This story is a work of fiction. All characters are over the age of twenty-one years.
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Before cell phones and the internet the world was a smaller place. If you wanted something you might have found yourself searching the classifieds in the local paper or the bulletin board of a store. This is how I found myself sucking cock in a strangers house on a snowy night in 1978.
I was a college student who shared a room in a group house with anywhere from eight to fifteen students depending. Depending meant who had hooked up that night. The seventies were rather bohemian times.
I'm gay. This was not acceptable in those days and so discretion was a must. Getting some usually meant taking the very dangerous subway line to one of the private colleges across town. A surprising number of rich frat guys seemed to like my petite male form and boyish looks. Wearing a sweatshirt from a different university guaranteed a lot of attention because it signaled anonymity and maximized the strange. Everybody loves a little strange.
It was a wild time of life. Those rich college studs were willing to pump me full of cum but only in secret. I would slob a knob and leave with no worries from either party. Those tall, well muscled frat boys desperately needed me to kneel before them. If they lived alone they would occasionally bend me over a sturdy piece of furniture as well.
With little money to my name I needed transportation around the city. This meant a bike. I had found what I was looking for in the form of an ad from the bulletin board of a local bookstore. I walked contentedly through the sparse beginnings of the first snow, the ad from the bookstore carefully copied and placed in the pocket of my jeans. Arriving at the address I walked up to the door of a very nice older home. I knocked and waited in the twilight. We didn't have a phone at our house so this was a true cold call.
Staring at the ancient slate slabs that made up the front walk, I waited. The door swung open and there stood a very distinguished looking older man in a crisp black robe holding a pipe. He looked like a handsome character straight out of Hollywood. Not lacking confidence I explained the situation to Mr Hollywood. His eyes finally registered understanding and he motioned me in.
I stood in a large entry hall anchored in the back by a wide staircase. An ornate piano with the top flipped up like a convertible was visible through a wide doorway to the left. A heavily furnished room with a fireplace was to the right. I commented on the piano.
"I have never seen a piano like that before." I said truthfully.
"That is because it isn't a piano but rather an old-fashioned instrument called a harpsichord. " Mr Hollywood replied. "Each string is plucked using a complex mechanism and not struck like a piano. His speech was incredibly polished.
With a sweep of his hand he directed me toward the harpsichord. I quickly removed my wet sneakers and placed them neatly by the door so as not to track a mess into his home. He seemed to appreciate the gesture. Walking over I wanted to touch the antique instrument but refrained. Sensing this he spoke.
"Don't be afraid young man." He said. "It is clear you already have an innate respect for your surroundings." Holding out an arm he said, "Now take off that long coat and sit."
I did as directed and removed my heavy coat and handed it to him. Quickly sitting on the bench before the keyboard I let my eyes linger on his face briefly. He confidently returned my gaze and then turned to leave the room. After a momentary absence Mr Hollywood returned sans coat and his pipe. Moving behind me he leaned over, one arm on either side of me, his head to my left, fingers resting on the keys. A bit of pipe scent lingered. I loved the smell of pipe tobacco. It exuded a wonderful personal warmth.
"This is a quiet instrument." He said kindly. "Concert halls back then were much smaller and the experience was rather intimate."
The way he said intimate was clearly meant to gauge my interest. I had never taken notice of older men before but this guy's focus on me had me flattered. Alcohol, muscles and raw hormones had been the only tools applied to my libido up to this point. Being quietly seduced was incredibly flattering. I needed to fuck this guy. Mr Hollywood began to play.
The sound created was unique. Room filling yet not loud, the experience was simply perfection. He played for a few minutes and then rested his hands on my shoulders. Mr Hollywood had me and he knew it. I waited not sure what to do. Taking my hand he lead me to the other very formal room I had briefly viewed earlier. It was a room filled with expensive, well, everything. A fire warmed the space and cast an exquisite light.
Releasing his soft grip he turned and stood before me. He untied his sash and let gravity work its magic. His robe opened in a tantalizing way displaying just enough to make me want more . His body showed the same level of careful cultivation as his surroundings. The view was both erotic and tasteful. His chest down to the top of his pubic bone was surprisingly smooth given his full head of hair. My eyes traveled up and down admiring the view. I smiled somewhat shyly but secretly open to anything. He sat back in a large chair and the robe parted further, revealing himself to me. It was time.
"Undress and come here young man." He said with authority. "Its been far too long." The level of control expressed in his pointed command was inescapable. I obeyed, quickly removing my t-shirt, jeans and socks.
I stepped toward him, naked, my small cock curving sharply up, bouncing with each step. He made a twirling motion with his finger. I pirouetted before him like a puppet on a string and slowly knelt on the expensive rug. Not breaking eye contact the room seemed to buzz with our rising sexual energy. I reached forward.
"Not like that." He said. I didn't follow.
"How then?" I asked sheepishly.
