Date: Fri, 7 Dec 2012 08:53:02 -0800 (PST)
From: Anthony Palazzo <apalazzo198@yahoo.com>
Subject: vintage thrills;  14. New Orleans Rimmer

			    New Orleans Rimmer


One afternoon in the seventies I found myself in a small bathhouse in the
heart of New York City.  As I wandered through the maze of corridors, I
noticed a handsome young black guy watching me.  He followed me into the
showers, and later seemed again to be keeping close tabs on me as I cruised
through the orgy room.

I was primarily a voyeur, and rarely (well let's say infrequently) got into
sex scenes. Most often I would entertain myself by observing all the goings
on at the baths and other gathering places for anonymous sex, and go home
without having had any direct contact with anyone.

But on this day my black admirer was quite insistent, and approached me.
We groped, played tickle-tickle, pat-pat, and then I was prepared to drift
off as was my usual practice.  But my new friend, Claude, was having none
of that; he continued to follow me around.  I was of course flattered.  He
was perhaps ten or twelve years younger than I, very well built and quite
attractive.  I told Claude that I was married, did not usually participate
very actively at these places and that my hesitation was nothing personal.
He was undeterred, and continued to court me.  I was puzzled and said that
there were several much younger better looking guys there.  What, I
wondered, was my particular attraction for him?  It seems that he thought
that my movements and manner were "masculine" and he was looking for a
"butch daddy."  I noticed that he had been staring at my hairy ass in the
shower earlier.  I decided to allow some more sexplay.  We found a
relatively quiet area in the orgy room, and shared some manual and oral
attention.  He was a good cocksucker, and I guess I was getting better at
it too, since I had been receiving no complaints of late.  Feeling Claude's
wiry pubic hair brush my nose as I sucked him was a novel and enjoyable
experience.

After a short time, I stopped, thanked Claude, and left the orgy room.  A
little while later we ran into each other again in a hallway.  Claude
blocked my path with a smile, and said that since I insisted on being a
closet queen we should go into a nearby broom closet.  It was a big broom
closet filled with mops and brooms and a clean-up bucket.  It provided
privacy and had a certain coziness about it. It was really not comfortable
however for any extended activity, so we eventually returned to the comfort
of a bed in the orgy room. Claude and I picked up our romance where we had
left off.  We began to talk and tell each other about ourselves a bit.
Claude, it developed, was visiting New York from New Orleans.  I told him
that I was local, and we spoke a lot about New Orleans, a place that I had
only recently visited. We got around to sexual preferences and I told
Claude of my modest, rather conservative sexual likes.  He went along with
all my preferences, saying that he liked touching and kissing and fondling
and squeezing and sucking as well, and he also LOVED fucking.  I kind of
chose to ignore this revelation.

In a while, Claude wordlessly encouraged me to turn over.  I figured that
he wanted to feel my ass, as I often liked to do with others.  But no,
after brief manual attention, Claude was kissing it wetly and going closer
and closer to the hole.  I had heard about rimming but had never been
rimmed.  Looks like I was going to finally get initiated into rear oral
attention. Yep; that's exactly what he had in mind.  Hey this feels pretty
good.  I could get to like this.  Hope he doesn't expect me to reciprocate.

Little did I realize at the time, that a common reason for rimming is to
prepare the anus for fucking.  Sure enough, after a little while Claude was
whispering sweet nothings in my ear concerning his ramming his considerable
black dick up my butt.  Well, that snapped me out of my reverie pretty
fast.  (If you read a former episode in this series, you will recall that
another bathhouse acquaintance tried but failed to get my ass cherry.  That
guy, Ned, happened to be very polite and backed off when I asked him to.  I
had no assurance that Claude would take no for an answer as easily.)

After Claude had his big pink tongue up my ass about a yard and a half for
several minutes, he withdrew to ask if he could replace it with something a
bit stiffer.

"Ah, no - definitely not," I told him without hesitation.  "I don't do
that."  After several attempts, and extensive rimming, Claude realized that
I meant it.  We settled for a mutual jerk off.  Claude had a thing about
seeing a guy come on his body, and that little preference I could handle
nicely. So I splattered globs of white cum all over his stomach and leg and
he returned the favor on my hairy chest.

He was quite good natured about my off limits asshole and invited me to New
Orleans anyway.