This is a story about man on man sex. If this offends
you please do not read further. Otherwise please enjoy this story which
is the second chapter of a longer piece about mature widowers who take care of
each other's needs. Thanks to those of you who took the trouble to email
me a few line of encouragement for the first chapter – such notes are the lifeblood
of any author! I'd be very interested to receive your feedback and
suggestions for future chapters. My email is zlatyblbec@yahoo.com
Nifty is a wonderful free service for those who enjoy gay
themed literature, but does need donations to continue doing its wonderful
work.
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It was still dark when I woke
up. For a few moments I was disorientated and couldn't work out where I
was. But quickly the events of a few hours earlier came back to me.
I took a deep breath as I remembered, and a thrill ran through me.
Had I really done that? Allowed Alan to strip me naked and then to play
with my body and suck my penis until I shot my load into his mouth?
Instinctively, I suppose, I searched in my mind for feelings of shame at what
I'd – what we'd – done. But I couldn't find any. I felt light
headed. So happy. It was like waking up the morning after I'd lost
my virginity as a teenager in the sixties. I was tingling all over.
What harm had been done? We were both mature. Very mature, you
could say, even. And we'd both entered into things willingly – at least
after a little persuasion from Alan!
Next to me Alan was breathing very
gently, obviously asleep.
Continuing to think back to a couple
of hours previous I moved my left hand to my nipple and began to circle my
middle finger slowly around it. At the same time I began to rub the palm
of my right hand all over my chest and belly, relishing the feel of my own
body. I wondered why I hadn't done this sort of thing before, when I was
in my own big bed, alone. The fact of the matter was I'd never
thought about the subtleties of self-pleasure before. Just a quick jerk to
relieve the need had been all I'd managed. But the memory of Alan's
fingertips and hands moving over my erogenous zones was so strong I needed
more, even if I was meeting those needs myself. I moved my legs slightly
apart and then back together again, then repeated the manoeuvre, taking care
not to disturb Alan. The freedom of my total nakedness felt so
liberating. At home, apart from in exceptional heatwaves, I'd always worn
some form of clothing to bed. When I'd been tempted to try nudity Anne
had been disapproving for one reason or another, so I'd always ended up
complying and putting something on. Now I luxuriated in the feeling of
nothing but linen sheets next to my skin.
As I dragged my palm across my belly
I could feel the dried remains of the mixture of my semen and Alan's spit that
he'd massaged into me before we fell asleep. I continued to circle my
fingertip around my nipple, which was now very hard, and as I did so felt my
penis begin to wake up as well. For the first time It seemed as if there
was some connection from my nipple to my dick – that my stroking up top was
having an effect down below. For a while I didn't move my right hand from
my belly but just kept circling my nipple with my finger as my penis grew
harder and harder. It was so relaxing, and as I played I continued to
reflect on how the world had changed in the last few hours. I'd arrived
at Alan's to watch the match a conventional 60-odd year old widower.
Father of two children and as solidly heterosexual as they come. My friend
was similar, or so I assumed – almost exactly the same age, same background,
three strapping sons. In the space of six or seven hours (I'd no idea
what the time was) I'd turned into someone who didn't care about his penis
being sucked by his friend, or of sharing a passionate goodnight kiss with
him. And someone who wanted to do it all over again.
I reached down to my penis. It
was hard but the foreskin hadn't worked its way back entirely. I now drew
it back all the way and felt around the rim of my dick's head. It was
still moist from the semen and saliva that hadn't managed to escape from the
hood. I circled the tip of my finger round the groove, collected a little
of the juice and brought it from under the sheets, first to smell and then to
taste. I felt my penis stiffen further, and experienced that unmistakable
feeling that I was beginning to ooze pre-cum again. It seemed off that
I'd now slept alone for months, and had been able to do what I liked with no
one to see or to comment or to judge, but until this evening hadn't really
thought of indulging myself in this way, to worship my own sexuality.
