Just a Cup of Coffee

Several years ago, immediately after college, I went to work on a North Sea oil rig as a macho right of passage, before settling into the real world. The life was mostly what it is portrayed to be: Hard work, long days, tough weather and larger than life, hairy-assed guys. There were no women on the rigs at that time; there are now, so I am told. Everything was very macho, and any hint of non-heterosexual tendency met with enough cruel treatment that the poor victims quit in disgrace. It happened to one guy I knew of. Someone broke into his locker and reputedly found a vibrator. They backed him a cake in the shape of a cock and balls, added wires, batteries and whipped cream, and presented it to him while he was eating dinner in a crowded mess-hall. The poor bastard never lived it down. And the subsequent teasing caused him to quit.

The work life was 14 days offshore working 12 hours a day, followed by 14 days R&R. The days-off were one long orgy of excess, drinking and chasing women. Aberdeen, Scotland, was an oil-boom town at the time, so men outnumbered women, and there was more chasing women than catching them going on. Drinking was a favourite hobby.

On night, about two days after coming ashore, I had been out drinking with my buddies. The bar closed and I was walking back to my apartment in the drizzling rain. It was a little bit after midnight, if I remember correctly. I stopped on my walk to look in the windows of a motorcycle store that I passed. There was a Ducati in the showroom that I lusted for badly.

As I was looking at the bike I became aware that someone was approaching. I turned my head, and saw a guy about my age walking towards me. There was only the two of us on the street. I felt no concern; I was young, strong from working on the rigs, thought of myself as about as macho as it is possible to be, and I was still a little bit drunk.

The stranger continued to approach, and when he was near enough he said, "Hey there, do you know any where I could get a cup of coffee around here?"

I answered, "Not at this time of night, pal. Maybe at the railway station down there, but other than that everywhere's closed."

"So, where are you going?" he asked.

"Home," I replied.

"Mmm," he said, "that sounds nice. Do you have any coffee there?"

I realized I had been propositioned. I thought for a minute, and the said, "You know, I should punch your lights out right now, shouldn't I?"

He looked a bit worried, and the apologized: "Hey. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to piss you off, but……" He trailed off mid sentence.

"Well, if you want a cup of coffee, I don't live too far from here, and I'll give you a cup of coffee. But that's all!" I heard myself saying. I was almost as surprised as he was!

"Hi, my name's Geoff," he introduced himself, sticking out his hand.

"Dave," I replied, touching his hand like boxers touch gloves.

We walked to my apartment, climbed the stairs, and as I opened the door I said, "OK. Here we are. Cream and Sugar?" the first words spoken since our belated introduction on the street, several minutes before.

The apartment had a kitchen, bedroom, bathroom and living room. I pointed Geoff into the living room and went into the kitchen to make the coffee. All the time, I was wondering what the hell I was doing this for.

I handed him a mug of coffee and sat down opposite him with one for myself. "Why did you approach me?" I asked. While in college a guy who lived in the same dorms and was flagrantly queer once told me that I was the one guy he would never dream of hitting on, so I was fascinated as to why Geoff had done so.

"Dunno. Well, you looked attractive, and you were alone, so I though maybe … Oh ... I dunno," he stumbled. Then he looked at me and said, "You're curious, aren't you?"

I felt myself coloring up. I was sober now, after the passage of time and the coffee. After a few moments under his gaze I admitted, "Well, yeah, I suppose so."

He reached out and put his hand on my neck, moving in for a kiss, it seemed like. I said, "Whoa, I don't know about kissing anyone with a moustache, except maybe my Grandma!" He laughed, stopped moving towards me, but slid his left hand down to the small of my back and began stroking. His other hand moved to my chest and began tickling my nipple through my shirt. This guy was good; I'd never had a chick turn me on by touch so quickly. With a little pressure, he wordlessly suggested we stand up. His hand moved easily around to the front, and, single handed, he undid my belt, unbuttoned my jeans, and slid down the zipper. My erection was sort of tangled up in my Y-fronts. His hand slid inside, freed my hard-on form its constraint, and began caressing my throbbing dick.

I stood there not believing what I was experiencing. My heart was pounding. I was scared to death that one of my workmates would find out, but at the same time doing nothing to stop the progress events were taking.

Geoff stopped fondling my balls, and one button at a time, undid my shirt. It's a move I'd done on girls before; now I was being seduced and undressed.

With my shirt open, my jeans unzipped, and my cock exposed, I stood there. "Don't move," he said, and walked into the kitchen. I heard him opening and closing cupboards. In a few moments he was back, his own shirt off, and a bottle of vegetable cooking oil in his hand. He set the bottle of oil on a table, and stepped over to begin stroking my chest and groin again. One handed, he undid his own jeans, then took my hand and put it on his cock.

He slipped my shirt off completely, and pushed down my jeans. I found myself helping him kick them off. Somehow, he got rid of his own pants too. The clumsy bit was when we took our socks off, hoping around on one leg with a turgid member wobbling back and forth; quite a sight to see!

By this time, I didn't know what exactly was going to happen next, but I knew I was going to do it, whatever it was.

Geoff got the oil, poured some in his hand and smoothed them together. He began to work my cock, the oil mixing with the precum. I sank to the floor, and Geoff followed me down, kneeling beside me as he jacked me off. One hand was oiling and massaging my balls, and the other working the shaft, using his thumb to apply a little extra attention to the frenulum, the really sensitive bit where your foreskin attaches. Neither of us were circumcised.

I was fondling his equipment, but couldn't reach it easily, and I was becoming more and more working up so I couldn't concentrate on attending to him.

Soon, he bent over me and began licking and nibbling my nipple. Guys are not know for sensitive nipples, but mine are. How he knew this I do not know. He nibbled, licked and bit just enough to cause that pleasurable pain that makes you gasp, but not scream. After a few moments of this his tongue started making a trial down my torso, moving its slow and slippery way towards my crotch. My eyes were closed and I was just one nerve network feeding pleasure into my brain.

Geoff licked the crease where my thigh met my belly and I gasped at the sensation. No one had ever done that before. Soon I felt his lips on my cock and his tongue caressing the head of my cock. His hand was still slowly working the shaft, almost kneading it between his fingers and thumb.

He realized I was getting ready to come, and he moved his hand from my balls and began sliding an oily finger into my ass. I came like Mount Vesuvius, shooting cum into his mouth, arching my back and groaning like a porn star. Geoff stopped working my cock. Cum dribbled from his mouth onto my stomach, and he began rubbing it into my skin like it was lotion. He was smiling. "OK …. Good, even?" he asked.

By way of an answer, I pushed him over onto his back on the floor, oiled up my hands, and began working him, too. He gave me directions: "A bit more pressure … that's it ... Not too fast … OK … now, play with my ass … Yes." Soon, Geoff came, too. His eyes were tightly closed and he was breathing short, sharp breaths until, with a release of breath that was almost like a cough, he spewed his load and grabbed my hand to stop working his throbbing, super-sensitive cock as he uttered a series of "Oh – uh – ohhh" panting sounds.

After a few minutes I said, "We'd better clean up," and I went to get us some towels. We wiped off the cum, and got dressed smiling, but without words.

"I'd better be going," he said, once he was dressed. "It was fun. Thanks for the coffee".

"You're welcome," I replied, "we should get together for coffee again, some time." He smiled, touched my shoulder, then left. We never did hook up again.

Now, years later, I'm married, with a sexy wife who loves to fuck. But, every now and again, I wish I could find another guy like Geoff.