Better Late Than Never

Thomas began caressing and fondling my chest. He concentrated on my breasts; I yelped when he pinched a nipple a little too hard.

"Sorry, cutie. What happened next?"

"I was heading back to my car, but I only got about thirty-feet when I saw a shadow moving in the dark of the trees...by this time I'd given up on the idea of meeting someone and suddenly became afraid for my safety...I sped up and kept watching the treeline...a figure came out of the trees and walked directly at me..."

"That must have been scary!"

"Yes, it was, I didn't know what to expect...I slowed down as he came close to me and I heard him say something like 'Would you like some company?' but I wasn't sure...I said, Huh? And he repeated the question...when I was close enough to clearly see him, I said, 'Oh, okay'..."

"What did he look like?"

"Maybe six-seven years older than me - a little bigger - clean shaven - not real handsome but not ugly, either..."

"What happened next?"

"He said, 'C'mon' then walked into the darkness...I followed him...He stopped near a tree and took my hand and put it on his crotch - he had a hard-on..."

"Did you pull your hand away?"

"Uh...no, I gave it a squeeze...anyway, I had no idea what was expected from me - what the protocol was for a situation like this..."

Thomas chuckled. "Of course you didn't. What did you do next?"

"Like I said, I wasn't sure what to do so I reached for his belt and began to unfasten it...he stopped me and said 'Would you like to go to my apartment, it's right over there'...it was dark and I had no idea where he was pointing at so I just said 'Yes I would'...it wasn't very far and as soon as we were inside he offered me a beer, but I turned him down...he had me sit on the sofa while he went into the kitchen and when he came back I saw he was holding a joint..."

"His joint? So soon?"

I caught his meaning and laughed and said, "No, it was weed."

"Well, we smoked that thing but I didn't feel any different, probably because of all the booze I'd had earlier...anyway, out of the blue he asks me, 'Do you want to play strip poker?'

"Smooth," said Thomas with a smile.

"I said, Yeah, sure...so we sit on the floor, he shuffles and deals a hand, I end up losing and take off my shirt...then he lost a hand and removed his shirt...when he was shuffling for the next hand I remember thinking 'This is kind of silly, why don't we just get naked already'...anyway, we were both down to our briefs and I lost the next hand...this time, he helped me take them off and I was finally naked..."

"Sounds rather awkward."

"Yes, it was...I began thinking he didn't have much experience being queer!"

Thomas laughed again.

"Anyway, we sit there for awhile not saying anything when he looks at me very serious and says, "I would really like to fuck you!"

"Oh my goodness - finally, straight to the point. What was your answer?"

"I was, uh, quite surprised, I thought I'd be using my hands or mouth on him, it never occurred to me I would have to do THAT...anyway, I said something like 'Okay' or "Sure' and he helped me to my feet and led me to the bathroom...it was then I noticed his hard-on was really stretching out his underwear, and well, I became a little concerned about having something that big shoved inside me..."

"I guess you should have been concerned, being your first time, right?"

"Yes, this was my first time with a guy - my ONLY time with a guy...anyway, he pulled out a bottle of some kind of lotion and told me to bend over slightly with my hands on the sink...he pushed my legs wider apart then went to work behind me...the lotion was cold but I was grateful he was using it at all - I didn't think he'd fit inside me without some help...anyway, when my butt was good and greasy, we went back into the studio apartment to the bed in the middle of the room...he said, "Get on all-fours at the end of the bed!"

"Oh my - he was finally getting aggressive..."

"Well, I could tell he was horny as hell, his dick was so hard when he stripped off his briefs I hoped it didn't go off before he could do what he wanted with me..."

"You were really 'into' it, weren't you?"

"I was curious...I didn't know if I was queer or not and I wanted to find out...so I'm on the bed with my ass pointed at him...I look around and see him oiling his prick with the lotion...when he was done and took a step towards me, and the head of his dick pressed between my cheeks, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and waited for him..."

Thomas suddenly dipped his hand into my briefs and found my hard-on. The expression on his face persuaded me to do the same for him. When my hand was firmly wrapped around his impressive cock, my own prick throbbed.

He kissed me hard. I didn't hold back any longer, and returned the kiss. In the morning, I could blame it on the gin.

