took one of his gentle hands from my chest and placed it on my
softening dick. He began jerking it and bringing it back to life. The
waves of orgasm started building in me as I continued to fuck my
boy-lover harder and faster. His groin was slapping against my ass and we
pounded each other.

"Oh, mmm, Oh my god, I'm going, go, g, g, going to cum. It feels so
good." He put both of his hands on my dick and was double hand beating
me off as I slid up and down.

"Ahhhhh shit, sh, sh, fuck me, fuck, fuck, fu, fu, me." He said with
gritted teeth.

Then I felt him swell, harder than hard, he lifted his hips into me and I
felt his dick surge within me against my prostate. He was still jacking
me off as huge squirts of cum sprayed from my dick onto his chest, face,
hands, and arms.

He collapsed, breathing hard. I rolled off him and just lay there next to
Blake, grabbed a towel and cleaned off his chest. We looked at each other
and just laughed and at the same time mouthed, "WOW."