The Apartment, Part 1 free porn video

Preface 

This story is based partially on a true event. Someone very close to me found my profile on Prodigy (remember that early ISP?) and used it as a way to come out to me that he was gay. Of course I already knew that about this person. I just didn’t know that he was also posing as a woman in a bisexual chat room at 1200 baud… So this story starts with lots of exposition on that theme. It also explores a favorite fantasy of mine, but we’ll just let you guess about that. For those of you in a hurry you might want to just scroll down to the last third of the story. For those of you who enjoy good literature and witty repartee, I’m sorry, but you’ve taken a wrong turn.

 *

“So, we need to talk,” Roger said quietly. We were sitting on our two favorite stools at the far end of the bar, where it bent around into a nook. A great location for conversation or people watching, and we could still see the TV. Not that we wanted to see the TV right then. The Nats pitching staff were dropping another heartbreaker in the late innings. So much for making the playoffs this season.
“What’s up?” I asked, taking a sip of my margarita. I gave Angela the bartender my private, secret recipe and always ordered a double that I could nurse awhile. I noticed that Roger seemed a bit nervous.

“I…it could…hell, this is awkward,” Roger hesitated.

“Hey, we’ve known each other for a long time, and we’ve been through a lot together,” I said, putting my hand on his shoulder. “What is it? Problems at home? Do you need a loan? Are you moving out?”

The last question related to our living arrangement. Roger and I shared a pied-a-terre for business purposes in Northern Virginia, right across the river from Washington. It was a nice two bedroom in a high rise with all the amenities, close to a Metro station and shopping. We were both government consultants who traveled a lot. It was rare that we were both in town on the same night. Whenever that happened we often came to this bar, which was in retail space on the first floor of our building. 

“No, no, it’s none of those,” Roger said, literally wringing his hands. “Damn, this is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.”

“Whoa, now I’m getting worried,” I said. “Have I done something to offend you? Please know that I would never do that purposefully.” I was fishing, trying to get my friend and roommate to open up.

“Okay, here goes,” he said, taking a big sip of his Chardonnay. “I was doing some reading online last week, and I came across some information about you.”

“Wow, do I need to google myself? Is it negative in some way?” I asked.

“Well, I guess that depends on your point of view,” Roger was still hesitating. He took yet another sip of white wine and screwed up his courage. “Steve, it was on Lush Stories.”

“Oh, I see,” I said, my mind racing. So what could be so bad? Roger was Catholic and a retiree from the US Air Force. But he was definitely not a political conservative or a prude. In fact, he had campaigned for Obama in 2012, and had watched some of that HBO softcore porn together a couple of times. It had to be about my profile and stories. “So you learned that I’m bi? Is that the problem?”

“Yes and no,” Roger said. Sweat was actually breaking out on his forehead, and I saw a quiver in his lip. “Yes, I was surprised to see you so openly embracing your sexuality. And your stories leave very little to the imagination. And you acknowledge in your profile that they are often based on true events.”

I took a deep breath. “So Roger, let’s clear the air,” I said, taking a matter-of-fact approach. “Yes, I’m bisexual, and I’m a swinger. Carol (my wife) has always known about my bisexuality, and while she doesn’t swing herself, she is actually supportive of my lifestyle choices, as long as I play safe and sane. Does any of this offend or upset you? If so, I regret that, but I am who I am.”

“No, no, no,” Roger shook his head. “I’m not upset or offended. It’s just that…that…Steve, I’m gay,” he said with a rush.

“And that’s supposed to be news to me?” I asked calmly, looking him dead in the eye.

That pulled him up short. Roger looked shocked. Here’s a guy who had a long military career, making it all the way to full Colonel before he retired. Who made his living now advising politicians and bureaucrats. And who thought that the world had no idea about his proclivities, and would judge him if they did. I was shaking him to his core. He all but blubbered, and couldn’t get a response out.

“Roger, you were in the Glee Club in college. You sing Broadway and Streisand tunes in the shower. You and I keep the apartment cleaner than our wives keep our homes. We’ve been friends for nearly ten years, and we’ve been sharing an apartment for the past eighteen months. I’ve got a well-honed ‘gaydar’ from my years of swinging experience. How do you expect me to not have some idea?” I asked, smiling broadly and patting his shoulder.

