"I've got two girls, a son, and six grandchildren between the three of them," Ray told me.
"If you understand that they always come first, then I'll always take care of that cock, second."
Four months would pass between when we first talked, to the time Ray finally invited me to dinner. The bigger issue was that I lived in Williamsburg, Virginia, and he called Nashville, Tennessee home as he was a retired sound engineer for a country radio station.
"I think I'm ready to meet you," he told me one day after we'd discussed making arrangements to meet.
We kept in contact consistently despite being 664 miles apart, as usually I didn't entertain talking to someone that lived more than 100 miles from me. Initially I didn't think we would connect, but Ray was special, from his brown hair and salt and pepper beard, to the way he chose to talk to me.
"I can admit I like younger guys because of the energy they exhibit," he said to me.
I was that, but also an old soul to connect with as he was a man in demand, a man with a heart that needed to be protected despite his profile basically stating he was a whore. I loved how we kicked off originally by eyeing each other's profile, as he learned that I had a thing for older, chubby bears. I would however sense our first conversation wouldn't be just about fucking, or if he could suck a nine inch dick, but better attributes such as his favorite colors, hobbies, and foods, the things that made him tick.
"Jamaica and Italy will forever be my favorite two destinations," he mentioned when we spoke on travel.
The personal, out of the bedroom dialogue caused us to align better than knowing how much he liked to suck or ride a fat cock. We still wouldn't ignore the latter, but it wasn't our primary topic for we both histories, obvious from him being a biological father of three adults.
"When you wanna come have dinner with me," he asked again.
"Why must I have dinner with you? You need to come to me," I said to him jokingly as I was floored by his request.
"I can tell you right now, if you come have dinner here, and meet my family, then it'll be the best flight you ever took," he said. "Come have dinner with me?"
His persistent, warm, masculine tone won me over when he repeated himself once more, as this big, proud Scot in origin wanting badly for my company. I recalled him stating he hadn't been with anyone in over a year, and that he was remaining patient, for he'd given up ass in the past to the wrong guys. Of course we shared media of each other, and slick innuendo between time that would make a lot lizard blush, but the connection was much stronger to where I would ask the question of how long he wanted me to stay for this dinner visit.
"Seems ridiculous of you to just fly to Nashville for fried chicken," he told me.
He suggested a week as we truly needed to get acquainted, and despite the blessing of his children, he would at least get "nailed to the cross" at some point for it was going on two years since he even touched a dick.
"Bring your fine ass to Nashville after you give me your flight itinerary," he said to me. "I'll take care of the rest."
Three weeks later I was off work for a total of nine days, taking a flight that first evening on a Thursday with the intention of this hunk, daddy bear, meeting me once I landed. I touched down at 8:43 p.m. local time, and 45 minutes later I was greeted by a tall, Paul Bunyan looking guy with a thick, gray beard and sunshades, looking a notch sexier while standing beside a shiny, purple Ford F350. His face lit up as I walked out of the terminal, and he would come up to me to hug, then graciously grab my bag from my hand before opening the passenger door.
"Southern Gentlemen do exist, even if they're bottoms," he told me with a deep chuckle.
Minutes later we pulled off, and he grabbed my hand as he maneuvered away from the airport, just charming me as he drove.
"I've never been here," I told him.
"Well good. All the more reason for you to spend a little extra time with me," he said as he squeezed my hand.
Ray was the ultimate man's man despite showing his soft side, as he was warm, compassionate, articulate, and just a sweet, masculine guy overall that seemed giddy of my presence. He confirmed it once he turned off onto a dark street and parked the truck, and would raise the middle console for us to meet halfway in the cab to exchange tongue like long, lost lovers.
"Long, fucking time coming," I told him.
"I agree. Was I worth the wait," he asked.
I shook my head and giggled before we exchanged more nasty smooching, the slurp, lip smacking, and moaning reflective of what we wanted from each other. 20 minutes later we were pulling into his huge driveway under a full moon, and he'd lead me into his home, giving me a tour of the large domicile filled with the scent of candles, photos of his family, as well as photographed career milestones throughout. He'd of course pour me a drink and urge me to get comfortable, so I kicked my shoes off at the door, then sat on the couch before he greeted me with a Long Island Iced Tea.
"You hungry," he asked.
I declined, for I was just happy to be in the presence of this sweet bear as he truly epitomized southern hospitality.
