Kevin is a pole dancer, not a ballet dancer
New Year’s Eve came and went, but my loneliness stayed. As well as me being fucking horny all the time, especially now since I have a few days off of work.
But I wasn't in mood for a plain old fucking. I could ring Matt up, considering we had fun the couple of times after we finished behind the bus stop a couple months ago, but I wasn't feeling it.
I needed someone new, someone fresh. Matt was too dominant and rough, I did want to fuck, but I wanted a hungry little whore.
I opened my favorite app and the hunt began. After wasting time with some guys who were obviously just fishing for photos for their spank bank, I started chatting with a guy who seemed alright.
A couple of years younger than me, mid-twenties, lean, shorter than me, vers bottom. He said he wasn't in the mood for anal, just a couple of drinks, a jerk off or perhaps oral and for me to be on my merry way home. I was fine with that. Tomorrow I’ll relish in the fact I read him correctly, „vers bottom“ only meant that once he's all horny, anything goes, topping or bottoming. Especially being a good little slut. In every positive sense of that word.
We exchanged some photos, although he didn't ask me for a dick pic. When I asked him if he wants me to send it anyway, he said no need. Playing as if he's uninterested, but I know the photos where the outline of my cock is visible in my sweatpants were the ones he lingered on the most. It gets those who prefer to bottom drooling, their holes twitching for my cock to slither in. I mostly oblige to their excitement, since who doesn't like an ego boost?
But tonight I said fuck it, let's try something new. Or new-ish. We settled that I should come to his place, and an hour or so after I was on my way.
Fancy building, second floor. I guessed he'll have a balcony. Probably had his brains fucked out on it a couple of times. I fantasized for a moment before ringing the doorbell, and soon he opened the door.
Short dark hair he obviously recently cut, clean shaven, piercing dark eyes. He’s wearing a simple t-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms, grey slippers on. As the door opened, the warmth and a wonderful scent filled my nostrils. Cozy and warm. As his pink hole will be, when he sits on my throbbing cock.
I cleared my throat to focus and extended my hand. “I’m David.*” he shook it with vigor, “Kevin, come on in.” youthful voice, not coarse like mine, due to me smoking for a larger part of my life. Cigarettes and one-night stands, two of my biggest vices. Only managed to shake one off.
I entered his house and took my sneakers off, seeing that he had some cheap slippers in a box labelled “Guests”. Perhaps he entertains often. We made our way to the kitchen, and he immediately went for the fridge. “You’re taller than in your photos. A nice surprise.” he smiles, obviously in a good mood. “And you’ve had a haircut recently. Looks good, though I like to pull a guy’s hair while fucking.” I grin, wasting no time on this game of cat and mouse.
He laughs, “Oh, direct, aren’t we? What you in the mood for?” the question lingers in the air, the sexual tension already growing before he points to the fridge. We both agree on wine. Soon two wine glasses are half filled with red wine, and after a bit of back and forth, we move to the living room.
I sit in the armchair while he sits on the sofa next to it. I sink into it and open my legs, readjusting my balls as I do, purposefully, to attract his glance. And he does, eyeing as my cock shifts from one side to the other in my pants.
He takes a sip of the wine and crosses his legs, leaning back. “Went to a big party for New Years’?” he asks.
“Went to a friends’ place, got smashed, then we went out dancing. It was alright. You?”
“Worked, we had a show for some stuck up millionaires or whatever.” he rolls his eyes, setting his glass on the coffee table.
“Ah, yes, you said you were a dancer. Classical?” I ask, taking a sip and doing the same.
“Yeah. Mostly ballet.” he says, gesturing at the bookcase opposite of us, filled with books about art and dance.
“Then you must be very flexible.” I tease.
He laughs, “Yeah, more than most. Guys love it.” He clears his throat and adds, “But not in the mood for that. Just wanted a chat and to jerk off, I guess.”
I nod, “That works. I wanted to try something new anyway.”
His raises his eyebrows. “Oh? Tell me more.” Her reaches for his glass.
I reach as well and take a sip, “I’m usually dominant, giving or receiving. Tonight, I’m in a mood to just watch and instruct if you’re in the mood for that.
“What do you mean?” he says, gently moving the wine glass so the red wine starts swirling in it.
“Think of it as guided meditation. You close your eyes, and I instruct you what to do, and you must listen to me.” I say, grinning.
He’s silent for a moment. “Sounds hot.”
I smile, “Knew you’d be up for it.” I take a sip. “If you don’t like or feel comfortable with doing something, just say. For example, I plan to call you boy, slut, whore.” I say as I gesture with my arms. I catch his eye glancing at my biceps as I flex while I talk. He obviously agreed to meet since I’m his type, yet in the gay world I won the lottery. I’m hairy but not too much, I’m muscular but not too much, I’m fem but not too much, I’m tall but not too much, I’m your pornstar-adjacent guy next door, a hot Saturday night’s fuck.
“That’s fine. If something bothers me or doesn’t work for me, I’ll let you know.”
I nod and finish my wine.
“Alright, let’s get comfortable.” I say and take my shirt off, stand up suddenly as I unbutton and take my pants off, throwing them both on the sofa next to him. I stand for a while, letting him absorb the sights. I know I look good.
He looks at my abs that are barely showing, my hairy chest I trimmed a month ago, juicy red nipples. My belly is slightly hairy, and a thin stretch of hair is reaching towards my uncut cock. Flaccid I’m average sized, but once hard I’m a little bit short of 7 inches.
He eyes it greedily. “Nice cock.” He smiles, finishing his wine.