“I…I don’t know what to say,” Roger stammered. “How did you…what do you think…do you think other people know?”

“I doubt it, seriously,” I said, reassuring him. “But even if they do it’s no big deal. You’re a decorated vet, you’ve served your country a long time both in and out of uniform, and you’re a respected expert in your field. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but over the past five years or so people have just stopped stigmatizing the queer community so much. All the LGBT activism, TV and movies, and prominent people having the guts to come out are having a real effect. The only people here in town that care if you’re gay or not are all Tea Party members, and they’re not your client base anyway, so fuck ‘em.” Then I turned to Angela and gave her the signal for another round.

We sat and talked for another thirty minutes. Roger told me that Denise had always known about him (they were high school sweet hearts who raised three boys together) but was still up tight about it. I explained my open relationship with Carol, and shocked Roger further when I told him that our two grown kids (one boy, one girl) knew about me. He asked a lot of questions about how I could be so calm and open. I explained my philosophy, and pointed out that I was also an expert in my field, and could pick and choose my clients. If any client ever raised the question of sexuality in a business setting I simply got up and walked out, or hung up the phone. That had only happened once. It was a lot to process for both of us, but Roger was coming from a much more difficult viewpoint. 

I paid our tab and said, “Okay, my back has had as much of this stool as I can take, even with margarita anesthesia. Let’s get some air?”

We stepped out onto the sidewalk and automatically turned toward the door that would take us past our concierge and in to the elevators. But Roger stopped, clearly screwing up his courage again. I waited patiently this time for him to get to it.

“Steve, you mentioned just now that you occasionally go out to some of the gay bars in D.C.” Roger began. “Are you ready to call it a night? I’ve never been, and would like to see what they’re like.”

“My first call isn’t until afternoon tomorrow, and there’s nothing in my inbox that can’t wait. So sure, let’s go over to DuPont and see if anything’s going on,” I replied. We turned and headed for the Metro station.

Thirty minutes later we had our overpriced and under-poured drinks and had claimed a table in the corner of my favorite DuPont Circle gay bar. This was the one you had to know about. The main entrance was on an alley, and you had to have a Top Secret clearance to find out how to find the door to the private bar in back.

A couple of Congressional staffers I knew were staring into each other’s eyes and holding hands over in a far corner. There were five or six old farts like me sitting like turtles on a log on one side of the rectangular bar, staring hungrily at the other side of the rectangle where a crowd of younger guys, twinks, and CDs were assembled. There were even three male/female couples scattered at tables watching the circus.

And then the floorshow started. The lights went down (it was already too dark to see more than vague profiles) and a set of automated spotlights came on. Some European Trance music started blasting out of the speakers, and a group of six hunks dressed in posing pouches or “tighty-whitey” briefs ran out and jumped up onto the bar. Four took positions on the corners of the rectangle, while two moved to the center of the two long sides. They started the classic bump and grind that the Chippendales made famous back in the nineties.

I glanced around at Roger to see how he was taking all this in. His eyes were alight and he looked like a kid staring at the Macy’s Christmas Windows. I traced his line of sight and saw that he was focused on the blonde dancer who had a swimmer’s build and washboard abs. The kid was packing quite a sausage in thong that would probably get him arrested if the D.C. Chief of Police weren’t one of the old farts sitting at the bar. He had somehow noticed Roger staring, and they were locked in eye contact. I leaned over and yelled above the music.

“Now who’s taking chances?” My lips were about three inches from his ear, and we nearly bumped noses as his head jerked around.

“If you want to get laid, there’s a bathhouse that I would recommend. Well lit, safe, and lots of condoms available,” I continued. “But that kid probably barebacks at least two or three times a night. He’s pretty, but I don’t think Denise would appreciate your dick turning green and dropping off!”

“God, is it that obvious?” he laughed, the spell broken. “It’s been a couple of years since I’ve been with a guy, and ‘that kid’ will be in my dreams for a while. I’m ready to go when you are.”

