Date: Mon, 16 Oct 2006 14:33:18 -0700
From: joe69orforg@yahoo.com
Subject: I STILL MISS HIM #3

Funny how an experience can stay with me, even if it has some negative
elements. Maybe it's the challenge, or maybe it's how strongly the good
outweighs the bad. Pat had been an intriguing IM partner who shadow-boxed a
lot. He was a master at evading even direct questions that made him
something of a mystery. I had learned that he lived with an older male whom
he found wanting in his sexual interests. Yet, he practiced deception to
avoid his companion's knowing that Pat was playing around. I wondered what
kind of stories Pat made up when he was cruising the hot places in the
desert. Another buddy of mine who knew Pat well told me that Pat was a
fixture in some of the gay bars and that when he was drunk, his reserve
dissolved and he was likely to go home or in the back room with anyone who
propositioned him.

Being less than candid is not an unusual trait among many of the men I
meet. Most of us have some secrets that we prefer not revealing. I had no
particular reason to know exactly where Pat lived. I knew that it took as
little as fifteen minutes to drive between his house and mine. My other
buddy had mentioned Pat's last name, but I had so little curiousity at the
time that I let it vanish from my mind. Beyond that. Pat had openly claimed
to me that he and I were exclusive sex partners, due to our mutual
preference to play bareback. I had no reason to doubt my other buddy's
reports to the contrary. Furthermore, men vary in the degree of openness
about themselves and their everyday lives. Some are also very verbal and
physically expressive. Others are more reserved. I tend to adapt to the
proclivities of my partners unless they are clear that they desire a more
dominant or a more dominated partner.

Pat was something of an anomaly in that he was quite outgoing and outspoken
when we IMd, but he was almost mute and quite narrowly focused when we were
together. Much as I enjoyed his concentration on his purpose, I'd never met
anyone so reluctant to engage in any small talk or just plain general
physical contact. My willingness to allow things to grow of their own
manner made it possible for me to be content with the incredibly enjoyable,
if very brief, encounters. I could settle for a continuation of our
sessions indefinitely in spite of my unease at the likelihood that we might
eventually find ourselves faced with a nasty infection that he could have
picked up during his wild desert flings (or anywhere else for that matter).

Although retired, I kept a busy life with volunteer work, regular gym
workouts, social engagements and a steady flow of casual sexual visitors or
men who invited me to places of their choosing. Very seldom did I find
myself doing more than idly mulling Pat's peculiarities in my mind. Fun as
he was, he wasn't my obsession.

True, two swallows do not a summer make. Nor do two sessions with the
Minute Man fill out my dance card. I continued to pursue my varied
interests. I had spotted Pat online a couple of times and sent him an IM
greeting without response. Some people leave themselves connected when not
at their computer, including myself. I didn't feel rejected.

About two weeks into December, I was concentrating on my Christmas plans
when an IM from Pat popped up on my screen.

pppxxx: hi joe, how're things?

hornyjoe69: goin well, Pat, how're u doing?

pppxxx: are u alone?

hornyjoe69: yeah, just goin thru the mail

pppxxx: can we get together in a little while?

hornyjoe69: hey, thot u'd never ask--when u wanna cum by?

pppxxx: mmmm how about eleven? I have some errands to do before lunch

hornyjoe69: works 4 me, Pat--b sorta like an early xmas surprise--shall I
meet u in a big red stocking?

pppxxx: naw, I gotta get ready to go back east for a big family holiday
get-together and will b gone until mid-january--need u before I leave

hornyjoe69: I'd still like 2 think of u as an early gift--will u have time 4
justa little drink?

pppxxx: better not--might hafta explain that--can u clean out extra good?

hornyjoe69: sure,babe, wanna make it good 4 u--I'll b ready at 11 am

Well! Wasn't that a surprise? Came right out and asked; came right out and
explained. There may be hope yet for this boy in my life, I mused.

I did my now-routine preparations and checked to be sure that everything
was in place for a quick entry. I was just straightening up the living room
when the familiar wagon pulled up. Pat bounced out at 10:55 and made a
beeline for my front door. It was a balmy morning, so I had the screen
closed and the door blocked open to catch a fresh breeze. Pat flung back
the screen and bounded into the entryway. I stood nearby just in case he
wanted to take a brief stop for a hug or other greeting gesture. Per
earlier visits though, Pat swung around the stairway and took the steps two
at a time, clumping loudly as he descended. I took time to close the door
and lock it just in case someone else should just try to walk in.

