Date: Mon, 21 Jan 2019 10:36:47 +0000
From: Bart Fry <Jobart11@outlook.com>
Subject: OLD MEN HAVING FUN

Most of the stories here are about very handsome young men with rods of
iron.  Very nice too.

But we all grow older, get a bit flabby, slow down a bit.  Like me –
maybe you too.  It doesn't mean that we can't continue to enjoy the great
pleasures we have always enjoyed, and indeed a loving relationship between
older men has qualities that the young don't even know about.

My story is about two of these men, and I hope you find it stimulating.
Let me know – jobart11@outlook.com

Old Men Having Fun

I first met Harty on line in the Silverdaddies chatroom.  I was in London,
he in New York.

His online profile name was `Hot Chocolate – eat me' – a not too
subtle way of telling the world that he was black.  I was `KissMe',
reflecting my oral preferences.  My profile said I loved lots of intimate
contact, and that eventful kissing was an essential.  It also said `race
immaterial – I like difference'.  His said he was primarily bottom, but
that two bottoms could have fun together, so he wasn't necessarily looking
for a top to play with.  There was plenty more, so I knew that this was
someone with more to say than `Hi'.  One way and another, it seemed like a
good match, so I clicked on `chat'.

We chatted quite a lot about sex, obviously, both bemoaning the fact that
in later years our powers had diminished, although our desires had not.  We
moved on to other things then.  We had a similar world view, shared a love
for classical music – he had been a member of a ballet company in his
younger days – and found other things to talk about too.  Then we went
back to sex, recounting our experiences when we were younger.  I did envy
him all those dance boys.

We met in the chatroom again, several times, during the next few weeks,
until I felt I knew him well enough to mention that I would shortly be
working in the US – not in New York but at Stamford CT, not too far away
– and that if the opportunity arose for us to spend the weekend
together, I would jump at it.  He was keen, so we made a plan.

I arrived in Stamford on a Monday.  I got on Silverdaddies that evening,
told Harty that I planned to be in NY as early as I could on Saturday
morning, and that I didn't have to be back in Stamford till late on Sunday.
I was working as a consultant, meaning, in short, that I was spending time
side by side with workers in a company, then preparing a written report on
how they might improve practice.  I had finished the in-house work by
Friday lunchtime, and went back to the hotel to draw the report together
from the notes I had been writing all week.  Usually this takes me the
whole weekend, ready for a presentation the following Monday, but I just
slogged away at it and by dinner time it was in shape – nothing that I
couldn't edit and improve on Monday morning.  So I was free, which had
always been the plan.

I called Harty at about 6.  `See you in the morning' I said, I'm catching a
train at 8.59 – should be at Penn station before 10am.

But he didn't sound very happy.  There was a bit of hesitation then he said
`I don't think you should come.'

I was devastated by this.  It was so unexpected – all our conversations
had been eager and positive.  `What's the problem?'

It took a while to get it out of him, but eventually he admitted that he
was anxious about disappointing me.  `Sometimes I can't get my cock up', he
said.  `And it is two years since I last managed to cum'.

`Listen Harty, the only thing that will disappoint me will be not seeing
you.  Remember, I'm not a great stud myself.  I am sure we can have fun
together, like it said in your profile, and if you can kiss me and hold me
tight that will be good enough.  And...' I added, `there are enough things
to do in New York if we don't manage to make out.'

He relented, told me how to get to his apartment from Penn Station, and we
hung up.

Ten 20 am, I rang the bell on the panel outside his apartment.  `Harty,
it's Jim', I said, and he buzzed me in.  Fourth floor, he instructed.  As I
went up in the lift (OK elevator to you), I too was feeling nervous.  I had
related to Harty in chat, but the real thing can be very different.  I had
seen the blurred photo of his face that he had sent me, but that didn't
really tell me much.

I reached the door of his apartment and knocked.  He was obviously waiting
just inside, for it opened immediately.  He stood there, five foot ten, a
little portly, a nervous smile.  He was wearing a towelling robe, and was
still glistening after his shower.  I went in, and closed the door behind
me.  `Harty', I whispered.  `Jim, good to see you.'  There was nothing else
said.  I moved in to him, put my hands around his head, and kissed his
mouth.  His response was instant.  His tongue found its way between my
lips.  It had been less than ten seconds, and we both knew that the
chemistry was there.  He tasted great.

