CrazyAngel

Subject: What A Life 1 This is the fictional memoir of a gay man, told in the first person. Some of the stories in this series are based on actual experiences, usually embellished a lot, as well as completely fictional ones. They depict sex between consenting adult males. If this offends you, do not read them. These are my stories. Please respect the copyright. If you enjoy them, let me know at ail. Please Contribute to fty and keep this wonderful resource going! This is the third in a series of books that began with C'est La Vie! (1970-1997), and continued with One Thousand Men (1998). Th stories in this book start in 1999 and continue to the present. I hope you like them! What a Life 1 1999, AH! SPRING A Sunday afternoon late in March. Spring was really blooming in Philly. I was about to turn forty-one in April. The weather had suddenly gone warm, the buds of the trees were bursting, and more and more flowers were out every day. The temperature was in the low seventies for the first time since last fall. I was feeling great but, like the sap rising in the trees, I was feeling like I could burst. If life was renewing itself all around me, in me it was manifested as a dull ache in my balls, and a hot desire to be with another man. In short, I was hornier than I had felt since New Year's Day. Horny and desperate for action. I knew that I could check into Club Body--Philly's baths--and find guys just as horny as me. I always was able to hook up with at least one guy there, and often as many guys as I could handle. The sex would often be hot, anonymous and short. But that was not really what I wanted today. I wanted someone I could talk to, someone who I could make long, slow love to and be with for a least a few hours, sharing the intimacy that's so special between two men. I decided to stop in at Woody's. Maybe there would be someone there that I could get to know and go home with--my place or his, it didn't matter--and spend the afternoon enjoying each other's bodies. Maybe even dinner and some more lovemaking. Anyway, I figured that if I didn't hook up, I could always walk the half-block to the Club, and at least get some relief. So, around two o'clock I found myself sitting at Woody's bar, nursing a lager. There were a bunch of other guys (there always are, no matter what time of day!), but no one who really struck my fancy. No rush though, I could afford to sit and wait a bit before going with plan B. After twenty minutes I was only about half-way down on my lager, when the door opened and a silhouette entered, then paused while his eyes got used to the dim light. I got a chance to check him out, and I liked what I saw. He was about 6' tall, slim, well dressed in chinos and a windbreaker, African-American, with a handsome face, close-cropped hair and graying temples. I guessed him to be in his late 40s, but with his handsome, smooth face and poised figure, he exuded the energy of someone younger. As his eyes got used to the light, he scanned the surroundings. I guessed that he might be an out-of-towner, and had never been in Woody's before. In a minute, his gaze met mine and I held it, lifting my glass to salute him while he looked at me. He smiled a broad smile with his full lips, revealing a set of perfect teeth, and then he started moving over to where I was sitting. He held out his hand: "Aaron," he said. I said "John," shaking his hand. "Pleased to meet you." And after a pause, "What are you drinking?" He asked "What are you drinking?" "Yuengling Lager," I replied, even though here in Philly we usually just order lager, and that is the brand that is served. "Say, what?" he said. "I guess you're not from Philly," I said. "Yuengling is the oldest brewery in the nation, close to Philly, and this is a really good beer. Let me buy you one, OK?" He smiled and nodded, and I signaled to the bartender to bring another. "So, Aaron, you've never been to Philly? Where are you from?" I asked. "Yeah, first time here. I'm from Charlotte, up for a convention for the week. I got here this morning and checked into my hotel, just up the street. My company tuzla escort booked me into a really nice suite on the top floor. Great view! Philly looks like a big, interesting place." "Yes. Big, interesting and friendly," I said, "the City of Brotherly Love." "Sounds like my kind of place," he responded. The bartender arrived with his beer, and we clinked bottles. He made himself comfortable on his barstool, and took off his windbreaker. Wow, this guy was really hot! Under his windbreaker he was wearing a high-end, tailored, black tee shirt. It draped over a beautiful body. His chest was chiseled, and his nipples showed through the soft fabric. His arms filled out the sleeves with well-developed biceps and triceps. Sitting on his stool, turning to face me slightly, I saw a pleasing bulge in his khakis, and the swell of muscular thighs underneath. My cock stirred in my pants. I hope this works out, I said to myself. I think this he is exactly what I am looking for today. We talked a bit. I learned that he was single, working for a pharmaceutical company, interested in classical music, jazz, world music, art, food--in short, a lot of the things I am interested in. As we talked, he gradually relaxed more and more, and turned to face me. As he did so, his knee touched mine. I did not withdraw, but savored the warmth of his leg coursing through mine. And as we talked, there started to be little touches: on the hand, the shoulder, and then on my thigh. And the bulge between his legs grew perceptibly. "I've heard that the men in Philly are really friendly," he said. I said, "Well I don't know about all of them, but I guess that's true. I know I am!" "Yeah?" he said. "How about we go to my hotel and you can show me whether Philly truly is the City of Brotherly Love?" "I thought you would never ask!" I said. "Let's go." I put down a generous tip for the bartender, and we walked out into the spring afternoon. We were walking quickly, anxious for what would come next. He walked with the masculine grace of a puma, and I marveled at his trim waist and round, firm butt as we walked along. We got to his hotel, a couple of blocks away, and got into the elevator with a group of other guests, some going to the same floor. Damn, I thought. I would really like to get this guy in my arms and start making love to him now. I followed him down the hall to his room and he opened the door. As soon as it closed, I was in his arms, feeling his powerful body against mine. Our lips met, kissing softly at first. It was wonderful to feel his full, warm lips on mine as his tongue slowly started exploring my eager mouth. This was exactly what I needed today: tenderness and passion, not anonymous bathhouse sex. As we kissed, my hands ran up and down his firm back. "God," I whispered, "your body is incredible. How do you keep it that way?" "Well," he answered, "I do work out two to three times per week, but its mostly genes, I guess. All the men in my family have good physiques, whether they work out or not." "Lucky you.," I said. "But you feel pretty hot yourself," he said. I take my compliments where I can get them, but it always feels good to be desired by a hot guy. I had worked on my body a lot just before turning forty, and had gotten pretty hot looking then. It was a lot of work but paid off in a project I hatched: to have sex with one thousand men during the year I turned 40. I actually beat that number [read about it in One Thousand Men here on fty] and I had managed to keep my body up, as I had kept it when I was working at averaging sex more than three times a day. At any rate, it was paying off today, and that is what mattered. Slowly, I pulled up his tee shirt and slipped it off over his head. His chest and abs were incredible; one of those tight defined bodies without an ounce of fat that some black men are blessed with, and many other guys find harder to come by as the years roll by. He was dark, silky and smooth, and his erect nipples were very inviting. Slowly, I kissed my way down his neck to his chest, and licked my way over to his right pendik escort nipple, taking it between my lips and working it with my lips and tongue. "Oh, fuck, yeah," he whispered, and a low moan escaped his lips. He unbuttoned my shirt while I was working is nips, and slipped it off over my shoulders. Then I was back up kissing him again, this time more urgently. Our bare chests were pasted together, and man, his hot lean body felt so good against mine! Slowly our pelvises pressed into each other. We were both hard. It was so hot feeling his excitement against mine, knowing that he wanted me as much as I wanted him. His hotel suite was fantastic. Spacious, light-filled, and on such a high floor that there was nobody who could see in from outside. I had the sensation of having sex outdoors, but with no worry that we might be seen by anyone else. There was no reason to draw the curtains, and I reveled in seeing every detail of his beautiful body in the full light of day. We moved over next to the bed, and I kissed my way down his chest and abs, gradually kneeling in front of him. I unbuckled his belt slowly as my tongue worked around his belly button, then unbuttoned the waist and slowly, deliberately, pulled down his zipper. I eased my hand into his fly as I slowly pulled is chinos down, and felt his hard cock through the tight white fabric of his briefs. If his torso was incredible, his cock promised to be more so. It felt long and thick and incredibly hard, and as I caressed it with my fingertips he moaned loudly "Oh yes. Man, that feels soooo good!" I untied his shoes and he kicked them off, then stepped out of his pants. I stood back a little to look at him. He was a picture of male beauty: dark, smooth, glistening skin, muscular thighs, a slim waist and that incredible chest-abs-arms combo that had me delirious. I couldn't wait to free the package in his briefs and make love to it. But now it was my turn. He knelt before me, undid my belt and the waist of my jeans, and repeated what I had done to him a few minutes earlier. But as I stepped out of my jeans, he moved forward and started mouthing my erection through my briefs. He worked me with his mouth for a few minutes to my appreciative groans. All the while, his sensitive hands were exploring my chest, arms, legs and back. It is amazing how many erogenous zones we have when the conditions are right. Every inch of my body felt like it was responding to sexual stimulation. After a few minutes, I pulled him up so that we could kiss more, and then he sat on the bed next to me. With our arms around each other, and our tongues in each other's mouths, our hands simultaneously were exploring each other's cocks. I pushed down the waist of his briefs and he did the same to me. Our hands softly and ever so lightly caressed the other's cock, swirling around the head and stroking down