By the time I entered the bedroom, Pat was down to his briefs and was
flicking at the fat package protruding out front. I threw aside my few rags
and dropped to my knees to help him remove his jockeys. I took a deep
breath as I looked hungrily at his thick flaccid cock. It was a sight to be
savored, but he was flicking it impatiently. I took its bulk into my hand
and then rubbed my tongue across the slit. He let out a breath and thrust
it toward me. I peeped around the roundness of his cock to examine his huge
textured pouch below and the expanse of sandy pubic hair surrounding the
treasure chest. This cursory view of his genitals took only a few seconds,
but it was more than I had enjoyed before. I place great stock in the
visual elements of mansex. I allowed myself a fleeting wish that I could
spend some time exploring the contours of his cock and balls, but Pat was
thrusting his swelling cock into my mouth. My lips wrapped around its
circumference and my tongue lapped underneath the glans. I love the feel of
a nice firm dick and am thought by some to be a pretty exciting
cocksucker. That's probably because I'm a great admirer of cock in all its
iterations. I was thoroughly enjoying taking Pat's to the hilt, my nose in
his crinkly and musky thatch. Pat's repeated thrusts sent waves of
excitement into my body as I savored the texture and flavor of his thick
stump. Well, maybe a stump is too modest a term--it was long enough to reach
well inside me, even though its thick broadness was the thing that really
aroused me. Getting my sphincter well stretched is a prime source of
satisfaction.

Our foreplay (as it were) had already extended seconds beyond our two
earlier encounters, and I felt that Pat was enjoying my ministrations and,
as well, contributing some by his pelvic heaving.

But as with all good things-- he was pouring out a copious flow of nectar
and I wondered if we'd even need lube, what with all his natural gusher--he
whispered to me to lube him up. I did so, and bent over the footboard of
the bed. He positioned himself carefully and lined up his hips at an exact
level with my butt. He stood back with his rod jutting outward and then
rubbed the head along my asscrack, pausing provocatively each time he made
contact with my eager hole.

"Mmmmmmm feels good," I moaned. "Slide inside and give me all of it."

By the time I had completed my speech, I felt his gross glans, slippery as
a big plum, part my sphincter and penetrate within. Without the help or
guidance of any hands, his stiff thickness relentlessly moved inward until
he was fully into me and pressing his balls against me firmly and
insistently.

"Oh yeah," I uttered. "Fill me up with your big cock. Give me a hammering
until you flood my guts with your nuts."

His thrusts were firm and deliberate; in and out inandout INANDOUT. He
seemed intent on getting the job done, yet there was a sense of desire on
his part to create more arousal and the slow build up of tension. At the
end of each deep penetration, he gave a long, hard thrust as if to get
inside another quarter of an inch. His rhythm picked up in force and speed,
and he was soon colliding against me with greater and greater force as if
he was building an inner pressure. I was grasping my own erection with
great excitement, for his exertions were bringing me nearer and nearer to a
peak.

"Fuck me, man. Fuck me hard!" I urged him

He began a new stroke, withdrawing completely each time and then jamming
the head hard into my hole and slamming down to a loud slap at the depth of
each thrust. He did this again and again; each drive sending wild jolts of
electricity through my body as he rammed me harder and harder. Slap! SLAP!
SLAP!! His bearing was more that of a firm determination to build our
climax beyond anything we'd experienced before. Sheer determination began
to dominate his driving force, and I felt each hit as a growing expansion
of my own desire. I locked my knees and pressed my feet firmly onto the
floor to provide a firm platform for his thrusting, sending deep throat
sounds out almost involuntarily, though his only indications of his
mounting forces were his harder and more determined hammering and the
slapping noises as our skins made firm contact. The room was filled with
high anticipation, and I waited for him to indicate his pleasure in some
overt manner aside from his bodily exertions. I was responding with my own
backward thrusts to each stroke, and savoring the swelling passions of our
bodies. Then with an abrupt drive, hard and deep, he locked his body
against mine and just stood rigidly letting a huge fountain of his
ejaculation flood inside me. No movement, no vocalization. Just a sudden
ceasing of his efforts. At least in my imagination I could feel his copious
flood pour deep inside my body. Since my own coming had finished before
this great moment, I allowed myself to savor the thought of his emptying
his heavy load with a feeling of deep satisfaction. I remained silent in
the interest of preserving the moment, though I wanted to shout. The silent
seconds passed until he slowly and reluctantly withdrew his already
withering cock, turned, and rushed to the bathroom. I was surprised to find
very little outflow compared with our previous encounters. I dabbled at my
crack and pulled on my shorts as he returned.

"Wow!" I burst out. "You really gave that one your all."

"Took longer today. I couldn't wait and had to get off right after I called
you," he murmured. "That was my second load in an hour."

I smiled as I commented, "Next time bring both of them here and we'll enjoy
them together."

He gave me a slight grin for that, and finished pulling on his clothes,
bounded up the stairs and out the door. I followed and would have loved to
give him a farewell hug or a grateful kiss, but he was already rolling down
the street. "Well, Merry Christmas anyway," I said to the void.