Harty was not a great looker – but then neither was I.  The shape had
started to fall out of his face, his eyes drooped, he had rather a big
nose.  He was, let's say, `stocky'.  As for me, age had set in some time
ago, and I sported a rather large belly which, unless I drew it in,
concealed from me my rather small cock.  None of this mattered.  We nuzzled
each other, pressing our bodies together.  We continued to kiss hungrily.
I slipped my hand inside his robe and started to stroke his ample bum as I
pulled him closer to me.  He loosened the top buttons of my trousers, and
did the same to me.  We stayed away from each other's cocks – not to
have all the treats at once.  For several minutes, we enjoyed a blissful
congress.  At last, he pulled himself away from my mouth.  `Can I get you a
drink?'  `Later' I replied, and dived back onto his face, licking it
hungrily, turning his head a little so that I could gently bite his ear.
He sighed with pleasure.  Then, taking my hand, he led me into the bedroom.

Standing by the bed, he pulled the front of his robe open, slipped his arms
out, and let it drop to the floor and stood in front of me naked.  His
greying pubic hair stood out against his black skin.  His cock was long and
lean, a little shrivelled, and, as he had warned me, soft and hardly
trembling.  He searched my face for signs of disappointment.  He saw none.
All I wanted to do was explore his whole body, and my smile and my tongue
running round my lips told him what he needed to know.  I started to peel
off my shirt but he stopped me.  `That's my job', he whispered.  He slipped
it over my neck and looked approvingly at the wisps of hair on my chest
before giving each nipple a gentle squeeze.  Then he laid me on the bed, on
my back, took off my shoes and socks and arranged them neatly under a
chair, then started to work on the already loosened trousers.  Gently, he
tugged them down over my feet, leaving me just in my navy blue briefs.  The
twitching tented fabric revealed my enthusiasm – I had had no difficulty
getting hard from the first moments of our encounter.

He slipped his finger under the elastic of the waistband.  `May I?' he
asked politely – as if I was going to say no.  The next moment, the
briefs were on the floor, and his face was buried in my bush hungrily
devouring my manhood, tongue swirling, nose rubbing my belly from side to
side, hands gripping hard into my buttocks, and bringing me rapidly to the
verge of the greatest ecstasy - so much so that I had to pull away and tell
him that if I were to cum so soon, it would be a long time before I could
manage again.

He laughed at that, and, preliminaries over and well introduced to each
other, we just lay side by side cuddling, kissing, stroking, caressing,
whispering to each other, just making love in the most comfortable and
unhurried way.  I grasped his soft cock and massaged it gently, feeling
little tremors as it tried to firm up, opening and closing the foreskin,
and enjoying his little moans of pleasure.  This continued for quite a
while until I roused myself and got to the other end of the bed.

Now it was time to attend seriously to his reluctant penis.  I slipped it
into my mouth and sucked it in as far as it would go, enjoying the softness
and the continued tremors.  Harty was obviously enjoying it to, as he
thrust in and out gently, and emitted a tiny trace of precum whose salty
taste I enjoyed.  Before long, I felt his mouth close over my cock and we
gently wanked each other with our mouths.  Lovely.

*****

After several minutes in a delightful 69, we came to together head to head
again, and softly embraced each other, peacefully exploring each other's
mouths, and occasionally pressing bellies together more tightly for another
little wriggle.  While we gently loved each other, we chatted softly.

`I am so glad I came'

`I was really afraid you'd be disappointed'

`You had been honest enough in your profile – I was looking for a sweet
loving companion, not a stud.  Oh – and being black was a bit of a
bonus'

The conversation was interrupted by long pauses as we just enjoyed the
togetherness.

`What counts for me is your commitment and pleasure, and I felt that from
our very first kiss.  Anyway, I rather like having a soft cock in my mouth
to play with'.

`I love the feeling of your hard-on against my belly'

I gave him another little poke, but my erection was starting to flag now
– it had been a long time.

`Harty, we are just two old has-beens.'

`You have made me feel younger...'

`Bite my ear'.

He obliged with a gentle and very sexy nibble, followed by a complete
engulfing of my ear in a wet morass of lips and hungry tongue which got me
all of a twitch again.  I pushed him onto his back and clambered on top of
him.  He sighed in deep pleasure and just said `go for it'.

I started to slide up and down on his belly, faster and faster.  He clung
onto me his nails hard into my arse cheeks.  It took me a long time – it
always does - and I started to wonder if I would manage to climax.  The
friction was wonderful in any case, and when at last I started to feel the
point of no return coming I redoubled my efforts, grunting and panting
until I felt the wonderful explosion, and my everything burst out onto his
round tummy, seeping into his pubes, and momentarily glueing us together.