the shaft with the lightest teasing pressure. His cock was thick but not too thick, long but not too long, maybe seven and one-half inches and about five around, just thick enough that my fingers could just meet as I grasped it and not so big that I could not easily take it in my ass. Our lips and tongues mimicked our hands, softly kissing and exploring each other's oral nooks and crannies. A few minutes later, we found ourselves stretched out on the bed, first side-by-side, then with me on top, kissing, humping, enjoying his body, and then with him on top, grinding his hard cock into mine, his lips and tongue into me, and all his taught muscles stretching to engulf me. Now I was on top again, and I slowly tongued my way down his neck and chest, working his nipples again, and then slowly going down his abs to above his cock, around to the side, down his thigh to his knee, over to the other knee, up his thigh, kissing the inside, then softly licking and kissing his balls, licking and kissing my way up the underside of his cock, and finally swirling my tongue around his throbbing cock-head. He was gasping for breath and saying "Oh, God, John, don't stop. That feels so fuckin' hot!" Slowly, my mouth took his cock in, aydınlı escort lightly caressing it with my lips and tongue, then gradually adding pressure and speed, until he was gasping for breath, and he pushed my head away saying "No, I'm too close" He pulled me up to kiss him, and the next five or ten minutes--who knows how long because time seemed to stop--we kissed and caressed and lightly swirled our fingers around each other's cocks, balls, and ass-holes. My God, I thought, this afternoon could not have been more perfect and fulfilled my dreams any better, at least not if what I think is next is going to happen! I was on top, our lips locked together, and I went down on him once more. I brought him near to climax, and then switched my attentions to his balls, and slowly proceeded toward his asshole, gradually lifting his legs and ass off the bed until his legs were over his head and his ass was staring me straight in the face. I rimmed him. God, how I rimmed him! My lips worked over his cheeks and ass, my tongue probed him, and for the next ten minutes he was gasping, groaning and writhing under my attentions. While my tongue worked his ass, my hands worked his abs, chest and nips, then moved up to his mouth where he sucked in my fingers and worked them with his tongue. We both briefly came up for air, and I was again stretched out on him, kissing and humping. "Please fuck me John," he gasped. "I need it so bad!" Welcome words, not that I needed them, because I had known for a while that this is where it was going to go. He was prepared: on the bedside table were condoms, lube, towels and even a bottle of poppers. Aaron traveled prepared! I pulled on a condom, as he lay panting below me with a desperate glazed look in his eye. I lubed up, and lubed his ass, pushing in one finger, then two, swirling them around to stretch him. He couldn't take it anymore. He pulled me to him, and as we kissed, his hand wrapped around my cock and guided me into his waiting hole. God, what heaven I was in! It fit like a glove: not too tight, not too loose, warm, comforting, and as he squeezed me, I realized that he was very practiced at giving another man pleasure with his ass. Slowly, I began to stroke in and out. When I pushed, he pushed back. His face was smiling with a desperate, ecstatic smile, a smile that said "Give me more." It was fantastic to watch his hot body writhing under me as I slowly moved in and out of him, and then as our desperation increased, started pumping harder until I was pounding furiously, and his body was moving almost with violence under me, pushing for climax. Without missing a beat, he reached over on the bedside table, opened the poppers and took a deep whiff, and then held them up to my nose, while I did the same. The warm rush flooded both of us, and I felt myself letting go, all my energy and passion rush out my cock into the condom in his ass, while a short while later his cock spewed hot white cum all across his taught, black chest. Spent, I collapsed on him, our lips locked in a passionate embrace, our bodies entwined like they would never part. We lay like that for, what?--fifteen minutes--while we cooled and collected our senses. "God, Aaron, that was fucking perfect!" I said. "Ditto," was all he could muster. It was perfect, and I want more! Geez, I thought, is this my soul mate or what? My dream for that afternoon was better than I ever thought. We showered, making love in the shower, but not coming again yet. Then we spent a couple more hours talking, kissing, sharing a bottle of wine, and then deciding to have dinner. After dinner, we went back to his room, and this time I had the pleasure of feeling him take possession of me, his big cock up my ass, his lips glued to mine, his powerful body working its magic on me. We parted after midnight, but not before we had made a date to get together on Wednesday, when he would be available again. That evening of sharing each other was followed with an incredible Wednesday night together, where we made love four times, once before dinner, two after, and once the next morning, before he had to pack and go home. We vowed to keep in touch and have gotten together a couple of times since. Ah! Spring in Philly. What could be better (except, possibly, summer, fall and winter!!)?