[Promiscuous Top] Beautiful Rebound

[Feeder]

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Today I ran over to the West Village to squirt my semen in the creamy, smooth, shapely buttocks of a very handsome little fellow. He hit me up on BBRT with pictures that had not yet been approved, so I assume he had just created his profile, and by the time I was done stuffing him full of cock and cum an hour and a half later, I found out why. I don't spend much time talking to dudes with no pix, but he told me he could mail them to me. I had them in two minutes, and they looked mighty fine-- a sweet, beautifully proportioned, naturally muscular body, perfectly smooth which is not my favorite but given that v-shaped curve leading from his armpit to his little waist, I didn't care. His face was a little boyish/impish for me in the photos, but when I asked him if he wanted me to come over there and eat out his ass and flood it with cum, he immediately said "Yes" and included his cell number. I had his address in five minutes and was out the door to deep dick his sweet little body.

He had told me he was in the "studio" which I took to mean basement apartment of the brownstone I arrived at. As I approached the gate to go down, a really cute guy walked up to me, calling out, "Hello!" I turned and started walking up to him, thinking wow he looks REALLY good in person, only to realize before reaching for his hand that this was not him but some random guy talking on his cell phone who happened to be perfectly facing me as he approached. I felt like an idiot and turned back to the gate; the guy on the phone barely even registered this weird horny dude approaching him. I fumbled around with the gate and went down into a very gloomy spot under the stairs, and the door underneath opened.

He looked much, much better than his pictures-- maybe not as hot as the dude on the phone, who was hairy and bearded and totally my type, but he didn't look at all impish in real life, much more handsome and glamorous almost, like a 50s movie star. His little body sang out to my nuts from inside his baseball shirt and cargo pants-- he filled his clothes out beautifully and I longed to peel them off him and get my dick inside him. He was kind of chatty and flitty and I thought maybe he wasn't attracted to me, but when I pulled him to me he swung his hips against mine and wrapped his hands around me and let me suck on his neck with a grateful sigh that things were beginning. We kissed and groped each other and I was feeling very fine, but then he said he needed to take a leak. "I've had a bunch of beer," he said apologetically, and I told him that as long as he was going to go, so should I. He let me go first, and then told me to go get in his bed. I always feel a little self-conscious getting naked before festivities are well under way; my body sucks and I don't get hard instantly like some guys, and I'm a real grower. But his energy was good and so I did as he said, hopped in his bed wearing just a t-shirt, opened my legs, and waited. When he came in he started stripping too, and told me to take off the shirt. I glumly obeyed, but he crawled up to me, seemingly happy with my middle-aged schlubbiness, and we made out some. He bent down and sucked my dick into his handsome lips and worked my meat over with strange, long strokes of intense suction, stretching me out like cock-flavored taffy. I stroked my fingers along his stubbled jaw, which was strongly chiseled into his skin and had a curve to it that was exciting to trace with my hands as he sucked me in and streeeetched me out, sucked me in and streeeetched me out. His big shoulders and rock-hard arms were out of sight. But all this was exciting me more in my mind and in my nuts than the technique was making my dick hard, and I worried I would easily cum before I was even erect. So I pulled him up to kiss some more, then slid behind him and ate out his sweet, plump, round, hairless ass.

He was oddly quiet through all this. But it made my dick hard as a rock-- his legs were thick with firm muscles and I was able to suck both of his balls into my mouth at the same time while making the rounds down there between his legs. So I brought my now hard and respectably big dick up to his face, and watched him suckle me beside him, eyes closed angelically, body sprawled out on the mattress showing off all the beautiful curves, valleys, and dimples of his shape. Very exciting. I slid back behind him, ate him out a little more, and as he huffed and huffed on poppers, I slid my dick into him-- once I found the right angle, it went in in one smooth motion. His ass was perfect and I watched my dick slide in and out of it with an animal stupidity. I've slid my dick in and out of hundreds of asses at this point. And I never get tired of the sight. It is a primal thing, there is a circuit in my brain that evolved to recognize the beauty of this act. I still felt like I could cum any second, so I slid in and out of him very slowly, with long deep strokes, pulling all the way out each time, so I could see my engorged dickhead appearing and disappearing from his body. And then I lay my body down on his, sucked on his ear, pressed on him with all my weight, and pushed in deep so my meat would graze his prostate over and over.

The look on his face was almost the look of a contortion of pain. I asked if he was ok, and he nodded-- he looked like he might cry. I held his body and stroked him while I fucked him long and slow again-- all the way in, all the way out-- hoping he was feeling some of the pleasure I was feeling. It was very hard to tell.

