This s a story of pure homosexual lust. It is not a story of love or affection. It i So if you're after something more subtle or tender, you can read one of my other stories, but this one is not for you.
You know how it is. Some days you wake up and you've just got to have sex. And it has to be with another man. But you don't have a boyfriend or a fuck buddy. All you can think about is getting naked and dirty with some guy.
That's how I felt this particular day. I wanted to get myself fucked. I found myself thinking about all the times I could have done this with various men.
When I was younger, I had thought it was wrong and although I fantasised about sucking various people's cocks I wouldn't have dreamed of setting anything up. There was the time when I was buying swimming shorts and they were too long, so the guy in the shop, who was a limp-wristed type, had said he would take them up an inch or two. He had taken me into the back room and tucked the legs up a little, sliding a finger up so it touched my balls. I could have reacted to that in some inviting way and had a sexual experience there and then, but I shied away from it.
And the old guy in the gents' toilet in Bristol who invited me to his place and said he had another young man there, waiting for "us". I had rushed out of there, but soon I was gasping with desire. I should have gone with him and let him watch as this other guy and I sucked each other off or whatever he had wanted to see. Or maybe he wanted me to suck him off, this old man who most people would regard as a pervert, when all he was doing was trying to get his own animal desires satisfied. I should have sucked him and licked his arse and let him wank on my chest while the other one wanked on my balls or into my crack.
You will notice that I haven't mentioned getting fucked in those days. That's because I wasn't convinced it was really done or even possible. It was in the days before internet porn showed us all that whatever we want, there is someone out there who will do it. Now, as an old man, I love having a cock up my arse, but opportunities are limited.
Anyway, this day I was desperate to get buggered and I decided to go about my business and just see if anyone wanted to do it. As it happened, I was looking out the front window when Ken came walking along. He was a handyman who had fixed a couple of things for me, and I had always suspected he was on the verge of suggesting something but held back because he thought he would be rebuffed.
I tapped on the window and caught his attention. He came to the door. I let him in. I gave him some story about the electricity being intermittent and asked him to check it out.
Ken was tall and slim and rugged, with unkempt hair and a greying beard. I'd say he was about 50. He was wearing blue overalls and I wanted them off. To do that, I was going to have to make the first move.
I bent over in front of him to turn a socket off and on again. It was the most blatant move in the book: presenting my arse to him. I was surprised at myself, yet I got a little thrill out of it.
I asked him to have a look, so he bent down, just as I had, and I stood close behind him so that when he straightened up, his bottom brushed the front of my trousers. He waited a split second to see if I would flinch, but I didn't. For that lovely moment our middle sections had touched and if there was anything there on his part, it would have been ignited.
I reached up to open the fuse box and he stood behind me, then reached past me to flick a switch. As he did so, his body pressed against mine, and again I stood my ground.
"Hmmm," he murmured, "Something is up. I need to have a closer look."
"It's especially bad in the bedroom," I found myself saying.
We walked through quietly and I sat on the bed. It was now or never.
"Have you ever... had sex with a man?" I stammered.
"Wow," Ken replied. "What a question. Why do you want to know?"
"Because sometimes I think you're thinking that kind of thing about me," I said, desperately trying to preserve my ego while giving in to the submissive side that had taken me over. I was very conscious of my age and my place in the community as a mature, sensible old man. I was acting like a young woman, a young tart trying to get herself fucked.
Ken thought for a few moments.
"And if someone was thinking that sort of thing about you," he said, cleverly turning the issue hypothetical and third-person, "how would you feel about that?"
I was lost for words, too scared to speak, yet I thought I detected some compassion in his voice, along with some growing confidence in his position. He was thinking - or I hoped he was thinking - this poor guy was consumed with lust for him and it could be the start of something exciting.
That was the word I wanted: exciting. Not beautiful or wonderful or any of the best-behaviour stuff. I wanted to stumble and slide on my arse down a hill of loose pebbles and dust to a place of depravity that awaited people like me, along with the experienced men who were going to make their fantasies come true.