Until tonight a quick wank was about it. But Alan had changed all
that. It felt so deliciously naughty – I felt like a boy again who'd end
up getting a hiding if his dad knew what he was up to. The butterflies
fluttered some more...
I moved my arm across to where Alan
was still sleeping, and felt for him with the back of my left hand, very gently
so as not to wake him. About a foot away I made contact with his smooth
warm skin, and explored very slowly with my hand to work out how he was
lying. It was obvious that he was facing away from me as I could feel my
knuckles were moving up and down his curvy backside, one knuckle at a time
falling into the cleft between his buttocks. With the knuckle of my
middle finger resting in the slit between his cheeks I stopped and changed the
direction of my caress, now moving my hand down his body until I felt his
buttocks begin to curve away from me to join the top of his legs. Then I
moved back up the valley until my fingernails were at the small of his back,
and repeated the action two or three times. I withdrew my hand and turned
onto my left side and began to massage his buttocks with the palm of my right
hand, working in tiny circles around his smooth skin. As my hand explored
I realised I couldn't feel the jockstrap he'd been wearing when we went to
sleep and that he too was now totally naked – he must have woken at some time
and divested himself of it although he hadn't disturbed me when he'd done so.
Edging myself closer to him I reached
the point where my arm could reach over his body. I then moved the extra
couple of inches until my belly was touching his back, and as my now rock hard
penis found a natural home sandwiched between my torso and the valley between
his buttocks I began to massage his side with long sweeping movements from
halfway down his leg up past his backside and stopping just below his
armpit. Then back down again. Slowly, gently. Then repeat. And
again. And all the time Alan's breathing remained constant. Coming
back down from his armpit for the fourth or fifth time I stopped when I reached
the top of his leg and diverted my hand over the summit and towards his pubic
area.
Again I moved slowly, fingertips
caressing first the inner side of his legs, then moving on slowly towards his
pubic mound. I flattened my hand and rubbed gently with my palm.
There was no sign at all of any hair, neither on his belly or his pubic
area. Alan was totally smooth.
I took a deep breath and felt my cock
jerk a little. I'd had to shave my pubes when I'd had my vasectomy almost
thirty years earlier and remembered going a bit overboard, getting myself
smooth right up to my belly button. I remember the feeling of soaping
between my legs in the shower the morning before my snip – it was delicious –
it made me feel like a boy again, but one who had a huge dick for a
child. Unfortunately the prickliness as the hair grew back had been so
irritating that it'd deterred me from trying again. But as I continued to
explore around that part of his body it seemed that Alan was totally smooth
with no sign of any prickles at all.
I moved my hand down towards his
penis and for the first time in my adult life felt someone else's dick. I
explored gingerly at first, with the tips of my fingers, running them up and
down the shaft. His cock was hard, and pulsing gently. I ran my
fingers right to the end – to the slit – from which a warm sticky liquid was
starting to seep. I ran my fingertip backwards and forwards across the
tip and felt the flow increase. Moving my fingertip in small but ever
increasing circles I spread his pre-cum all around the head of his dick.
"Hmmmm!"
Alan groaned and shifted his leg very slightly. "That feels nice."
I made the old `wankers O' with my
thumb and index finger, and slid it down over the head of his penis. I
was amazed at the amount of pre-cum he was producing, and wondered if I'd
actually made him come. Running my finger and thumb up and down to the
top of his dick a couple of times provided a huge amount of lubrication and it
was soon wet enough for me to be able to move my hand further down his shaft
and start to gently jerk him off. It'd been almost fifty years since I'd
wanked anyone off, and I was surprised by how little give there appeared to be
in the skin of his shaft. When I wanked myself I pulled the foreskin
backwards and forwards over the head. Alan was so hard that he didn't
have the extra skin to do this, but fortunately he was so wet that I was able
to just run my fist up and down the shaft and stimulate him that way. As
I did so I couldn't help but start to hump myself against his back and to lean
my head forward and kiss his shoulder.