He yanked on my briefs until they were at my knees. I did the same for him. We kissed again and slowly masturbated each other.

"Okay, continue the story!"

I had to catch my breath before I could speak. My head was swimming in a delicious fog of lust and desire.

"Anyway, I felt the head of his cock at my entrance...he was trying to push it thru my anus...I gritted my teeth as he slowly and gently worked it inside me...then the pain began...he worked a fraction more inside me - more pain...he grunted and shoved and the entire head of his cock was inside me and the pain became so unbearable I cried out "NO - STOP - I CAN'T TAKE IT - IT'S TOO BIG!"

"What did he do? Did he stop?"

"He yelled 'GODDAMMIT' and backed away...he started calling me all kinds of names ending in 'prick tease'...I was this kind of prick tease and that kind of prick tease...I felt terrible - I didn't want to be a prick tease..."

"What happened next?"

"He sat on the sofa still cursing at me...he had thrown a towel over his dick...when I climbed off the bed he pointed at his hard-on and said to me, 'Are you going to leave me like this?'

"What did you say?"

"I went to him and pushed his hands from his dick and took him in my hands. I was going to sit next to him but he said 'NO - the grease from your ass will ruin my couch' so I knelt by his feet and gave him a handjob thru the towel...it only took about five-minutes."

Our hands moved faster and faster on each other. We kissed and I let him slide his tongue in my mouth. I hadn't felt this much excitement in years.

"Tell me something...if he'd asked you to suck his cock, would you have done it?"

The redness on my face gave away my answer.

"Yes, I thought so..."

We were both close. Faster and faster. The pressure in my balls became unbearable.

Two-seconds before we exploded, I said to him, "I was surprised he didn't tell me to suck him."

"...and disappointed, too, right?" he softly added.

"Yes, I guess I was," I admitted.

It had been years since I'd had such a powerful orgasm. The sperm and semen shooting from my prick seemed non-stop. I was vaguely aware he was cumming too.

When our bodies came to rest, my hand was completely covered with his spooge, and he did something that should have made me angry, but it didn't - he took my hand and wiped his cum all over my face.

He then pressed my still slick hand to my mouth and said, "Lick it clean!"

I have no idea why I didn't refuse, or even protest, but I didn't; I simply obeyed his command and tasted a man's cum for the first time in my life.

"Next week, I'm going to cum in your mouth and have you swallow it!" he stated as fact. "It's getting late and I have to get to work early in the morning...be here the same time next week! We'll have dinner then go to our room and I'll give you what you want!"

My head was spinning again. I almost fell over pulling on my clothes. He had stripped off his briefs and was about to climb into bed naked when I took one last look at the manly equipment dangling between his legs.

I guess I stared at it a little too long because I heard him chuckle then say, "Don't worry, you and my boys are going to get intimately acquainted next week!"

My face burned red as I skulked out of the room to the sound of his laughter.

My golf game didn't improve as my headache faded away. In fact, it became worse when I clearly remembered the previous night with Thomas.

I looked at my three playing partners and wondered if they knew what I had done with Thomas.

How could they, it was late! John, take a deep breath and settle down. You're getting paranoid. Sure, you made a mistake, but it was a one-time thing. You'll never see him again so calm down and play the game like you know how before you lose every bet you have.

I managed to salvage some holes on the back nine so my losses weren't too high.

It was a fairly quiet drive home. Seems like all our trips are the same: everyone chatting away on the drive to our destination, but very quiet on the drive home.

I caught myself checking my hand from time-to-time.

It felt like his hard-on had made a permanent impression on my flesh. I swore I could feel its heat and firm texture. In my quiet reverie sitting in the backseat, my prick became semi-erect while I thought about his cock.

There was no way in hell I had any intention of repeating my mistake. It had been forty-years between giving handjobs and I could wait another forty-years before doing it again.

It's not easy being single at my age. The people I meet are curious as to why I never married. I can't remember how many times I've had to use my standard reply.

"Well, you know, before I was forty I lived with three different women..." Which was true.

I would then offer a bemused smile and add, "...for some reason, each relationship lasted right around two-years...after that, something happened and we would break-up...it didn't bother me, I always figured there would be another woman in my life, and then I was suddenly in my mid-forties and for whatever reason, women lost interest in me and I couldn't find anyone..."