“Thanks. Now take your clothes off, boy.”
New Year’s Eve came and went, but my loneliness stayed. As well as me being fucking horny all the time, especially now since I have a few days off of work.
But I wasn't in mood for a plain old fucking. I could ring Matt up, considering we had fun the couple of times after we finished behind the bus stop a couple months ago, but I wasn't feeling it.
I needed someone new, someone fresh. Matt was too dominant and rough, I did want to fuck, but I wanted a hungry little whore.
I opened my favorite app and the hunt began. After wasting time with some guys who were obviously just fishing for photos for their spank bank, I started chatting with a guy who seemed alright.
A couple of years younger than me, mid-twenties, lean, shorter than me, vers bottom. He said he wasn't in the mood for anal, just a couple of drinks, a jerk off or perhaps oral and for me to be on my merry way home. I was fine with that. Tomorrow I’ll relish in the fact I read him correctly, „vers bottom“ only meant that once he's all horny, anything goes, topping or bottoming. Especially being a good little slut. In every positive sense of that word.
We exchanged some photos, although he didn't ask me for a dick pic. When I asked him if he wants me to send it anyway, he said no need. Playing as if he's uninterested, but I know the photos where the outline of my cock is visible in my sweatpants were the ones he lingered on the most. It gets those who prefer to bottom drooling, their holes twitching for my cock to slither in. I mostly oblige to their excitement, since who doesn't like an ego boost?
But tonight I said fuck it, let's try something new. Or new-ish. We settled that I should come to his place, and an hour or so after I was on my way.
Fancy building, second floor. I guessed he'll have a balcony. Probably had his brains fucked out on it a couple of times. I fantasized for a moment before ringing the doorbell, and soon he opened the door.
Short dark hair he obviously recently cut, clean shaven, piercing dark eyes. He’s wearing a simple t-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms, grey slippers on. As the door opened, the warmth and a wonderful scent filled my nostrils. Cozy and warm. As his pink hole will be, when he sits on my throbbing cock.
I cleared my throat to focus and extended my hand. “I’m David.*” he shook it with vigor, “Kevin, come on in.” youthful voice, not coarse like mine, due to me smoking for a larger part of my life. Cigarettes and one-night stands, two of my biggest vices. Only managed to shake one off.
I entered his house and took my sneakers off, seeing that he had some cheap slippers in a box labelled “Guests”. Perhaps he entertains often. We made our way to the kitchen, and he immediately went for the fridge. “You’re taller than in your photos. A nice surprise.” he smiles, obviously in a good mood. “And you’ve had a haircut recently. Looks good, though I like to pull a guy’s hair while fucking.” I grin, wasting no time on this game of cat and mouse.
He laughs, “Oh, direct, aren’t we? What you in the mood for?” the question lingers in the air, the sexual tension already growing before he points to the fridge. We both agree on wine. Soon two wine glasses are half filled with red wine, and after a bit of back and forth, we move to the living room.
I sit in the armchair while he sits on the sofa next to it. I sink into it and open my legs, readjusting my balls as I do, purposefully, to attract his glance. And he does, eyeing as my cock shifts from one side to the other in my pants.
He takes a sip of the wine and crosses his legs, leaning back. “Went to a big party for New Years’?” he asks.
“Went to a friends’ place, got smashed, then we went out dancing. It was alright. You?”
“Worked, we had a show for some stuck up millionaires or whatever.” he rolls his eyes, setting his glass on the coffee table.
“Ah, yes, you said you were a dancer. Classical?” I ask, taking a sip and doing the same.
“Yeah. Mostly ballet.” he says, gesturing at the bookcase opposite of us, filled with books about art and dance.
“Then you must be very flexible.” I tease.
He laughs, “Yeah, more than most. Guys love it.” He clears his throat and adds, “But not in the mood for that. Just wanted a chat and to jerk off, I guess.”
I nod, “That works. I wanted to try something new anyway.”
His raises his eyebrows. “Oh? Tell me more.” Her reaches for his glass.
I reach as well and take a sip, “I’m usually dominant, giving or receiving. Tonight, I’m in a mood to just watch and instruct if you’re in the mood for that.
“What do you mean?” he says, gently moving the wine glass so the red wine starts swirling in it.
“Think of it as guided meditation. You close your eyes, and I instruct you what to do, and you must listen to me.” I say, grinning.
He’s silent for a moment. “Sounds hot.”
I smile, “Knew you’d be up for it.” I take a sip. “If you don’t like or feel comfortable with doing something, just say. For example, I plan to call you boy, slut, whore.” I say as I gesture with my arms. I catch his eye glancing at my biceps as I flex while I talk. He obviously agreed to meet since I’m his type, yet in the gay world I won the lottery. I’m hairy but not too much, I’m muscular but not too much, I’m fem but not too much, I’m tall but not too much, I’m your pornstar-adjacent guy next door, a hot Saturday night’s fuck.
“That’s fine. If something bothers me or doesn’t work for me, I’ll let you know.”
I nod and finish my wine.
“Alright, let’s get comfortable.” I say and take my shirt off, stand up suddenly as I unbutton and take my pants off, throwing them both on the sofa next to him. I stand for a while, letting him absorb the sights. I know I look good.
He looks at my abs that are barely showing, my hairy chest I trimmed a month ago, juicy red nipples. My belly is slightly hairy, and a thin stretch of hair is reaching towards my uncut cock. Flaccid I’m average sized, but once hard I’m a little bit short of 7 inches.
He eyes it greedily. “Nice cock.” He smiles, finishing his wine.
“Thanks. Now take your clothes off, boy.”