We didn’t go to the bathhouse. Instead we went back to our apartment. I poured us each a couple of fingers of a good sipping bourbon and we put on Sports Center to find out just how disastrously the baseball game ended up. This was our natural habitat, not a loud and rowdy bar.

“So Roger, now that you’ve visited my profile on Lush, you know that I’m a nudist as much as I can be,” I said during a commercial. “Did you notice the pic of me in a thong?”

“Yeah, I did,” he said, unconsciously licking his lips. “Pretty hot. How does it feel?”

“You can borrow one and try it out if you’ll give it back clean,” I said. “The reason I ask is that when you are not around and I don’t have client meetings, a thong is my normal work uniform while I’m home-officing here. I wear them so that I can keep the window shades up (we were on the north face of the building and I liked natural light) without giving the neighbors apoplexy about the ‘ugly naked guy.’ Of course I’m under no illusions, and I realize that they may be having heart attacks anyway, but no one has ever complained. Now that we’ve opened up, would you mind if I wear them when you are here as well?”

Roger thought for a minute and said, “I can’t think of one reason why you shouldn’t. It’s your apartment too. Do you mean it that I can borrow one? Can I see what you’ve got?”

We went into my bedroom and I opened a drawer. I had about a dozen thongs that ran the gamut from sexy to lewd. Nylon, micro-fiber, silk, and even cotton in solids, stripes, peek-a-boo, see through, and mesh weaves. I pulled out my current favorite, a white see through micro fiber job with a built in elastic cock ring. I loved the feel of the material and the way the cock ring made my package stand out. I had a strict policy against video-conferencing with my clients.

“I think I’ll put this on. Go ahead and pick one out for yourself, and try it on,” I said, beginning to unbutton my shirt and stepping toward my walk-in closet.

When I came back out I was in the thong and had kept my shirt on, unbuttoned. I didn’t want to spook Roger. But he was in his bedroom with the door closed. I went back out onto the loveseat and sipped my drink. Had I already scared him off?

In a minute or two the door opened and I breathed a sigh of relief. Then I let out a wolf whistle. Roger was in a black mesh thong that left almost nothing to the imagination, and his cock was firming up and tenting out the stretch material. He had no shirt on, but he still wore his socks. Though we’d shared an apartment for eighteen months, this was the least clothing either of us had worn in the other’s presence.

“Well look at you!” I said with unfeigned enthusiasm. 

My friend and roommate was in his early fifties. He had been a fighter pilot, and like so many of his colleagues was short in stature, the better to fit into a tight cockpit. He was spouting the beginnings of a tire that he needed to keep up with, and had a mostly hairless chest. He still had a full head of milk-chocolate brown hair, which was now slightly tussled. One of the things I liked most about the guy was the way his face could light up like a little boy’s, and it was beaming like that now. His grin looked like it had to hurt it was so wide.

“What do you think?” he asked, doing a clumsy pirouette on the carpet.

“Very nice, very sexy!” I replied, following that up with another wolf whistle. “How about me?” I asked. I stood and shucked the shirt off.

He went quiet, and his look of joy was replaced by one of hunger. He licked his lips again.

“Damn, look at that,” he said quietly. I’m sure he wasn’t aware of it, but he sucked in his gut and stood up straighter.

“This one’s my favorite,” I said, running a hand across my bare buttocks and then up the side of my cock. “See how the elastic ring makes my cock stand up?” 

The ring wasn’t the only thing making my cock stand up right now. The sight of my buddy’s growing erection was contributing significantly to that effort.

“The material is see through now, but becomes almost totally transparent when it’s wet,” I continued.

“Really? I’d like to see that,” he said, almost sheepishly.

“Your wish is my command,” I replied.

I went into the kitchen and turned on the cold water. I had a double agenda at work. First I wanted to splash some cold water on my dick just in case my friend chickened out from where I thought this evening was headed. Secondly I wanted to see just how hot I could get Roger.

I had actually discussed the possibility of getting it on with Roger with my wife Carol, and she had been enthusiastic. I flashed back to that conversation when I asked her why she felt the way she did.

