A year or so after I had first decided to explore my bisexual leanings, I moved out of Los Angeles and headed for the Midwest.
I would miss Smoke, my first real lover.
Other things took precedence, though, and what we had shared was- we both knew- largely physical. He loved someone else but had needed more physical contact. I was not ready for a full relationship with another man, but had undeniable needs and wants.
Things had worked out well for us both, so we parted amicably. We even kept in touch for a few months after I had first moved before we drifted away- he'd found someone else to relieve his needs and I had started dating again.
Those first few months had been hectic: I had to settle into a new apartment, attend classes and find time for a social life once more. When Smoke's emails became more sporadic I was almost glad to have those extra minutes to deal with things.
By the fall, though, I had settled once again into a comfortable routine. I was seeing someone pretty steadily, had classes well in hand as exams wound down and found myself with free time in the afternoons to fill with video games and the occasional attempt at writing.
It was not much longer before I started feeling that familiar urge again. It had been seven or eight months since I'd been with Smoke, and while I was happy with my relationship I could not deny I was ready to be with a man once more.
I spent the next month trying to find a service like the one that had allowed me to meet Smoke. Several frustrating weeks led me to decide that either sex bulletin boards were much rarer in the Midwest or they were much more circumspect than those in California.
As a last resort, I decided to take a half-hearted look in the chat room listings of my commercial ISP. Much to my surprise, I found a listing for "M4M" rooms in my new city after a couple of minutes browsing through the member made chats.
The interface was cleaner, there was a little more chatter than I was used to, but it was on the whole a very familiar feeling when I logged in after twenty minutes of waiting "in line" to enter the room.
After quickly peeking at a couple of people's profiles, I quickly tapped out one of my own; as I had before, I decided that honesty was the best route for a hookup:
26 year old, slightly chubby with fair skin, black hair and brown eyes. I am looking for preferably older top. Likes to give oral and be a bottom; no strings, casual sex and discretion a must.
I included my zip code, general area and a quick mention of when I was usually free.
Then I found a relatively recent picture, attached that in the proper place and settled in to browse profiles and listen to the casual chattering.
For the next few weeks I mostly lurked.
I joined into very few discussions and started chatting to a couple of guys on a regular basis but neither was quite what I was looking for: one was a definite bottom and the other was only interested in getting regular blowjobs.
I did get the occasional instant message window pop up from someone testing the waters. I directed them to my profile and photo, answered their questions honestly. I did not hear back from many of them, made indefinite "we'll see" plans with others whose schedules clashed with my free time and turned a couple of them down outright- they were interested in scat or heavier domination and bondage than I was willing to try.
Most of the time I sat there quietly browsing profiles and reading personal web pages, looking at pictures and getting hornier by the day. I was still seeing my girlfriend regularly, so that helped; nevertheless I was starting to crave the feel of a man against and inside me once more.
In late December, during a particularly cold afternoon, I was lurking in the room.
There had been a heavy snowfall; I could not have left the apartment complex if I'd wanted to. It was out of the question for anyone to drive anywhere until the snow ploughs had cleared the roads, so I was not expecting anything when I logged in. I was considering agreeing to meet the guy who just wanted to use my mouth when a message window popped up on my screen-
"where r u?"
I took a quick look at the profile. It was uninformative at best- his handle, Mike, and a six digit number. I did not usually bother answering that kind of quick-shot message, and I was about to close the window when he sent another line.
"i'm in xxxxxxx apts, want to meet now, top, where r u?"
I had to pause. We lived in the same complex, which meant we could actually meet that very afternoon. I did hesitate- I knew nothing about him except that we were neighbors (which had both advantages and disadvantages as far as discretion went) and was apparently impatient- he repeated his question twice while I tried to decide what to do.
I finally answered that I was in the same apartment complex and sent him my stats- weight, height and the rest of it as well as a link to my picture. I added that I wanted to try being a bottom and had just sent "enter" when he replied, asking for my unit number.
I hesitated again.
I knew I should meet the guy somewhere first, chat a bit more and see if I even liked him before going any farther; at the very least I would then know what he looked like and what he was looking for. Inviting a complete stranger over was dangerous and stupid.
Which was in part why I did it- the thrill of danger sent a flush of excitement through me.
I could feel myself blushing as I typed in my unit number, my balls tightening and cock slowly hardening under my loose shorts as fear combined with desire. I closed the message window and stood as he let me know he'd be over in five minutes.
I was still debating taking a shower when he knocked on my door.
I could feel my heart thundering in my chest as I went to let him in. The blinds on the window dominating the wall next to the door were closed, but I could make out his shadow where he stood waiting.
When I opened the whitewashed door, an eddy of bitterly cold air hit me. Dressed as I was in a loose t-shirt and shorts, it set my teeth to chattering even in the brief moment it took for me to step aside instinctively to let him in out of the cold.
He grunted a greeting, I think, as he stepped inside. He was a few inches taller than me, bundled up in a heavy jacket for the walk across the complex. Flakes of snow melted on the dark fabric as he took a disinterested look around the living room, taking in the computer desk and couch before finding the bedroom door.
I closed and locked the door as I took a look at him.
He was bigger than me. Taller, broader and heavier, as I saw when he took off his jacket and dropped it on the couch. He turned toward me and canted his head toward the bedroom.
He had very dark, heavy lidded eyes and chocolate skin with close cropped black hair. He looked to be eight or ten years older than me, in his mid-thirties.
I nodded and followed him into the bedroom, still trembling from a combination of the cold and excitement.
The low bed dominated the room. The blinds were slanted up, letting in the afternoon light but keeping out curious gazes. He walked in, glancing around, and stopped at the side of the bed, looking back at me with an expectant look.
His stern silence did not lend itself to idle chatter. I looked to him for a clue as to what to do next and he folded his arms over his chest. He had made it clear in the tone and speed of his responses that he was there for one reason; it was a relief, in a way, to know he was not expecting more.
At a loss for what to do next, I stepped closer and knelt before him.
He shifted his weight slightly to make it easier for me to unfasten his belt and the top button of his jeans.
The denim was still cool from the walk and I could smell a hint of sap where he'd brushed against a small tree or bush. I unzipped him and pulled down his jeans slowly down his thick legs until they were pooled over his black tennis shoes.
A dense nest of pubic hair escaped his black briefs at the thighs and rose toward his navel under his t-shirt. I licked my dry lips, smelling him clearly- a faint hint of bitter sweat and salty musk, sharp against the milder scents of clean linens and winter. I could see him bulging against the black cotton, heavy and solid where he pressed against the thin material.
I lay my hands flat against his hips, his skin only now starting to warm up. Hooking my thumbs into the sides of his briefs, I pulled them down hesitantly while he grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled it off over his head.
The bristling mat of black hair trailed up past the bulge of his broad belly and around his navel, rising to an only slightly sparser covering on his chest. He was not soft, though; even the swell of his stomach looked firm, his bare arms bulky with muscle instead of flab.
I looked back down as I felt his briefs snag while I pulled on them.
I carefully pulled the elastic out and down over the head of his shaft. Even his cock was stocky- thick and heavily veined, it drooped over the waistband of his briefs as I pulled them down farther.
He had heavy, low-hanging balls, as thickly furred as the rest of his groin. The smell of him was almost overpowering, his presence intimidating as he loomed over me with arms crossed once more.
I reached up, wrapping my hand around his width. My fingers barely met around his girth and even half-erect he almost overflowed my hand; the sharp contrast between my pink palm and his dark, purplish-black flesh made him seem all the bigger.
He stirred slightly in my grasp and laid a hand on my head, pulling me toward him with a firm tug on my hair.
