Date: Sun, 9 Dec 2012 10:10:53 -0800 (PST)
From: Anthony Palazzo <apalazzo198@yahoo.com>
Subject: vintage thrills;  16. Antibiotic Marathon

Antibiotic Marathon

At some point in the 1970s, I was feeling sorry for myself.  A gay man with
a healthy sexual appetite and little satisfying outlet for it.  My marriage
was, and is, extremely important to me, and I dared not jeopardize it.  On
the other hand, when I married who knew that those gnawing gay feelings
were not a passing bisexual phase that would easily be overcome by a happy
marriage?

I came up with a solution one day of going on a two day sexual spree, but
first well protected against sexually transmitted diseases.I went to a
doctor who advertised in a local gay paper, lied to him and told him that I
had had sex the previous day and the guy told me that he was being treated
for syphilis.  I asked for an antibiotic prescription, and got it.  Then
taking an abundance of antibiotic medication to protect me against
infection (there was no AIDS at the time) I went to a gay bath, and told my
wife I was going on a business trip.


I stayed overnight, and met a guy there who matched me in hornyness. We
caressed each other for a long time, kissed, hugged, and exchanged lengthy
oral favors.  This guy, whose name I don't remember, was also one of the
few guys that I have ever fucked.  He couldn't believe how naive I was, but
he was very patient, and was rewarded by the enthusiastic efforts of this
very willing student.  After I fucked him, spoon fashion, I stayed in his
butt, and we rested.


After a few minutes he asked, "Didn't you come?"

I assured him that I had, and he wondered, "Then why are you still hard?"

If he realized how deprived this boy had been, he would have understood
better why I was still excited. Over the next 3 or 4 hours I think I wore
him out.  He didn't quite know what to make of me. We talked alot in
between sex -- he was several years older than I and told me that his wife
had died a few years prior. He said that he didn't usually get fucked and
had only been fucked a few times, but I guess he sensed my neediness and my
desire to "try it all."


The following day, I continued my marathon by responding to a pre-selected
massage ad.  The masseur was Tony the Greek.  An older guy (for a masseur)
of perhaps 40, Tony had an abundance of curly dark hair, a compact muscular
body and a nice European accent.  He began the massage in a traditional
way, with me up on a massage table, and he fully dressed.  As we talked, he
quickly understood my wants and became more intimate in his touches.  He
was actually a good masseur, qualified to give an excellent legitimate
professional massage.  But by the time he was working on my shoulder, his
bulging crotch in my face was too much of a temptation for me to allow the
physical therapy to continue so innocently.  I brushed his crotch with my
arm, he pressed back, and we were off to the races.  Soon I opened his fly
and extracted a huge, dark cock.  Uncircumcised, long and very thick, I
stroked it and then began to nibble at it.


"Okay, okay," said Greek Tony. "Let's move over to the bed.  Too bad
though," he mumbled, "your body was very tense, I could have worked some
more on that."

I had few regrets about shortening the professional part of the massage.
As tense as my body may have felt to his professional hands, I could think
of many ways to lose my feelings of tension.

As Tony stripped, I noticed a big round mirror above the bed.  He joined me
on the bed and we embraced.

"Do you like to get fucked, Joe" (the name I had given him), the masseur
asked.

Not quite understanding him because of his accent and my nervousness, I
answered non-comittally.

"Good, I will fuck you later !"  he enthused.

Catching it the second time, I quickly corrected the misunderstanding.

"Oh.  Alright," he said sadly.  "Too bad, I like this kind of ass.  If I
press my big dick against your butt, you can look up at the ceiling and it
will look as though you are being fucked. We can pretend."

Sounded like a fun, harmless game to me. And so we played it.  And then
proceeded to swallow the Italian sausage, followed by choke on the Greek
sausage.  Tony, the masseur, loved deep kissing, and so we swapped spit and
sucked on tongues and darted our tongues into each other's mouth.


The time passed too quickly, and I was soon dressing and getting ready to
leave.  Tony was encouraging me to come back again.

"I have some young friends, we can have a big party all together," he
enthused.

Nice idea, but regretfully it never happened.


My sex marathon was not yet over, however.  I had one more appointment to
keep.  This one was also with a masseur whose ad I had been drooling over
for months.  Time out for dinner and a walk.  And then ringing a bell to an
apartment further uptown.  After being buzzed in, I realized that this old
building had no elevator and my masseur was on the sixth floor.  Like I
needed the exercise after the past 36 hours or so.


