My Life As A Gay Man : Derek, The Handsomest Man I Ever Had: l

My Life As A Gay Man : Derek, The Handsomest Man I Ever Had: l

Looking back at it all now, through the lingering after haze, I wonder if the drugs were what it all had been about. Like I’ve said before, I never go after the stuff or use it regularly, but if a guy offers … And if Tina and G had been responsible, so what? I still had had probably the two most sensual hours of my life with the sexiest guy I had ever had in my long and checkered gay career.  On a scale of 1 to 10 as far as my type’s concerned, he was a 14.

Derek and I met – where else – but on one of the hook-up sites. It was almost two in the morning that first time. I had come home from another Tuesday underwear night at the Ramrod where I had slugged down four free rum and cokes in an hour in exchange for prancing around in my leather jock-strap and only went online when I got home out of my insatiable curiosity. When I saw his profile, a six foot, 180 pounds of, beefy  hairy man, 39, mostly donned in leather, with  dark hair and a ruggedly handsome, bearded face that would make any Hollywood scout whip out his casting couch, I hit him up as a joke, expecting no response.

Instead, he came back in seconds, mentioned he had seen me around and had wanted to hang with me for awhile. Huh. Oh, and he wanted to do it now. Right now.  My place.

I quick popped a Viagra, whisked out my leather harness and boots from my closet – he said that leather was a turn-on for him – and waited, with a pair of loose cut-offs and my leather jockstrap underneath, still expecting a no-show. Instead, what walked into my house 15 minutes later was one of the handsomest men I ever bedded down with.

His profile pics didn’t do him justice. He was all man, but not in a loud brassy way. Level headed sounding and bare chested ,he didn’t need the  those chaps (with that beautiful, manly hairy butt hanging out) to make him Pure Hunk.  He smiled broadly and gave me a kiss barely in the door.

“I’ve seen you around,” he murmured, “Ramrod, Clubhouse. In fact, I was just at the Clubhouse tonight. Supposed to be Leather Night, but Jesus …”

Clubhouse II was a bath house I had gone to religiously for years til it got tired and old, and Slammers opened.

“Yea, I know, pretty pitiful, huh,” I replied, gesturing him to follow me to the back bedroom. I still didn’t believe this was all going to happen.

I plopped down on the setae (perfect for sucking a guy’s cock) across from the bed as he sat down on the edge of the mattress.

“Like I said,” he murmured, “I’ve been wanting to make it with you for – well, for years. But I didn’t think you were interested in me …”

“Well, if I never looked your way, it was probably because I thought you were out of my league.”

“You’re kidding,” he said, standing in front of me, his leathered crotch practically in my face. “You are beautiful. Love the fur, love the face, love the body.”

I sniffed his crouch deeply, and then gave it a playful kiss.

“So why don’t we get down to the essentials and see what all the fuss is about?” I said, peeling off my shorts.

“Sure,” he said, unbuckling his chaps, “just one thing, mind if I take a hit?”

I shrugged my shoulders and played blasé as he pulled a thin clear plastic needle from his knapsack and shot himself in the arm.

Just like that.

“Just some Tina but it works faster this way – you want?”

“No, otherwise Mr. Peter” – I touched my rising dick – “ain’t gonna keep that hairy butt of yours happy.”

“Don’t worry, “ he smiled back. “ I’m happy already.”

A moment and he was down on his knees sucking my cock through my jockstrap which I flung to the floor ten seconds later.

“Fucken beautiful dick, man,” as he gently stroked my furry abs and chest and I softly pulled on his hairy nips and stroked his beefy, lightly furry chest.

“Like that Daddy Dick?” I prompted.

“Love that Daddy Dick,” he replied, softly kissing the cockhead.

Though my dick was hard, I knew it was not at its full potential, as I waited for that little click in my head to tell me my Viagra had kicked into overdrive, but that didn’t happen.

Not because of any deficiencies in the Furry Adonis in front of me, that was for sure, but probably the liquor I had consumed like an alcoholic trying to break some Ramrod Underwear Night Record less than an hour before.

“Let me suck your cock,” I said, gesturing Derek to stand up.  I rightly figured all my sucking wasn’t going to do much good with Girl Tina coursing through his veins. But I persevered for a few more minutes, then, bouncing my cock on my hand, asked the inevitable question every Top asks His Bottom.

“Want this Daddy Dick, boy?”

Without another word spoken, he got on his stomach, that broad shouldered lightly fuzzy back before me and  that beefy, fury butt in my face as I tongued his hole and he moaned – like a man –  “Fucken A, Dad, Fucken A.”  Then I stood up, satisfied Mr. Peter was ready, pulled his butt close to me and entered him.

He seemed to like it – like it a lot, but I was just not happy with my performance and wish we had connected three hours ago, not now in the middle of the night with a liter of Bacardi in me. But I plowed him for a good half hour, in between tonguing his hole and he sucking my dick til we both lay quiet and sweaty on the bed.

“Sorry, man, all those free drinks at Ramrod zapped me.”

“Man, are you kidding, you were great. I wanna do it again with you, buddy.”

“At a civilized hour,” I added. “By the way, can you get those shots for the dick, you know the kind that keep those porn stars up and at it. I’ll – I’ll pay you ….”

“Sure, no problem.”

“Good, ‘cause next time I wanna plow you all night.”

We spoke about  things other than sex for another half hour. He was an exec at a local IT company, and was about ready to close on a nice condo by the beach, for which he was paying in cash, and added he was virtually debt free. Somehow, though, all that sensibility and him shooting up at 2 in the morning didn’t seem to fit in my pragmatic mind. I had had a super stress, 60 hour a week PR job back in the Big Apple and I know damn well they didn’t pay you good money just to look pretty. So how did he do it? It was almost 4 when he collected his stuff and gave me a parting kiss.