“Well to begin with I know that Denise is a Registered Nurse. She’d kill Roger if he ever got an STD, so I’d be pretty comfortable from that angle,” she’d said.

Carol and I had two rules: 1) don’t bring home any diseases and 2) don’t fall in love with someone else. She didn’t want all the details of my lifestyle, and I didn’t bug her about her “golf outings” with some of the guys from her Rotary club. I was wholeheartedly in support of Rule 1, and wasn’t worried about Rule 2 because I loved Carol so much, and I was sure of her love for me.

“And secondly it just makes sense,” Carol continued. “You guys share the apartment. I’m only there occasionally, and from what you tell me Denise comes in even less. If you guys can keep each other satisfied, maybe you won’t paw at me so much when you get home!” She said the last with a wink and a chuckle. We had a very healthy and happy sex life, one that was complemented, not replaced, by our extracurricular activities.

Coming back from my brief reverie I got my crotch thoroughly wet, wiped the drips with a hand towel, and moved out under the bright kitchen light. Plan one had failed. The cold water did nothing to reduce the swelling in my penile appendage. Plan two was working like a charm. Roger was staring and panting. Just then, his phone rang.

Roger and Denise called each other each night about 11:30 PM Eastern, no matter where they might be. I noticed from the kitchen clock that it was 11:45 PM. Denise was calling. Roger leapt about two feet into the air and hurried to his dresser to grab his cell phone. I took a towel to protect the leather of the loveseat from the wet and went back to Sports Center.

After a couple of minutes of “How was your day?” and “No, we don’t have insurance for that” Roger’s end of the conversation became very quiet. Presently, he came out of his bedroom holding the phone in my direction.

"She wants to talk to you,” he said. Thinking quickly, he pressed the mute button on the phone and hissed “don’t tell her about the thongs!”

I grinned, shook my head and took the phone. Taking it off mute I said “Hi Honey, how was your date with the gardener today?” Roger almost shit himself.

“Fine, I bet he’s shitting himself right now, isn’t he?” Denise replied. I liked Denise a lot. She was a smart, strong woman who had done most of the parenting of their boys while Roger was off in the desert dropping bombs on bad guys. She was two inches taller than Roger, which put her an inch and a half above me, and had one of the better sets of tatas I’d ever seen on a fifty year old woman. She kept herself in good shape.

“Yes, that’s right,” I replied cryptically.

“Listen, the reason I wanted to talk to you is that I know Roger, and I know he’ll chicken out if I let him,” she said. “God, he commanded an entire fighter base. Five thousand people worked for him and he gave orders like he was Patton or something. But put him in a relationship situation and he’s a complete wet noodle. Look, I told him about your profile.”

I let that sink in a moment, then replied “And?”

“And I told him he had to talk to you tonight,” she continued. “Not because I disapprove of you, I don’t. In fact I think you’re a damn sexy guy and if you weren’t married to Carol I would have found your profile even more interesting. Don’t tell Roger that!”

“I won’t,” I assured her. Where was this conversation going? I didn’t have long to wonder.

“Steve, Roger has been unhappy for years,” she said with a catch in her voice. “I know he loves me, but I’ve never been able to make up for the fact that he’s attracted to men. I’ve turned a blind eye and let him think he’s getting away with things on occasion, but I know for a fact that he’s been too scared to even try to sneak around on me for a couple of years. He thinks I’d leave him if he took a lover, but the fact is that I might leave him if he doesn’t. I’m an RN, and that includes a lot of psychological training. If Roger doesn’t find a guy soon, he’s going to blow a cork.”

“Well, yes, I can see that too,” I said, keeping a poker face toward Roger. He was chewing on his lips with a worried look.

“So I’m wondering if you’ll help him out?” she asked. “Give him some coaching on how to be gay or something? Help him find a nice, safe, clean guy?” she asked. “I know it’s too much to even dream that you might be that guy, but to be totally honest that would be my perfect scenario. Is that impossible? What would Carol say?”

“I think I might be able to fill that need, and I know Carol would say so too,” I replied.