After that, I remained on top of him for an age, breathing hard at first,
and then I think I must have sunk into a blissful sleep as he murmured
endearments into my sodden ear.

It must have been half an hour later that I came too, still on top of him.
He smiled up at me as he saw my eyes open.

`Sorry, Harty, I must be too heavy on you'.

`You can stay there for ever as far as I am concerned.'

So I stayed there, passion spent for now but well contented, until at last
he roused himself and said we should have something to eat.  My white spunk
was still encrusted on his black belly.  He pointed me towards the shower,
and we went in together, embracing under the warm water, and washing each
other's most intimate places.

We ate a simple Caesar salad he had prepared, and said that I needed some
sexual recovery time and how about going out somewhere for a while.  It
seemed important to enjoy each other's company out of bed as well as in.

He proposed a visit to the Metropolitan Art Gallery, and when we had washed
the dishes and had a playful little snog, we headed across to the subway
and got a train up to 86th.  We spent a happy afternoon wandering through
the great impressionist collection, looking – in Harty's case with a
very expert eye – especially at the Degas dancers, and most importantly
chatting and getting to know each other as companions and friends.  We were
comfortable in the knowledge that we were making it sexually, that there
would be more of that later, and that there was more to our weekend than
that.

Later, back in his apartment, we had some supper and settled down to watch
a movie.  We chose `Moonlight' which we had both seen before and thought to
be rather a profound film.  There is a particular scene I remembered from
my first viewing, when the nine-year-old boy suddenly asks his mentor
`what's a faggot?'  I recalled how the whole cinema had been shocked into
silence, maybe everyone wondering how we would have answered such a
question from such a young innocent who must have had the jibe thrown at
him sometime.  After the longest of thoughtful pauses the man replies
something like `it's a bad word some people use to insult gay people, and
it's best ignored,' As the film moved to the final twenty-years-later
reunion of the school friends, we became entwined again on the sofa, and
Harty whispered: `getting late – maybe it's bedtime'.

*****

Half an hour later we lay spooned together under the bed covers, my cock
nestling between his cheeks, squeezed a little from time to time as he
flexed his muscles.  It was relaxed, affectionate, not wild at all.  We
chatted.

`How long since you last managed to cum?' I asked him

`Maybe two years' he told me.  `I had a dear friend who died.  I haven't
managed to even get an erection since then.'

`Your profile said two bottoms can still have fun together, and that's just
what happened to us.'

`We sure have, Jim – it's been the best fun I've had for a long time'

`And a long night now for more fun when we're ready'.

`Are you really a bottom?' Harty asked.  `You sure liked going a bit mad on
top of me this morning.'

`Ah, I replied, `you have me there.  I would love to be a top, I'd love to
fuck an arse, but I've given it up because I go flop as soon as I try to
put a condom on.  It's easier just to say I'm bottom.'

`You haven't been going flop much with me'.

`Well you say that, and I know I get harder than you do, but it doesn't
last very long as you've noticed'.

`Well, I'm not noticing right now,' he said, giving me a nice little
squeeze, and true enough I had a little bit of poke, and tentatively rubbed
it against his hole as he moaned appreciatively.

`That's really nice'.

`Yeah, for me too.'

`What do you do back in England?  Do you have a special friend?'

`At the moment, you're the most special friend I have,' I whispered,
gathering his ear into my mouth and massaging it with a very wet tongue.
Then I went down the bed a bit and gave his flaccid cock the same treatment
while he rubbed his fingers on my arsehole.  After some more loving play,
we both dropped off to a very contented sleep, wrapped around each other.

It must have been about two in the morning when I woke suddenly to find him
on top of me.  He had gently turned me onto my back and climbed on.

`Sorry to wake you,' he said.  `I want to play again and I can't wait till
morning.'

Then began our most tempestuous time since we had met.  I hugged him close
onto me, enjoying his weight and thrusting myself against him.  He was
jerking about on top of me. Side to side, in and out, rubbing and chafing
against my belly, and kissing me deeply at the same time.  I felt as if I
had gone to heaven, and so it seemed did he, for I suddenly felt the
unmistakeable pressure of a hardening cock scouring against mine as he
gasped in growing excitement.

`Don't stop now' I panted, and he didn't, pumping furiously against me as I
clutched his bum and pulled it as tight towards me as I possibly could.
Who would have thought the old man had so much energy in him as he plunged
up and down faster and faster, crying out with excitement until I knew his
moment had come and he gave an ecstatic scream as two years-worth of jism
burst out over me, and his writhing subsided into an exhausted collapse as
he sank his weight onto me and kissed me fervidly as I sucked his quivering
tongue deep into my mouth.