Despite Derek’s protests that Mr. Peter had kept him happy, I thought I would never hear from him again. So, a couple of days later, I decided to accelerate the dialogue and e’d him an offer no meth head, if that’s what he was, could refuse:  “Next time, I’ll contribute to the party favors and pay you for that shot for my dick.”

He got back to me the next night, set a tentative date for that Thursday around 9, and all through that Thursday afternoon and evening he texted me to keep me abreast of what was going with his “supplier” in – where else – Miami.

“How much will I owe you?” I texted back.

“One twenty five should do it.”

With my cellphone sitting on my car seat, I drove to the ATM for some more cash, got back, took my shower  and waited. Sure I had done junk in the past, like with Mitch, but always paid for the high with a soft dick. This time I was going to have the best of both worlds – Cloud Nine while I fucked one hot motherfucker with a Daddy Dick that wouldn’t quit.

Nine o’clock became 10, then 10:30. “This guy is never on time,” quipped Billy.

“Can I take a Viagra?”

“Sure, why not? I should be at your place by 11 max.”

Forty five minters later, just as I was feeling my Big V hitting its peak, Billy arrived, dressed like he had been our first time in chaps, and a bare-chested vest.

“So how long for the shot to take effect?”  I asked as I dropped by shorts and stared at the ceiling while he jabbed my cock.

“Just a few minutes,“ he replied, his hands massaging my penis like he was kneading dough for a pizza. “Keep doing that for a few minutes, “ he instructed as he got the junk out of his knapsack and spread his paraphernalia of pleasure over my oak dining room table.

I looked down as my dick quickly rose to attention with really nothing to excite me. Hell, someone could be reciting the telephone directory and I would be hard. But I think the biggest surprise was all the sensation I felt. I had mistakenly thought the shot was all for looks but that your dick would feel numbed up. No way. And that sensation soon swept throughout my body as I snorted the Tina he had brought for me through a rolled up twenty dollar bill from the stack of bills lying on the bureau as his payment in full.

“A straw’s the best,” said Derek as he shot himself in the arm, “but a bill will always do in a pinch.”

With all these clinical mechanics now behind us, we drifted to the back bedroom. One last touch – a slug of G for each of us in some grapefruit juice he had brought along – and the Elevator to Arousal Land was on its way straight to the penthouse suite.

Now I know from past drug experiences that Tina and coke and G make you feel like you’re with the sexiest man alive even if he looked like an extra from Central Troll Casting. But what I wasn’t ready for was the extreme sensuality that the drugs created on and through every square inch of your body. Derek  had me stand up in front of him as he sat on the setae and ever so slowly stroked my dick with a soft hair brush. It was like electricity was streaming throughout my being. Everywhere he touched me was golden and I could see he felt the same as I touched him. His mouth on my cock upped the sensitivity geometrically and by the time I got to fucking him – in every possible position – it was as if we had both been born for this moment.

I knew then and still feel today that, drugs or no drugs, those hours I spent that night with Derek were the most sensual experience I ever had and would ever have with another guy, and that I could now die a happy gay man.

Then at about 1, he abruptly stopped, I thought for a breather, when instead he announced he would have to go soon.

“Hate to leave you like that Daddy,” gazing at my tool, still as stiff as ever despite almost two hours of sucking and fucking, “but I got a buddy coming in from L.A. for the weekend on a red-eye and I’ve got to pick him up at the airport.”

The perpetual cynic in me suddenly wondered if all these histrionics had been a ploy to get me to pay for his high, but, hell, I had had my share of sexual delights, too, and was strangely content – for a change – to have lived purely in, and for the moment.

After all, no matter where we are in life or where life has taken us or will take us, is there anything else but right now?

Mr. Peter, though, wasn’t through for the night, and after Derek left me, I went back on the web, determined, no, obsessed like some insatiable bounty hunter to find an ass – or maybe two – to fuck.

I found one ten minutes from me, a non-descript, hairless, slightly fem fifty something Latin guy who moaned like a woman as I screwed him. Then came a second, also Latin, but much younger and a good looker who had been wooing me for a while, but who lived a good 40 minutes away. But no matter. Mr. Peter was on a mission. It wasn’t until almost 5 that morning after I had finally relieved myself with some porn on xtube that Mr. Peter was satisfied and I collapsed into bed.

Funny, but while canvassing the “I want It Now” boys on the web that night, I found Derek still there, searching, too, this time with a new headline, “Two bottoms looking for hot tops,” the other guy apparently his L.A. buddy.

Now, at that time l taught online with no set schedule but how could Derek still be out there looking when he supposedly had such a responsible and demanding a job. Like an expression auditors at the hospital I worked at back in New York used when financial statements were awry,  it just didn’t foot.

In the week that followed, I made it a point to check at all hours of the night, usually when I got up to take a leak, to see if Derek was on (was I becoming a stalker?) and noticed he was almost always there, ready for action. Sure, maybe he had just forgotten to log off. Or was this tale of being a hot shot compliance officer and  buying a condo for cash all horse shit and that he was actually a stone cold addict feeding his habit off the kindness of strangers, suckers like me who he could easily manipulate with one matinee smile?

But we’re all adult men, aren’t we, with the right to make choices for ourselves, both good and bad. And even I was tempted to shoot over an e-mail offering to “contribute” again.

After all, why have the most sensual  night of your life just once?

I did e-mail him one more time but when a week went by with no response, I moved on.

But the next time I hit McDonald’s  for a Big Mac and Coke,  I made sure to save the straw.

Just in  case.

 

More Wednesday.

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