As I have said before, I wrote up most of the blogs for the past two weeks before my trip to Colorado so that I would have some posts going up while I was gone and busy with school. I decided to just let the blogs post as planned when I was forced to come home early as a bit of a break for myself, but I had to post a quick interruption. This isn't to talk about why I left early or what happened to me in Colorado or to talk about hotties that were there--I am actually going to talk about that, just later. This interruption is something you'll all probably find wildly more interesting.
I was having dinner with my mom last night when she dropped the name of a man I hadn't heard in years, though she didn't have any idea that I knew who she was talking about. She often mentions people she's met who I don't know, somewhat of a symptom of me not living here for four years. But this guy was someone I did know, and I mean in the biblical sense.
Tony was one of the last three men I ever had sex with before I left for my freshman year of college, but that wasn't when I met him. I had met him earlier that summer while volunteering at a Goodwill store. I actually made a habit of volunteering at the Goodwill stores, not because I had to get hours, but because I enjoyed doing the manual labor in the back of the stores and it generally kept me from sitting at home and going insane on days I didn't work in the summers. I'm the type of guy who needs a goal or something to strive for because, if I don't, I'm happily able to waste an entire day watching TV or sleeping. So Goodwill helped me stay on my game. And every year I volunteered I did it at a different store to mix things up.
The summer before I left for college I worked at a bigger store with more stuff to do in the back. So I wasn't the only guy they had working out back (sexist or not, women just had more trouble moving the heavy boxes). Tony was my compatriot in moving boxes and putting clothes on racks to be taken out into the store. The back room was always so fun. We'd turn on a radio and listen to music, talk, or sometimes play fun games while we worked and the time flew by. Tony and I made friends quickly and he was impressed that I wanted to go to college and major in Creative Writing. He had never been driven academically and preferred leaving high school and going out into the real world. At this point I think Tony was nearing thirty and thinking about finding a career path he could settle into.
I was seventeen and very interested in Tony. He was the kind of guy who always looked like he was just letting life happen, nothing seemed to bother him. All the teen issues I was having seemed a piece of cake to him. I was attracted to his simple-living mindset. Plus, I was very interested in the bulge I could see in his tight pants daily. And the interest was mutual.
We would find ways to be working together in a tight space or to bump into each other as we walked past. At first I assumed he was just pushing me around, innocently like friends do, and that I was the only one interested in doing anything sexual. But then, as I remember, one time when I was pushing some boxes on a dolly by him, he reached out and grabbed my ass with his hand quickly so that no one saw. I wasn't expecting it and nearly jumped and dropped the boxes. Fortunately I saved my balance and kept going.
Later that day we were having our lunch break out back behind the building (summers are nice in Maine, but also short, so you get what you can in). It was just the two of us and we had been exchanging what I felt were meaningful glances over out meals before he walked away from the door to smoke. I looked around and then got up and walked over to where he was standing and while looking him in the eye, I reached out and grabbed the bulge in his pants. He seemed surprised but also very happy that I had made a move. He quickly kissed me, tasting badly of cigarettes, and said, "We'll finish this later."
That afternoon I followed him back to his place instead of driving home and I got to touch his cock ouside of his pants. I remember he had a thick cock and I struggled to give him a blow job without scraping my teeth, but I managed as we sixty-nined on his couch. I stroked my hands all over his body, moving around beside him while he sucked me off, taking as much of his cock as I could. He came first and pretty quickly, shooting into my mouth. He is one of the few guys I've sucked who had cum that tasted so bad to me that I thought about spitting it out, but I managed to swallow it and kept swallowing until the strange after taste was gone.
By the time I came he was hard again and wanting me to suck him again before I left. I didn't really want to taste his cum so I leaned back and pulled my legs up. "Fuck me," I said.
"Are you sure?" he asked. I think he was a little surprised a young guy was being this direct with him.
"Fuck me." It wasn't a request. I was ordering him now. With my legs pulled up he fingered me open and then lined up his cock. He had a hard time getting in, he was just that wide, but I gritted my teeth through the pain and he was patient. Soon I was open enough for him to move around, but I could tell by the way he fucked that he was not used to topping. I certainly was not getting hard again from his movements.
Frustraited I had him lay on his back and I straddled him, sliding slowly down into his lap, making his cock go where I wanted it to. With myself in control I was able to make sure every thrust hit me in the right spot and my cock quickly grew hard again. He was almost totally submissive to my work, allowing me to basically top him from the bottom. Now-a-days I likely would have used his submission to my advantage, taking his ass for myself, but back then I thought of sex mostly in terms of what was next going to be put in my ass, so instead I used him for my own anal pleasure.
At some point while I was riding him he came again, but I didn't stop. He made a move to pull out, but I pushed him back on the couch and rode him until I felt my own orgasm building back up and I began to shoot my load over his chest. At some point his cock went soft and just fell out of me. I stood up and dressed quickly, leaving him still naked on his couch. I was running late getting home.
The work flirtation continued and he and I fucked more before I left for school, but for the most part he just let me do the work as far as sex was concerned. I remember the last time we hooked up was just days before I left for Ohio, and I spent the entire time with him on his back, on his bed, me riding him. Every so often he would buck his hips or shift my position, but mostly I was in control. I began to fantasize about having him bound and blindfolded so that I was in total control, but in reality it would not have changed the dynamic much: I was already in total control.
All this went through my mind when my mom brought him up at dinner. Fortunately I have a good poker face because I never let on that I knew him. He doesn't work at Goodwill anymore, but clearly he is still in the area. I can't decide if I should check in on him or not. He might not even recognize me. He probably has moved on. I don't think I will go see him. I'm a totally different person now and so is he. We probably don't click anymore. But, that summer, we certainly did.