“Really? That would be so wonderful!” she squealed. “Thank you! What do we do now? Do you need to talk to Carol first? Should I call her? Does she give you a kitchen pass or something?”

“I think it would be great for you and Carol to get together sometime and chat, but I know she’ll be supportive,” I said. “And I think our first step would be for you to talk to your husband again, who looks like he may have an apoplexy if I don’t give his phone back.”

Roger was practically jumping from foot to foot. Wagging his head, first back and forth and then up and down in response to his interpretation of the one side of the conversation he could hear. He didn’t realize it, but his cock was rock hard and sticking out the top of the thong. It had bounced free as he moved about. I handed the instrument back to him.

“Hello?” he said, apprehension in his voice. “Yes. Yeah? Really? And you’re okay with that? Oh God baby I love you so much! Yes. Yes. I know. I understand. Yes, I’ll tell him. Oh thank you, baby thank you! Yes, I love you too. Goodnight!” He pressed the off button.

I had moved back over by the couch and picked my rocks glass back up. I also picked up Roger’s and headed to the kitchen. I poured the remains of both drinks down the sink as Roger spoke a mile a minute. 

“She says you said you might be interested, and that Carol was a doll and that I was to give you a kiss,” he babbled and suddenly froze when he realized what he just said. “I mean, that she owes you a kiss, and I was to do whatever you say. So is this for real? I mean are we really… Are you going to… What are you grinning at, you shithead?” 

“At you, and yes, we’re really and I’m going to and if you haven’t noticed you’re grinning too, you asshole!” I laughed in response. “Let’s go sit down and talk some more and see what we can figure out, okay?” I poured us each just a single shot in our glasses and headed back to the living room.

I went back to my place on the loveseat, and he sat back down on the couch. I understood Denise’s concerns. The Roger I knew was a fighter jock, and just as cocky as any I’d even known. Sure I ribbed him about Glee Club and singing in the shower earlier, but this was a two time Bronze Star recipient, and a man for whom I had immense professional and personal respect. But here he was on a couch, nearly nude, with his hands between his knees, looking like he would wet himself any second.

“Roger, relax,” I said in my most soothing tone. “I know this is a lot to take in, and I understand everything that must be running through your head. I’ve been there, remember? We’ve both gone in harm’s way knowing that our country didn’t approve of our feelings and would drum us out if they found out. Thank God that’s changed! I’ve got a wife, and we’ve had our struggles with finding a balance between my bisexuality and our marriage, and we’ve come through those struggles stronger than before. I’ve got a good business practice that I don’t want to lose, and I’ve found a way to meet that need and still be true to myself. If I can do it, you can too. The important thing is to remember that you’ve got to take care of yourself along the way.”

Roger took a deep breath, and surprised me for about the twentieth time tonight.

“You know, I was thinking about jerking your cock out and stuffing it down my throat when the phone rang,” he said with a smile. It wasn’t that self-assured, devil-may-care smile of a fighter pilot, but it was a hell of a lot better than I had feared.

“Were you now,” I chuckled, downing my bourbon and smacking my lips. “And you let your wife stop you? You need to show her who’s the boss!”

“She knows who’s the boss,” he said with a wry grin. “She is. Do you really think we can do this? Can we really be colleagues and roommates and friends and, and lovers all at once?”

“Well, we’re already colleagues and roommates, and unless you stop paying your part of the lease I don’t see why both of those can’t continue,” I replied, and then stood up. “As for friends, my friend I can absolutely assure you that you have my friendship, based upon the mutual respect and trust we’ve built together over the past decade, until my dying breath.” 

I stuck out my hand for a handshake. He stood, took my hand, shook it, and we drew each other in to that manly half hug that ends with pats on the back. But we both noticed the feeling of our bare chests touching. His lightly haired and mine completely smooth. When we released the hug and handshake, we most definitely did not retreat to neutral corners, but stayed in close proximity.

“As for the ‘lovers’ part how about we keep it at ‘no strings attached fuck buddies’ for now, and keep our wives as our only lovers?” I offered, stepping in closer still so that our hips and groins were nearly touching.