We lay in this drained embrace for a very long time before he spoke.

`I can't believe it,' he said.  `Thankyou, thankyou, thankyou'.

`And thank you' I whispered.  `It's not often anyone has got that excited
about me.  I feel privileged.  And that was just so lovely.'

He was still on top of me five hours later when the daylight had crept into
the room and we both awoke – at the same time it seemed – from the
deepest and most satisfying of sleeps.  He rubbed his stubbly face against
my beard then smiled at me, his warm brown eyes gazing down at my face with
gentle affection.

`Did that really happen, or was I dreaming?' he said.

*****

We went to a small diner round the corner and had a big breakfast – we
seemed to have spent a lot of energy – and all we wanted to do after
that was go back to bed, so we did.  The morning went by gently cuddled up,
kissing and playing together.  Harty got up and made coffee and we sat side
by side in bed drinking it, until when it was half gone we forgot it, and
turned our attention to each other again.  I lay him on his back, pushed
the covers aside, and went right down to his feet.  I inserted his big toe
into my mouth, and sucked it affectionately.  Then I licked the back of his
calf, the inside of his knee, and up the inside of his thighs.  Then my
appreciative tongue explored every inch of his groin area, and I was
gratified to feel a little hardening once again in his cock as I swallowed
it, and swirled it around in my throat.  Then his belly, his nipples, and,
to a giggle of his laughter, his armpits.  Finally his ears and his sweet
mouth, by which time my whole body was enveloping him and we thrust
together in another delicious congress while our tongues worked overtime on
each other.  Then I turned him over onto his belly, and felt in my
overnight bag for the bottle of Johnson's baby oil I kept there.

`Massage time'. I whispered, and poured a big slop of oil between his
shoulders, rubbing it into his back and kneading with my knuckles as I
went.  He moaned his pleasure.  Another slurp of oil onto the middle of his
back, more of the same treatment, and then onto his arse which I lovingly
rubbed all over before giving a final generous slurp into the crack and
massaged it into the eager hole that was awaiting my attention.  With a
finger, I felt inside and he gasped as my finger touched the sweet spot.
Soon I added another finger.  The fingers played inside that hole for
several minutes, pressing this, tickling that, enjoying his pleasure.
Finally I removed my finger and lowered myself onto his glistening back,
now slippery with oil, and massaged his whole body with all of mine.  Both
of us emitted little gasps of delight as we moved smoothly against each
other and I felt my cock become as hard as it has ever been.  Inevitably it
found its way into the crack, and I couldn't resist a couple of little
pokes.

`Please come inside' he begged, but I said `I don't want to stop to put on
a condom.'

`I don't care about the condom – please push your way right in'.

Resistance was futile.  I wanted so much to fully enter him, territory I
had not been able to explore for years and years, and with a sudden hard
thrust, I slipped in.  His well-practised arsehole took it in comfort, and
as for me, I was in seventh heaven as I started to thrust violently and
deeper and deeper.  Now there was no stopping and I pumped wildly in and
out until the inevitable eruption, a couple of final plunges, and the total
exhaustion.

`Stay inside,' be implored and I wasn't going anywhere anyway.  We lay in a
heap, in a total state of bliss.  My cock was soft now, but he was working
his muscles to squeeze it some more and hold it in.

After a very long time, I finally pulled out.

`Harty...'

`Don't say anything.'

`I haven't done that since I was a teenager.'

`You haven't lost your touch'.

`It was so wonderful'

We were face to face again, kissing some more of course, then he asked me
to lie with my head up on three pillows.

`I am a new man,' he said, `I feel I can do anything'.

He sat astride my shoulders, and shoved his cock into my mouth.  I felt it
grow inside me, then he slowly, slowly, fucked my mouth.  I could sense his
excitement growing and his concentration intensifying as he moved in and
out and I provided as much friction as I could with my lips and tongue.  He
panted as the big moment approached and suddenly there was stuff in my
mouth, salty as an oyster, sweet as ice cream, gushing into my throat so
fast that I had to gag for breath.  He pulled out then, and we kissed once
more, sharing his sweet juices in both our mouths.

*****

We stood together on Penn Station.  There was nothing much to be said now.
Our friendship had reached the point where a few words were enough.

`Will you be coming to New York again?'

`In five weeks I am working in Albany, so...'

THE END