That excuse worked for a long time until my friend's wives kept trying to set me up with their single friends.

"You'll really like her, John, she's smart and fun, you should ask her out!"

Instead of making excuses, I would say, "Yeah, maybe I will call her."

I never would and after awhile they stopped trying. I'm sure some of them think I'm gay, but never say anything.

For my part, I don't do or say anything that would make people suspect I wasn't heterosexual. I laugh at all the fag jokes, and have maintained friendships with a couple of women over the years that some people construe as being sexual in nature, with my subtle encouragement.

These days, for the most part, people leave my private life alone. They have come to expect when I go to their parties I will be alone, and they don't joke about me being a life-long bachelor anymore.

Maybe I am a little too sensitive on the subject. Perhaps I do have some interest in men, perhaps I am bi-sexual, but you know, I was brought up in a time when that sort of thing was strictly forbidden. My father would have shunned me forever if he even suspected I was gay.

It's not like I have this overpowering urge to experiment with men. No, not at all. I find most men quite repugnant. Loud, rude, crude and usually not-too-bright. Yes, I like hanging out with the guys, but certainly not for sex.

The following afternoon I heard the ding! of my phone to let me know I had a text message.

I was briefly shaken when I saw it was from Thomas.

It read: "Courage is not the absence of fear but rather the judgment that something is more important than fear; The brave may not live forever but the cautious do not live at all."

- Meg Cabot, The Princess Diaries

"Meet me at the bar on Sunday at 3pm. I'll be the one sporting wood thinking of you! Hahaha..."

I had no intention of meeting with him. Our little one night fling was just that, I wasn't about to compound my mistake by seeing him again.

I had dodged a bullet that none of my friends knew what I had done, and I wasn't going to run the risk of anyone finding out.

Yes, it was very flattering. It had been many years since anyone showed the slightest interest in me; and frankly, I did not have a clue as to why Thomas wanted me. As good-looking and personable as he is, he could get a much younger man than me; a better looking man, a guy who is actually in shape.

The next day I received another text from him: "A coward dies a thousand times before his death, but the valiant taste of death but once."

-William Shakespeare

"John, you are mistaken in your belief if you ignore me I will go away. It only serves to inflame my passion for you.

Aren't you exhausted from living in denial all these years?

See you Sunday!!"

And then the next day: "The trouble is not that I am single and likely to stay single, but that I am lonely and likely to stay lonely."

—Charlotte Brontë

"My heart aches whenever I meet someone who will not allow himself happiness. Life is too short to be ruled by what others think of you. My heart aches when I think of the loneliness you have suffered all these years.

Meet me at the lounge past the buffet. It is quiet, and we can talk there. I am not going to 'out' you to anyone. I will abide by whatever you decide.

After all these years of living a life of lonely desperation, isn't it time to give yourself a chance at freedom?

See you Sunday!!

For three consecutive nights I drank myself into oblivion.

Sure, I usually drink three-four nights a week, but generally I give myself a day or two break. I don't recover from the hangovers as quickly as I did a few years ago.

As late as Saturday night I knew I wouldn't be going to meet with Thomas. No way - no how. It simply was not something I could permit myself to do.

I've lived this way for forty-years. Smoking and drinking too much, I hopefully shouldn't have much more time left on this earth.

Once I'd reached a certain age, life had ceased to be fun. It seemed to me after people retired from work, all they pretty much were doing was killing time waiting around for death.

Some people fool themselves in retirement; they go to the gym three-four times a week to keep in shape with the goal of living as long as they can. I never understood that.

A line from a John Mellencamp song is burned into my memory:

"Life goes on, long after the thrill of living is gone!"

Sunday morning I awoke with one hellacious headache. I gobbled down vitamins and aspirin and sat back in the recliner. I was falling asleep when my phone dinged! Another text from Thomas:

"The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation, and go to the grave with the song still in them."

-Henry David Thoreau

"See you this afternoon!!"

"Of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these, 'It might have been."

- John Greenleaf Whittier

My headache was gone by the time I arrived at the hotel. I left the overnight bag in the car. I wasn't planning on spending the night. I would have the common decency to meet with him in person, and explain why I couldn't be with him.

