For about 10 years from age 20 to 30 I would have these hot, clandestine sexual romps with a guy I met one night cruising Buena Vista Park. When I met him he was in his early 40's, hot moustache, big dick, tall muscular guy. He became a regular member of my doorbell trade, those guys who'd just show up and knock on my door to see if I was available and interested in and intense sexual encounter. To my great pleasure he would occasionally show up when I was entertaining another member of my doorbell trade and he was always a welcome addition to the action.
We only knew each on on a first name basis. Then one afternoon he showed up (after we'd been fucking each other for a good 10 years) and ended up spending the night with me rather than just fuck, shower, and run. We discovered we were from the same small town in Ewetaw. Then it got even more incestuous, his father was my grandfather's brother-in-law. Their back yard joined the back yard of my grand parent's back yard. My doorbell trade's dad had been my junior high school PE coach (MAJOR big uncut dick on a late 60-ish guy with an enviable head of pure white-hair and still muscular body with whom I mutually felt up jacked off with more than a couple of times in 7th and 8th grade). Then my fuck buddy asked me if I had ever hurt my forehead and had to wear a bandage for a couple of months like a bandana. Yup. I had. I'd accidentally been hit with a nail in a piece of wood. I was 5 years-old when that happened and the wound had bruised the bone of my forehead. Still have the scar. Turns out that was the clincher. He remembered me raising hell, racing around on my trycyle in my grandparents back yard. Between then and our first fuck he'd graduated from BYU, married, had a daughter, divorced and moved to San Francisco.
Turned out that this favorite piece of doorbell trade was not only related as some sort of great uncle, but I'd jacked off with his father on several (maybe 5 or 6) occasions when I didn't want to attend gym in junior high school. Because I wasn't outside attempting to play football or inside not playing basketball (both of which I loathe to this day) I would have to wash, dry, fold, and stack gym towels instead. That meant getting to hang with "Frosty" the old football/basketball coach who should have been retired, but was still hanging on at the junior high school as assistant faculty. The old building was a labyrinth of misleading hallways and rooms which had originally been the old high school until the late 50's. Frosty was rather easy on the eyes for someone who was eligible for social security and we never did anything more than rub our cocks together and take turns jacking each other off. It would have been practically impossible to find us in that jumbled maize of buildings and off-set rooms playing with one another's dicks, so we had lots of privacy.
The sad thing about all of this was that after admitting to my favorite doorbell trade what I used to do with his dad, he sort of lost interest in having anything to do with me except be friends. Hell, I'd still want to fuck him if he's around. But the idea that I'd been with his dad sort of ruined things. You'd think that someone as hypersexual as my favorite doorbell trade was that he could have overlooked those few indiscretions, but no. And it's really too bad, because he was one of the few guys who I really could enjoy getting fucked by (LOTS of foreskin).
If he's still alive he's in his mid to late 70's. Nonetheless, I'd be happy to fuck him and even have him fuck me. He was one hot daddy-type. One could do worse than enjoy a hot session with a dirty old man who knows what he's doing. Hmm. . . maybe he's a member of LPSG? Yeah, if wishes were fishes.