Huffing and puffing a little, I finally arrived at the sixth floor (the
twelfth landing!) and there was a very handsome blond man hanging out a
doorway in greeting.  Well that was worth it, I'm beginning to think.  This
one is really something!  Movie star gorgeous, with bulging muscles and his
blond locks falling over his forehead just so, I forgot all about the
stairclimbing.  Robert wore a brightly colored floral shirt open to his
navel and loose fitting cotton slacks.  He was barefoot and had a dazzling
smile which was turned on full blast right now.

Robert ushered me into his small neat apartment and after a little chat
showed me to a massage table which was set up in the bedroom.  As I lay
there, face down, I looked out at the postage stamp sized kitchen, which
had highly polished black and white tiles in a checkerboard design for
flooring.  Robert's hands felt great on my shoulders, back and legs.  He
soon asked me to turn over and as I did, he stripped down to bikini style
shorts.  I enjoyed the view very much and told him so.  He reacted warmly
as he massaged my arms with strong gentle hands.  I never thought we were
going to get down to "business" although I had tried to throw several hints
about the type of massage I was hoping for.  But then, Robert, having done
all the therapeutic stuff on my legs and torso, picked up my dick as though
he were inspecting a newly caught fish.  He slavered it with oil and began
a pleasant up and down rubbing movement with one hand as he held it with
the other.  I smiled my approval.  Within moments I was stiff as a nail and
beginning to worry that this was going to be over too soon.  I tried to
slow Robert down by placing my hand over his, which resulted in his asking
in a confidential low voice, "Dyawannafugoff?"

"Umm, wha' ?  What did you say?"

"Do you want to fuck it off ?" he repeated in a clear, easily understood
voice.

I quickly understood that "it" referred to my erection, and responded,
"Well, whatever is your specialty."  I had actually been looking forward to
a blowjob.

"Well, that's it !," he responded with a smile.

"Ummm, I'm not exactly expert at this, and you might have to help me out a
bit, I mumbled," playing a little more innocent than was real, but at the
same time, honestly conveying my nervousness about the situation.

"Well, Ooo- kayyyy, "

said Robert as he stripped off his briefs and joined me up on the table.

Then flipping over on his belly, before I could even get a good look at his
dick, he began to instruct me in the most basic way as though dealing with
a slow child. Not sure about his cock but he had an excellent ass.

"Now, you just lie on top of me here, and stick your willie in my hole."

He hunched up his butt invitingly, and I followed instructions without
difficulty.  Robert reached around to help.

"Now, don't be afraid, just push it all the way in, and...OH YES, that's
better, that's right, that's uh...good."

I shut up Robert and his ridiculous running commentary by commencing slow
fucking motions.  I wanted it to be slow because I was dangerously close to
coming.  Although Robert's massage was not the most sensual I had ever
received, he was among the finest looking men I had ever been with, and I
had been looking forward to this encounter since first reading his ad
months earlier.  Robert was not completely happy with my pace.

"Uh, you can do it harder, faster, harder, you know."

This guy wanted a fast hard fuck.  Well fuck him, who's the customer here
anyway?  I ignored him as I continued to screw him slowly with long, deep,
circular thrusts.  When I reversed directions, he moaned, and that sent me
over the top.

"Gonna come !"

"It's okay, it's okay, stay in, stay in there, baby."

And so I shot a full, heavy load in several volleys up Robert's clutching
ass.

As we recovered and Robert flipped over, lying next to me, he said, "What
was all that stuff about not knowing what you were doing?  That really
wasn't new for you, was it?"

"Well, I have, uh, fucked before, but, y'know, not so much with men,"
pointing to my wedding band.

"Oh, I see. But basically the same, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I guess so.  Listen, sorry that I came so fast.  Maybe we could rest
a while, and I could...uh..."

"Oh, well, no, no.  But you are invited back, any time, just any ole time
you want to."

" Uh-huh. I see. Well, OK," as I get up and start to dress.  I point to a
big movie poster on the wall. There is a picture of a handsome blond man
with an open shirt pointing a gun at a dark haired woman with her back to
the camera.  The lighting in the room is low but the poster seems to be of
fairly recent vintage - not a golden oldie.  The man in the poster looks
like the guy I just fucked.

"Is that you ?," I ask, pointing.

"Well, I hope that I look better than THAT !," he replies, with real or
fake indignation. He closes the door, so I cannot examine the poster in any
more detail.

Hmm, maybe I just fucked a movie star, I'm thinking as I start the long
trip down six double flights of stairs.