"That's nice," he whispered.
"What?"
"Everything... Are you sure you
haven't had a secret life?"
I continued to wank him, and at the
same time to move my hips and grind my dick into his back with more
intensity. "What d'you mean?"
"If you haven't done this before then
you're a natural." He gave out a groan which I took to be one of
pleasure. "This is beautiful. So gentle." He groaned again.
I kept rubbing myself into his back,
and felt my breathing becoming heavier. "This feels amazing," I whispered
into his ear.
Alan now began to move his hips
backwards and forward in time with mine, helping his prick to slide through the
ring made by my fingers and assisting my efforts in stimulating myself.
In turn I moved harder and harder
against his back, and both of us began to pant with the exertion.
My legs began to tremble, and I could
tell that I wasn't far from ejaculating. It was either stop or
come. "I can't keep this up much longer. Or I'll shoot."
"Me too," gasped Alan, his voice
almost a growl. His hips were now pounding backwards and forward –
fucking my hand, in effect. "Go on, come. Come all over me..."
Alan then let out a huge roar and I felt him spasm as jets of warm spunk shot
out of the end of his dick. My hand at been at the top of his penis as he
came, so my palm and wrist was covered by his semen.
This was all too much for me to bear,
and I humped a couple more times, then began shooting my own load against his
back. Following Alan's lead I gave up all inhibitions and let out a loud
roar at each spasm. There was something primal about calling out as the
pleasure pulsed through me.
When I was done I didn't stop
grinding my hips entirely. Instead I just kept circling them, rubbing my
spunk all around Alan's lower back and buttocks. I also kept wanking
Alan, albeit very slowly and gently, using his cum as lubricant over the head
of his slowly deflating penis. But, exquisite as the feelings I was
getting from this were, I was soon exhausted and had to stop. With a huge
sigh I let go of Alan and fell onto my back. I kicked off the duvet and
lay there, totally naked, my belly and penis covered in my spunk, my heart
pounding, luxuriating in the best post orgasm glow I'd probably ever felt.
"That was fucking amazing," I
eventually managed to utter.
Alan reached down his side of the bed
and flicked a switch which turned on some very low intensity bulbs almost at
floor level. Then he propped himself up on his elbow and looked at
me. "It was, wasn't it!"
He leant forward and kissed me on the
lips. I pushed my head towards him and we joined together in a long
snog. His free hand moved down to my now wilted penis and he grabbed it
gently. "This old thing's been quite busy tonight, hasn't it. Felt
like quite a geyser gushing onto my back." He laughed.
"I'm sorry," I stuttered. "I
couldn't help myself. I just had to shoot."
"Do you know what?" He gave me
another kiss. "One of the things I really like is being covered in
cum. Either my own. Or preferably a mate's."
I looked at him with my eyes wide
open.
"See – we don't need to pretend
anything now, see. I can say and do what I want." He smiled.
"And I like cum!" He reached round to his back and scraped off some of
what I'd deposited a couple of minutes earlier. He licked his
fingers. "Mmmm! And I particularly like
yours!"
He leant forward and kissed me again,
this time transferring a bit of my own cum from his lips onto mine.
"Jesus Christ, Alan," I gasped when we
broke the kiss, "this is filthy. Filthy but totally wonderful."
Alan turned onto his back, and we lay
together with the sides of our bodies, now all sweaty and cummy,
touching each other. He laid his hand over my penis and began playing
with it – very lightly and almost absentmindedly in the way a small boy might
play with his willy without much thinking about it. I reached out my hand
and did the same to him. His penis was soft and sticky, and I couldn't
resist taking some of the stickiness and licking it. Then, as I savoured
it I returned my hand and continued to nonchalantly play with him.
We lay in silence, enjoying that
feeling of intense calm that comes after a really good orgasm. I don't
know how long we remained there with each other's penises in our hands coming
down from our orgasmic high, but at some point we both fell asleep again.