As I slowly strolled past the buffet, my heart began pounding. Ahead on my left I saw the lounge. I stopped.

John, this is crazy. You can't meet with him. This isn't who you are.

Really? Well then who the hell am I? Would you please give yourself a break and stop beating yourself up! You don't have to do anything you don't want. Just have a drink and listen to him, and then you can go home.

As I rounded the corner, I saw two people sitting at the bar. Squinting into the dimly lit lounge area, I saw him seated in a booth. My heart skipped a beat. I took a deep breath and walked towards him.

A slight smile played across his handsome face when he saw me. I smiled too. I slid into the booth across from him and the bartender quickly came over and took my order.

"A glass of Cabernet, please," I said.

Thomas said to the bartender, "I'm fine for now."

"I wasn't going to come today," I said to Thomas. "I changed my mind a couple hours ago."

"Yes, I figured there was a 50-50 chance of you showing up. What made you change your mind?" he asked.

I waited for the bartender to set the wine before me and leave us alone.

"Ha-ha, you went to so much trouble finding all those quotations I thought the least I could do was come here and talk with you," I said.

Oh my, I thought, there's that beautiful smile of his again!

"Uh, don't get me wrong, I'm not going to spend the night!" I said.

"You're a grown man, you can do whatever you want," he replied.

I spoke softly, "That's the problem, I don't know what I want..."

"John, I'm going to be blunt with you. I think you had fun last Sunday night...it had been a long time since you had physical contact with a human being...feeling the warm flesh of another person is a wonderful thing...it sure as hell beats jerking-off by yourself in the dark, don't you think?" he asked.

I sighed and said, "Yes, it does..."

"How long has it been since you've been with someone?" he asked.

One reason I came to meet with him is I remembered how easy it was talking with him. He's not judgmental. He simply listens and offers advice and encouragement. I have never been able to trust anyone to talk about my secret life until now.

I had been asked this question by one of my friends. I had lied to him. To me, the truth sounds very pathetic.

"I haven't been laid in thirty-years," I said. "In the 90's, I hung out with two-three women, but never did anything with them...well, one time we tried, but I couldn't get it up."

"And why do you think that was?" he asked.

"I want to blame the booze and cigarettes, but I think it goes deeper than that," I replied.

"I am going to guess you masturbate quite frequently, is that true?" he asked.

My face turned red as I nodded in agreement.

"When you masturbate, how long has it been that you fantasize about men instead of women?" he asked.

"Well, I, uh..." I mumbled. How does he know that?

"No, really, how many years has it been?" he asked. His stare was intense.

"You know, after awhile you run out of fantasies with women...I mean, I began to, uh, think about men..." I admitted to him.

"How many years has it been?" he asked again.

"Well, you know, about thirty," I said.

"Okay, let me ask you this: in your gay fantasies, you are the submissive one, aren't you?"

"Well, uh, I...uh, yes," I said softly; again wondering how he guessed it.

"It's okay, John, I understood that after we talked for awhile last week...you were agreeable - eager to please me - very deferential to me. It's simply your nature. You know in our world there are 'tops' and 'bottoms' and your natural inclination is to please the man you are with, it's perfectly normal," he explained.

"I don't know how 'normal' it is..." I said.

"Tell me if this is a true statement or not: in your fantasies you are on your knees sucking a man's cock, or bending over and taking his cock in your ass, am I right?"

God how my face burned red.

"Yes...that is true..."

"The thing is, in your fantasies you have NEVER seen yourself as the 'top' - you have ALWAYS pictured yourself as the 'bottom' - is that true?"

I couldn't hold his gaze. I lowered my eyes and almost whispered, "Yes, that's true."

"John, look at me," he said.

I gazed into his beautiful blue eyes. My hands trembled. My heart was racing a-mile-minute.

He pushed a key card towards me.

"Sweetie, I'm going to make you my 'bottom' tonight...go get your bag from your car and come to the room...you're going to give me a kiss then go to your knees and open my slacks and take out my cock...since it's your first time, I will instruct you on how I want you to suck it...I will cum in your mouth and you will do your best to swallow as much as you can...we will then go have filet's and wine then return to the room - we will get naked and you will do whatever I tell you to do the rest of the night."