He drew in a breath. Our eyes met and we searched each other’s soul. Yes, I wanted this man I admitted to myself. I’d wanted to have this moment for years, but could never be certain enough to risk our working relationship and, more importantly, our friendship for a moment of physical release. Now if we managed this correctly and were mindful of the two other people our actions effected, the final pieces of our lives could fall into place. I leaned in to place a light kiss on his lips.

A literal electric spark jolted us both as our lips came together. Roger’s socks had picked up a static charge from the carpet that found ground through me, enhanced by the remaining dampness in my crotch. The micro fiber was mostly dry, but not quite. Our hands shot up to our respective lips and we fell back apart, laughing, onto the furniture.

“Oh man, Carol is going to love this one,” I laughed. “She’s been wanting me to make a pass at you for years, and when I finally do God reaches out to smite me!”

“Really? She’s been after this for years?” Roger asked. “Denise has been telling me, particularly since we moved into this place, that she thought you’d make a good fit for what we need.”

“Well, we’re brilliant strategists and analysts in the realm of government policy, but we’ve both been thinking with our little brains and needed our wives to show us the big picture,” I said. Then I got up and joined Roger on the couch, moving back into close contact.

“I guess we should try and take their advice again, God or no God, don’t you?” I asked, putting a hand on Roger’s knee.

“So what does that material of your thong really feel like? Is it comfortable?” he asked, shifting closer and placing his own hand on my lower thigh.

“Feel for yourself,” I invited, giving him my patented smoky/sultry glance, guaranteed to knock damsels and knights equally onto their backs.

This time Roger leaned toward me as his hand advanced up my thigh. We hesitated as our lips got close, gun shy about another spark, but of course we were already touching. His hand found my groin and ran roughly over my cock. He leaned closer and our lips met successfully, and then we were making out like I did with my girlfriend in the backseat of my dad’s 1968 Dodge.

Roger was the aggressor. I wondered briefly if he needed to prove his manhood or was just so starved for gay sex that he couldn’t hold back, but then decided that, for now, his motives didn’t matter. I was versatile, and prided myself on striving to ensure that my partners, whether male or female, came away from an encounter both satiated and impressed. I lay back on the couch and opened my legs.

He moved to a dominant position and resumed our kiss, his breath ragged and tongue probing. His hand was moving rapidly over my sheathed cock, the material acting as a lubricant and transferring wonderful feelings to my still-stiffening rod. I ludicrously hoped for a moment that my hardness wouldn’t stretch the thong out of shape, and then returned my attention where it belonged.

I now touched Roger’s cock for the first time. I did not hesitate, but reached beyond the waistband of the mesh thong and drew his organ out. I noticed some shaving stubble on his balls, and a small tuft of hair above his shaft, but was pleased that he trimmed and shaved. I had paid for laser hair removal treatments for both myself and Carol and few years ago.

Roger’s cock jumped at my touch, and he gasped as his eyes flew open. I had expected this, and my eyes were already boring back into his as he focused. I grasped his shaft like a joystick, and ran my thumb across the crown like a pilot clicking in trim tab adjustment. Roger’s eyes rolled backwards and he moaned as he resumed snogging me.

We kissed and groped each other for a few more moments, and then Roger abruptly sat up, staring down at my cock. The crown was poking out the side of the pouch of the thong, and was leaking precum like crazy. I contracted my urethral muscles twice and made it jump. I was wise in the ways of seducing a man.

“Can I take it out?” Roger asked almost shyly.

“Buddy, you can and should do absolutely anything you want to do, without hesitation or fear,” I smiled up at him. “Take me, I’m yours!”

With that I switched around and lay back fully on the couch, raising my hips to allow Roger to pull my thong down and off. He stared at my now naked, rampant cock for a moment, and then looked back up to me, still seeking permission. I smiled and nodded at him.

Roger lowered his mouth down to the tip of my cock. He extended his tongue, and tentatively licked the head. I pulsed my cock again. It jumped and smacked him on the lips. He reached out and grabbed the base to control my movements, and proceeded to lick the bottom of my shaft like a Popsicle. I moaned my pleasure and encouragement.

