1
"Phil?" my wife yelled up the stairs, the words I dreaded every Saturday morning since Spring had arrived. "Are you going to try to find my dishes today?"
"Sure babe," I replied, not looking forward to wading through all the junk in the garage, looking for some special family china in one of dozens of look-alike boxes. We said our goodbyes and she left for her twelve-hour-plus shift.
We had moved hastily to downtown Boston, to take advantage of a first-year surgical residency for Julie. I work online, and luckily we had no kids and didn't have to worry about school districts. We rented a brick townhouse within walking distance of her new job. The building was so old that I think the British had shot it up during the Revolution. As with all structures in this 'working class' neighborhood, it had been added on to and renovated several times. The backs of the houses were a jungle of small courtyards, passageways and carriage houses, all brick, and some had common roofs, separated by a breezeway beneath. Most of the alley that sat behind our house and the similar dwelling next door was hidden from view at all angles, especially because of the three-story, monolithic, windowless hospital heating plant behind us. The narrow passageway would have made a good crime scene, except that it was dead-ended by a new concrete wall on one end, and blocked by a shipping container at the other. Only our two adjacent houses had access. Weeds, an old wheelchair, boards and trash were the sole occupants, I saw through a dirty window as I began to comb through the brown cartons.
About a half hour into my search, I was startled by someone in the alley. I looked out the window and saw it was the old man from next door. I didn't know his name, and I had only had a few polite conversations with one of the young mothers in the house, Elena, whose English was heavily accented but correct and precise. I say 'one of the young mothers' because I think there were three families living there, at least eight kids, plus the grandparents.
Immigrants from Eastern Europe, they were quite loud during the day but quiet at night, and I had traded respectful nods with the young fathers, who were sometimes curbside, arguing on their cell phones and working on their taxis, apparently their livelihood.
So I look out the window and the old guy, who was gray, nearly bald, and about sixty I guess, dressed as always in polyester pants and a faded dress shirt, lit a cigarette. No big deal, I didn't blame him for wanting to escape the chaotic house full of screaming kids. Luckily the little hellions hadn't discovered the alley, apparently a locked door kept them out of his quiet space.
I was about to turn away and continue my search, when I see his hand reach down and appear to unzip his pants. Just great, I thought, he's going to add a stale piss stench to the musty smell already present in this damp area the sun never reaches.
My angle of view was from the back, more or less, and suddenly I saw his arm moving back and forth.
The old guy was jerking off
!
My pulse increased. Yes I'm married, but I secretly still like dicks sometimes. The urge comes and goes. I look at gay porn or videos of guys jacking it once in a while, and my wife's long hours at work were making our sex life erratic, so I felt adventurous this morning. Just about anyone would keep watching, I told myself.
I had 'experimented', as they say, in college, before I met Julie. I was drunk at a boring year-end hall party that was mostly guys. In a case of mistaken identity, I guess, a guy came over to me and said into my ear that 'his friend Hunter said I gave great blowjobs'. I didn't know anyone by that name. It may have been a ploy by him alone, or he may have been sent by someone as a practical joke. Regardless, I had enough alcohol-induced bravery that I laughed and said 'Okay'. We went up to the roof access level of the dorm's stairwell and I extracted, yanked and sucked on the guy's nice, thick six inches until he filled my mouth with jizz. I never saw that guy again, and there were no repercussions to my reputation as far as I knew. I enjoyed that adventure to the point of posting online, but chickened out on answering any of the few replies. I wished I had been sober during that first blowjob, so I could recall every detail and nuance as I thought about it when jacking my own meat sometimes.
So back to the old man, he was hammering away, and in a few minutes I saw several streams of sperm splatter onto the brick pavement. He zipped up, mashed out his cigarette with his worn black dress shoe, and left. I looked at the time, and wondered if it was a daily or weekly routine with him; I would have loved to watch him do it again. Judging by the amount of fluid he expelled, I was betting it had been at least week since he last shot a wad.
Not thirty minutes later I found the dishes Julie wanted. I repacked them with some old newspapers on top, and stuffed them back into the pile of boxes. Suddenly I wanted to spend
more
time in the garage. A later inspection of the outer passageway revealed quite a few cigarette butts, so his habit, at least the smoking part, was more frequent than I thought.