I flipped him on his back, and he pulled back his legs, and I was able to push my dick back into him this way completely unguided-- just a press of my hips and I was sinking back in. His insides were beautifully slippery and viscous and warm. His face opened completely, and he stared at me with a naked interest as I drilled into him. Again it was very hard to gauge-- almost a hard appraising look, a satisfaction that I was clearly losing control and getting very hot under the collar. His body was so beautiful below me, those thick limbs, those big shoulders, that sweetly handsome face and milky skin so aberrant against all that corporeal manliness. I fucked him slow and kissed him and told him how good he was making me feel, and he smiled at me knowingly and just kept watching. My dick was screaming in agony with the need to cum, and again, like last time, I felt a long viscous snake of semen work its way out of my nuts, through all my tubes, and out my dickhole and into his body. I held still and let it go, and some of the pressure was eased and now of course he was very wet inside with both our secretions mingling there in the dark. I fucked him more athletically, and he kept saying my name, kept saying "I like it, , it feels good, ". I'm always a little weirded out when dudes say my name when I'm fucking them-- I always wonder if it isn't a little put-on, and I wasn't even sure I remembered what his name was at the time-- but I assume it means he's really feeling something if he wants to say my name. So I kept fucking him and looking into his eyes until I was losing it again. I felt myself cumming so I stepped it up and rammed him hard, pounding him into the mattress as I sprayed out my load; the fucking was so hard I couldn't even feel my dick pulsing because I was hammering it into him so forcefully. When my orgasm ebbed I just keep plowing, it felt so good to stretch and pound against his meaty body, and he reached down to his dick for the first time and began pulling on it, staring at me with a rapt expression, clearly enjoying the power he had over my nuts. But he wasn't hard and it didn't look like he would cum any time soon. I stopped the onslaught, and kissed him deeply, just feeling the warmth from my groin radiate all over my body, and then I pulled up, left my tool buried in him deep, and just touched his beautiful white body all over.

"God that felt good," I said. "I drank way too much," he said, "that's why I can't get hard. I had two tequila shots and two beers." I faintly smelled alcohol on his breath. I was stroking his body all over and still pushing my dick in him as deep as it would go. "Well, MY dick got hard!" I said proudly, and he murmured something like "good". We had an absurd conversation as I felt his hole tighten around my softening dick; he hadn't worked today and had spent the day blowing off some steam, and his apartment was nice, blablabla... and my dick was still inside him. Finally I decided it might be good to pull out and talk from a more reasonable position, so I pulled, and slowly I popped out. I lay back beside him and he curled up to me very nicely, like a cat. His beautiful hip was on display as he draped his leg over me. He had lived in this apartment "forever", he said. "Back when it was cheap!" I said; the West Village is now ridiculously expensive but was not really so maybe 15 years ago. He told me it was still cheap. We bonded a bit over living in buildings that were affordable by mortals when we bought them but which are now available only to people orders of magnitude richer than us. "Alienating is a good way to put it," he said when I suggested that's how it felt to me. And I noticed he was getting very interested in the things I was saying, and curling up to me a bit more. He told me he would leave New York if he won the lottery and could set himself up wherever; he grew up in Jersey and had basically always lived around here. We talked a little about other places I'd lived and why I don't miss DC. A sweet circle of intimacy was drawing up around us, but I felt a little threatened by it; I figured it might be good to mention casually that I had a partner, in case he was feeling a little too cuddly or led on. So I casually said, "I have a lot of old friends here, and I have a partner, so I don't meet tons of new people out and about. But I find New York a friendlier place that DC or other places were." And it was as I expected; he pulled away a bit, and said, "Oh, you have a partner." And I simply said I did, and deflected the conversation a bit to the holidays. And this is when he really shut down.

"I went to New Jersey with my boyfriend to be with my family," he said, moving to lie on his back. "Ah, you have a boyfriend?" I asked, a little relieved-- I wasn't crushing some dream he might have of seeing me again or something-- but also a little puzzled, because he had clearly recoiled when I said I was hitched. "Does he live here with you?"

"No," he said. "He lives down the street. And he broke up with me yesterday to be with his partner of 14 years."

YOWCH! Breaking up with someone on New Year's Day! That shit is COLD.

Things suddenly made some sense to me-- the new profile, the sudden urgency about hooking up, the boozing, the weird detachment during sex, everything. He was trying to get over one man by getting under another one. I felt terrible for him.

"Oh man," was all I could say. He was getting up and picking up his clothes. Apparently they had been together for about 5 months. "To be honest, I'm a complete emotional wreck today." I got up and put my arms around him and told him it was OK and to be expected. He kissed me and I held him a little. Then he pushed away a little and changed his tone of voice and asked me about work. We chatted a bit and I got dressed and wavered between trying to comfort him somehow and getting out of his hair. When I was finally dressed he looked at my body and legs forlornly, then focused on my safety orange sneakers. "Nice shoes," he said, and looked at me with a sad smile. I pulled him to me and kissed him one last time, told him I had a good time and would love to come back and fuck him sometime when he was feeling better. He said he thought that should happen. And he let me out.

It had started snowing while we were fucking; hard little pellets were now banging against me in a brisk wind. But the street was totally silent, a very non-New York silence. It reminded me of when I was a kid, and we got a rare snow down there, and everything would have that unusual quietness, and anyone you saw in the street, people who would normally ignore you, would smile and say hello. I felt terrible for the guy on the way back to the subway, and thought about him getting online and defiantly fucking someone else as if to say good riddance. I wondered how the sex would have been if he had been in a different mental state. Or if he'd hooked up with someone else who had fucked him mechanically. Or if I hadn't ever mentioned my partner at all-- I would have had this deeply intimate encounter, penetrated and ejaculated in his body, and never known what was really going on inside him.

The snow is deepening as I write this, and he's there alone in his basement apartment with my cum inside him and a missing boyfriend. I cooked a nice dinner for my partner and we will cuddle up to watch TV later. I wish that guy well, but can't help but feel that despite filling him up for a while with what I had, I somehow took even more from him when he had nothing else to give.

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