I was thinking constantly about Roger’s feelings. I wanted this first experience to be perfect for him, in the hopes of making it a regular thing. But then I realized I could be in danger of over thinking. Roger was obviously not a complete novice, just out of practice and nervous about the whole situation. I should just relax and let him move at his own pace. I didn’t have to worry about any more phone calls breaking the mood. I raised my hands to my own nipples and let out a deep sigh as I tweaked them lightly and surrendered my cock to my friend.

He was clearly relaxing and relishing the experience. We all know what it is like when you have sex with another person after a long drought. He was licking and savoring my cock. He would start at the base on the bottom of my shaft and lick all the way to my pee hole, and then start again on the right side of the shaft, working his way around in what was from his perspective a clockwise fashion. 

After several orbits he decided my balls needed some attention. He was cradling them in one hand, and he laved them lavishly, pulling up to tickle with the tip of his tongue occasionally, sucking one fully into his mouth and then the other. He pulled off and admired his handiwork, then looked up at me.

“How do you get them so smooth?” he asked. “I’ve never enjoyed sucking on a nutsack so much. The absence of hair is so much better!”

I smiled and said, “Yeah, it really is, isn’t it?” I explained about the laser treatments. “If you think licking my balls is fun with perfectly smooth skin, you should try a pussy sometime. I could lick Carol for hours, though she always pushes me away after just a couple of minutes. Who knows, maybe we can get her to let you have a taste sometime.”

He paused a moment, clearly contemplating the possibilities, but then returned to the blowjob with no further comment.

“By the way,” I said. “In case you can’t tell, I’m really enjoying this! And I can’t wait to get a hold on your cock too.”

He stopped again and said, “well let’s take this into the bedroom. Your place or mine, sailor?” With that he stood and offered me his hand.

I accepted the leverage and stood up. He used my momentum to pull our bodies roughly together, and plunged his tongue down my throat once again. I moaned and returned the kiss with a heat I hadn’t felt in years with another man. We groped and kissed passionately. I was happy that Roger was comfortable with this kind of making out, as so many closeted gay guys seem that have real hang-ups about kissing a man.

I ran my hands up his torso and played with his nipples. This was met with a quick intake of breath, so I continued to focus on the hardening little nubbins. I lightly flicked them with my fingers, and rolled them between my thumbs and index fingers. This elicited a moan.

After several more moments we broke our embrace and by unspoken consent headed into my bedroom. I had the larger bed. We turned the lights out as we went, and left the lights off but the window shades up in the bedroom. The slight tinting on the windows ensure no one could get a clear picture of what we were doing without a night scope, which of course was not an impossibility in a neighborhood just a few blocks away from the Pentagon, but we weren’t too worried. In return, the city lights provided us with all the light we needed.

“No one has ever done so much to my nipples before,” Roger said. “I liked that.”

“My nipples are like little on/off buttons for sex, so I always like to see how other people react,” I replied, pushing him sideways down onto the bed. “I’ll do it some more, but first I’ve got to see that cock.”

I practically ripped the black thong from his hips. Hey, they were my knickers; I could rip ‘em if I wanted. His cock sprang free and bounced around a bit as he moved to make more room on the bed. I turned and climbed onto the bed, laying on my side and urging him with motions to do the same. This brought us into a side-by-side sixty-nine position, and I proceeded to examine my new prize.

It was a pretty typical cock. About six inches long or maybe a bit more. A slight dogleg left on the upper third of the shaft. He was circumcised like me, and the helmet of the crown of his cock was well defined. His shaft was stiff as a board. Yes, a typical cock, but one that I’d had in the back of my mind for years. It felt so hard in my hand that I imagined it hurt, and I resolved to immediately ease its suffering. I swallowed it to the base in one swoop.

“Oh God, how do you do that?” Roger cried, his eyes rolling back in his head again. He had a death grip on my cock.

“Mmmph, I’ll tell you later,” I slobbered, pulling my head back and then plunging again to the root.

He took the hint and resumed our sixty-nine. I kept deep-throating him every six or seven strokes, and he was tickling my balls as he bobbed furiously back and forth on me. We were both excited. We were starving for each other’s seed. It didn’t take long for either of us to cum.