2
I wasn't able to escape Sunday morning, and things got busy with my job during the next week. I didn't get much time to think about the old man until Saturday morning again, when I was alone once more.
Sure enough, about ten o'clock, he appeared in the alley, lit up and began to stroke his meat once again. This time I could see everything. His cock was golden brown, with thick veins crisscrossing it and a large, uncircumcised mushroom head.
I was enjoying the show, and instinctively thought about my lips surrounding it, when it occurred to me that
maybe he would let me suck it!
It seemed a waste to let all that sperm just splash onto the ground. Hopefully he would at least invite me join him in jerking. I knew I had to seize this opportunity. My mind grappled with the question of how to approach the masturbating old man. I decided to 'catch' him in the act, and offer my assistance. My heart racing, I crept out of the garage, not wanting to spook him with a noise. I took a deep breath before rounding the corner, making myself visible to him. Slowly I peeked down the wall. There he was, concentrating on the task at hand, literally. My dick jolted in my pants
I took a few more steps and he looked up and saw me, about fifteen feet away. Embarrassed, he stuffed his stiff meat, at least seven inches, into his pants, and turned to leave. I whistled to get his attention, gave him a smile and a two thumbs up. I didn't bother to speak, since I doubted he spoke English. As I stepped closer and out of public view, I then pointed at my mouth, formed in an outstretched 'O', then his crotch. Only after I had revealed my intentions, did it occur to me that he may not want a male slurping on his pecker, and would tell his rough-looking housemates that I was a closet kielbasa lover. I was so nervous I could feel my ears throbbing.
The old man looked shocked, but after a couple seconds smiled, missing a few of his teeth. He apparently got my meaning and motioned me closer. His zipper was still down when I got there, dropping to my knees and sitting back on my calves to lower my mouth level with the gorgeous prick he was pulling from his gray polyester pants.
He stunk of many days of body odor, which turned me on even more. In seconds his hard cock was pointing at my face as my dick grew in my pants. I could feel my heart pounding as I raised my hand to clutch the base, and stretched my tongue to lick the head, the outer reaches of which were still covered with the foreskin.
My first sober taste of dick was salty and a great appetizer. I wanted to lick up and down the shaft, but couldn't resist just opening my jaw and impaling my throat with it. I gagged immediately and felt my nose tickled by his thick gray pubes before my reflexes audibly ejected his fat head out a couple inches, my shoulders jolting. I heard him mumble and begin to breathe heavily as I closed my lips tightly around the pulsing shaft and drew in, making my cheeks cave. I reared my head back and felt his skin slide along the engorged muscle beneath. In moments the inside of my lips collided with the rim of the broad helmet, the signal to switch directions. I was too slow to halt and the pliable lip and foreskin tissues contorting made a loud smack as the pressure released. I relaxed my jaw, again descending to impale my throat on it, but keeping my lips tight enough to drag his skin downward along the muscle. I continued this cycle, increasing the pace, noise level, and excess slobber until I had to pull up for air. Panting, I caught my breath as I licked his shaft all over, my chin dripping, pausing to kiss, tug and stretch his skin outward slightly. I suddenly wanted to do this all day. My own dick was rock hard.
One of the other regrets I had about my first blowjob was not playing with the guy's nuts. I redeemed myself here, and the hand that wasn't holding the base during my tongue worship reached beyond the zipper and encountered a hairy, severely drooping sack, but with large balls that felt great in my hand.
I had resumed my quick, head bobbing, squishy-noise, gag and suck job for less than two minutes when his hips thrust forward, he gasped, and my palate was flooded with heated, salty, creamy sperm. I refrained from swallowing immediately in order to play with it on my tongue, and some dribbled down my chin as his satisfied meat exited. I wiped the gooey strings upwards as he retreated, placing a hand on his chest, referring to himself.
"Viktor, Viktor," He said grinning, as a post blowjob-introduction, then pointed to his watch, then held up four fingers.
"Phillip," I pointed at myself, and held up my own four fingers, laced with his jizz, nodding.
Somehow, I managed to keep from jerking off the rest of the day, almost in disbelief that I had actually given another blowjob, and loved it. Of course I wandered back out to the garage about a quarter to four that afternoon. As a cover, I dragged a wheeled trash can around to make it look like I was doing work, not trolling for more dick. Soon Viktor rounded the corner, with
another old guy.