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An Evening Proposal
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An Evening Proposal Wow. I forgot I had this blog. It's been six years since I posted anything, but the last few days I've been obsessing over the topic at hand, or in mouth, perhaps. For the last five years or so, I've been seeing a male sex worker. He is in his late forties, in very good shape, but you know what? Its not his physical characteristics that keep me coming back. So, you might want to know, "Why a sex worker, when surely you could find it for free?" Well, first of all, no complications. No fear of getting a phone call at an inopportune time. No drama. No demands, other than a polite acknowledgement that the service will cost money. And even that he lets me pay at the end. Secondly, we genuinely like each other. When I get there, we hug, and its a sincere hug. And frankly, when we do, I love the bulge in his pants poking at me. Third, he gives a great, and I mean great, massage. Fourth, he is quite understanding, and good at<b> role playing </font></b>games. Ok, now I'm boring you. On to the good stuff. Near the beginning of our relationship, he slowly introduced me to anal sex. (Him in me.) I'm pretty open about things, so if that helps the evening be successful, so be it. I always leave with a happy ending. (Hand job by him. My preference.) A few times in our sessions, he has done things that put me up against an emotional wall. For example, he started to kiss me. Well, on here I identify as a straight guy who likes the concept of sucking cock. Honestly, though, I admit I'm bisexual, because it just takes too much useless energy to deny it to myself, and so I just go with the bi thing. But in my head, I've recognized that the energy I love in a woman is my primary attraction. I turn my head for women walking down the street. I've never turned my head for a man. So, when he tried to kiss me, I made it clear with my stiff lips that I wasn't all that open to that. He didn't try again for a while. When he did, I responded, but not enthusiastically. So, it's been a while since he tried. In my heterosexual relationships, I've had a long struggle with a on/off girlfriend that I love deeply and dearly to this day. We made love often, and I always plunged deep into our session without restriction, just allowing whatever, and loving the feelings that resulted. But this has come to an end, and I have not found the same kind of relationship in any other woman. Ever. I found myself, the other day, wondering what fear in me had caused me to pull back from his kiss. I mean, I'm not going to die. I've done ickier things, really. So there is just some thought in my head that I can't enjoy a kiss with this man. What if I kissed him and ignored that thought? And do you know what? THAT thought made me horny. I can just hear some of you saying, Dude, you're gay. Whatever. At this stage in my life, I just want to enjoy. I don't want to carry around limiting fears in my head any more. They don't serve me. So, I called him yesterday, for a session tomorrow night, and I told him that I wanted to explore some barriers I had put up between us. He said, "Great. I'll have the wine ready, and we can chat ahead of time!" So, for the last 36 hours or so, my heart has been beating quicker, I've been getting frequent hard-ons, and I can't stop thinking about tomorrow night. Today, I started thinking about his penis. You know what? I don't know what to call it. Cock? Hmmmm, sounds like my speech is writing a cheque my street smart can't cash. Penis? Too clinical. Dick? Too dismissive. Member? Too coy. But, instead of calling it a name, if I just think about it, its weight, its warmth, its thickness, the way it gets hard, I get turned on. When he massages me (both of us nude), I wait for the times when I can feel it press against some part of my body. When I can feel it near my hand, I reach my fingers and hold it, briefly. And, frankly, I've always been a little embarrassed to ask for some quality alone time, me, and it. Occasionally, I have asked to suck it, although the word suck doesn't really accurately describe what I do. But, to be honest, I haven't spent a lot of time doing that. I do it for short periods of time, and I can't figure out why if this is something I have wanted to do for some time. I mean, wouldn't you think I would just go to town on it? Maybe another barrier I have put up. Ok, its probably time to address a couple of things. We do not love each other. I can't imagine living with him, and except for times like this when I can't stop thinking about his - er, thing, I don't think about him at all. And I know he doesn't feel that way about me either. So here I am today, thinking about tomorrow. I discovered this blog I haven't posted in for six years, and thought, hmmm, maybe this is the place to write about this. Now for the entertainment portion of this post. Here's my imagination thinking how tomorrow might go. He opens the door, and, like he always does, reaches out for a hug. Tonight, I am paying special attention to the area between my legs, feeling for his bulge. My eyes close and I drink in the feel of his bulge through our clothing. Polite chit chat. Then we move to his couch. I grab the wine he offers, wanting quickly to get the alcohol into my bloodstream to begin the process of lowering my inhibitions. I want to start separate from him, at first. Perhaps in a seat facing him. I want to feel the tension, that hunger. I want to savour the thought of the heavy warmth between his legs. I know how he will react when I tell him about my obsession. Later, I know he will make sure I have plenty of opportunity to feel his cock press against me. He'll probably tease me by running the tip across my lips, and then ... But back to the couch. I gulp down the wine, and he refills my glass. I am happy. I can feel the warmth of the alcohol in my face now, and my hunger to move towards him builds. But I love savouring, so I just look, and smile. I start by telling him how turned on I am, then I am silent. He gets up, and moves across the room. He starts to unzip as he does. "No." I tell him. "Too soon. Just enjoy the tension." He continues walking towards me, then stops. His genitals, still hidden behind layers of cotton, are inches from my face. He reaches down, and cradles my face in his hands. I turn away, and take another sip of wine. I motion for him to sit beside me. We are still, at first, and in my mind, I replay the idea of a kiss. How would I react? Will I stiffen my lips, and keep him at bay, or do I plunge in the way I used to with my girlfriend, softly, but then aggressively pursuing his tongue? And, who will offer their lips first? I raise my hand, and place it on his thigh. I stroke it softly, but the message is clear. I rush down the second glass of wine, and hand the glass to him for a refill. It always takes three glasses before my urges run freely. But the desire coming from the chakra that sits just above my groin, is out of the barn. I know there will be no barriers tonight. My hand grazes his cheek, and settles on his lips. Our eyes are locked on to each other, and we are quiet. I can feel my heart pounding, and then I see his waiting lips. A locomotive, at this point, could not keep me from kissing him. My left hand, waiting patiently, moves down between his legs, and softly traces the outline of his bulge. I feel it harden. Then, as I pull away from his lips, I whisper in his ear .... "Let me tell you what I have been obsessing about for the last two days." Well, that's all for tonight. I may write more after the date ..... |
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