My balls were boiling. There was nothing unique, new, or kinky about this sex. Just two people riding the same wave of lust. Two men riding the same wave, which is very different from a man and a woman in heat. I have no personal experience with what it’s like for two women, but I’ve seen it at house parties and it looks to be about the same. 

Suddenly calm washed over me. This often happens to me as I build toward orgasm. I equate it to the way the sea goes quiet and the tide rushes out just before a Tsunami rolls over the horizon. This is exactly how it felt as the calmness transformed into sudden spasms and an explosion of ejaculate into Roger’s mouth.

He was too surprised to do anything but swallow, and besides my cum triggered his. I felt his cock swell. He went rigid. And then all hell broke loose.

We were both of us thrashing and thrusting, our arms instinctively wrapped around thighs to hold on for dear life. We were tandem bullriders at the rodeo, and the room was filled with moans of delight and the musk of male pheromones. How we kept our teeth off of each other’s cock I’ll never know, but then again maybe we didn’t and just couldn’t notice in the ocean of physical joy that was washing over us. All I know for sure is that there were no teeth marks or scars afterward.

I clamped down on Roger’s cock and sucked on it like a straw. The warm, slightly sticky and slightly salty fluid washed over my tongue in spurt after spurt. My cock was delivering the same delightful payload into my lover’s throat. Time slowed, and our mutual orgasm went on and on, both of us producing the largest loads of cum we could ever remember.

Of course time didn’t slow, and our orgasms only lasted a few precious seconds. I kept a vacuum job going on Roger’s cock to suck out every drop of male elixir, and he ran his tongue around my peehole, making me jump and squirm from the intensity of physical pleasure. Our breathing and heart rates headed back toward the normal range, but neither of us would let the cock in our mouth out. We wanted to savor this moment.

I knew this was particularly important for Roger. Two months is a long time for me to go between male sex partners, but his dry spell was two years in length. I continued to follow his lead, and kept up a light suction of the softened shaft in my mouth, using my tongue on the underside but not the sensitive head. He didn’t fully deflate, but stayed partially tumescent, as did I. 

Our reward for such an intense and emotional encounter was the next wave. Instead of a wave of lust this was a wave of tired contentment. It was well past midnight, and our fifty-something bodies needed their beauty rest. We reluctantly released each other’s manhood from our mouths, and I spun my body up to rest my head on a pillow. He scooted up to do the same, and we kissed again, tasting our cum and sweat on each other’s tongue. No words were spoken.

I woke with my arm draped over Roger, our bodies not quite spooning. A combination of the morning sun and an urgent need awoke me. A glance at the clock showed “0635” on the LED screen. As an old military man I used the 24-hour timekeeping convention. I rolled out of bed and went around to lower the shades, then paddled into the bathroom. The morning sun would allow the prying eyes of our neighbors to see in.

After my ablutions I went into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. I heard the television in my bedroom come on and tune to “Morning Joe,” the preferred way for political progressives like us to start the day. I paddled back into the bedroom.

“Good morning,” I said with a big smile.

“Good morning,” Roger replied with a smile of his own.

“Any remorse? Any regrets? How’d you sleep?” I peppered him with questions.

He pondered for a moment and answered thoughtfully. “No remorse; no regrets, and I slept wonderfully, thanks. And you?”

“I could only be happier if Carol were here with us,” I replied with absolute truth. “Last night was quite a roller coaster, but that last hill and corkscrew turn were worth all the twists and turns to get there.”

“Busy day?” he asked, turning the volume down on the talking heads giving us the same analysis of presidential candidates they provided two weeks ago.

“Not particularly,” I replied. “My afternoon has the typical conference calls, but I don’t have to lead any of them so I can multi-task and catch my email then. You?”

“I’m seriously considering calling my nine o’clock and asking to re-book,” he said. “I’d do it in a heartbeat if…”

“If?” I asked, knowing exactly where this conversation was headed.

“If I knew whether you were up for another bout, maybe with some anal this time?” he said, blushing.

“I think that sounds like a perfect strategic decision,” I said in my most serious consultants voice. It was a great morning in our apartment.