I Love Giving Hand Jobs
People say it's a small world when talking about coincidences. I say it's a large globe but a small world. I had a situation several years ago where I had a fantasy I wanted to pursue but I was sure that there was no way I was going to find a way to fulfill it given the checklist of requirements I demanded. (ie Assurance of discretion, assurance that whomever it happened with had as much to lose as I did, assurance of no health issues, etc)
I was in a bad marriage. This was not just a matter of "unreconcilable differences"; this was about being married with someone with Narcissistic Personality Disorder. If you want to know what that hell is, Google it. Most people with it are males, but females have it too. And one last note on that; people with it do not suffer with it, they make everybody around them suffer with it.
Anyway, I got married young and did not see the writing on the wall. Admittedly, I had friends and relatives that did. So, not only was I blind, I was stupid. Anyway, I ended up in a situation where there was absolutely no physical intimacy. One thing I learned was that when testosterone gets boiling for action, it will overlook preferences and go with what is available.
I figured I did not want an affair, a hooker, or complications. I was just tired of satisfying myself...which is never really satisfying. At the time I decided to see what other options were available, AOL and Yahoo were the most popular things out there for anonymous discussions. I was on AOL back when there were chatrooms and "IMs". I started chatting with a guy who seemed to be in the same boat I was in, no physical intimacy in over 3 years. Our upbringing and family situations made it difficult to contemplate divorce (which I eventually did). But he and I had the same curiosities, and the same concerns and fears. He (made up name: Fred) admitted that he had talked with another guy in the same situation and had agreed to meet with him for coffee but Fred had chickened out and not met. We chatted and shared stuff for about 3-4 weeks. We figured we were in the same city because we had met in a chatroom " Our City" marriedm4m.
We eventually considered meeting. I already felt as though I knew this guy from our extended conversations. I was almost scared to meet for fear that he would be different from what I had learned from our discussions but when we started sharing where we lived we found we were not only on the same side of town, but in the same housing subdivision. We shared addresses and found we were two streets separated and only about 15 houses apart. We may have seen each other out walking the dog and not known it. For some reason that felt safer to me, assuming someone in the same development would have a similar profile to mine. We looked at our schedules and I told him my wife and kids would be at her mothers for a weekend about two weeks out. He said that was good; his wife would be at a baby shower that night for an office mate.
I suggested he come to our house. We had a nicely secluded back deck, completely obfuscated from the neighbors until late November, and this would be in late September. He agreed. That night I waited out on our deck. Just after dark he showed up, as agreed, by coming in through the side gate and coming up on the deck. We did recognize each other from being around the neighborhood. He was slightly shorter than me; we looked each other in the eyes and shook hands. It was awkward at first, but we sat and drank ice-tea (neither of us wanted beer...) and talked about the neighborhood and the HOA rules for a while.
The conversation kind of lagged for a few moments. Finally, Fred asked, "So, what were we both hoping would happen tonight?" I replied that I had hoped that the person I had been chatting with was real and not a ghost. He laughed and said he almost chickened out as he was opening the latch to my gate. He said he had this momentary fear that someone would pop out of the bushes with a camera and his face would be on the front page of the paper the next day. I laughed and said it would not be the front page but on the back of the Metro section. We quieted down and I asked him what would be a suitable reward for his having the courage to actually walk through the gate. He reiterated that he had NEVER done anything like this before, even as a youth growing up, which he had already told me online. I had already shared my stories with him about my experiences with a cousin when I was in my teens. I volunteered that since he had no experience and I did, albeit about 30 years earlier, and I was playing host, I would be happy to be the first to extend the hand of friendship to my neighbor.
We both laughed at that and he thanked me. He told me that when he had been in the Army, he had been subjected to a "short-arm inspection" and that had been the only time a guy had touched him. He said it was not a great turn-on to be told to cough while some Doctor held his finger against his sacs. I told him I would try to make it more pleasurable than his Army days.
He took a deep breath, and I held mine, as he stood up, reached down and self-consciously unzipped and unbuttoned his shorts, sliding his shorts and briefs down to his knees where they dropped down to the deck, his "short-arm" was flaccid, circumcised, and hanging (or "wearing" as clothing tailors call it) to the right side. Tiki torches were providing dim but sufficient lighting for us. He was standing, looking down at me as I stared as his manhood. I felt a wave of excitement, almost like the first time a girlfriend pulled her panties down exposing first her hairline, mons, and the juncture beneath to me.
I glanced up and as I asked, "May I..." Fred nodded, interrupting me saying, "Yes!" I reached out and took it between my thumb and forefinger, then slipped my fingers around it, feeling its warmth and softness, closing my hand around it. Immediately, I felt a response and it moved in my hand, the first surge towards an erection that, just by gently fondling its length took less than a minute to swell to full length. Fred did not have a monster cock. It was five inches, judging from my own six. The shape was very similar to mine, not an over bulbous head and stuck straight out from his body. His sacs were clearly larger than my own, though. I shifted in my seat after a few minutes of fondling him so I could place one hand on it and with the other massaged his sacs. I noticed he seemed to naturally arch his back pushing his cock out towards me more and had his hands on his hips holding his t-shirt out of the way in that posture that a lot of guys do (myself included) when someone is playing with their stuff.
After a few minutes of this I could feel his pre-cum dribbling out onto my thumb as I stroked him. I had a small bottle of a lubricant I had bought and reached down for it. He looked disappointed for a moment when he felt my hands leave him but then when he saw what I was doing he breathed out and smiled. The lubricant made a huge difference and marked the turning point from friendly stroking of my neighbor's cock to jerking him off to ejaculation, which, once I stood up, bathed his cock in Wet, and gripped his shaft with one hand and his sacs in the other took all of a minute to bring him off. He moaned and his breathing was sporadic as he felt his spew work its was from deep in his past somewhere, then into his balls. He tried to warn me that he was gonna cum; i didn't care, i wanted to bring him off and he shot a huge rope over my right arm and onto my t-shirt. His second and third shots were almost as strong. If I'd not been in the way it probably would have shot three feet. I slowed my strokes but didn't let go of his pulsing erection as his breathing and heartbeat slowed. I told him to let me know when to stop. After a few moments he nodded and said, "Thanks....wow!"
Yes, as I first started to fondle him and he grew erect I realized that I wanted to feel what it was like to slip my lips over his glans and suck on it. But not tonight.
He sat down and drank some more tea as I went in the house and washed my hands. I brought out a couple of towels. He waited about five or ten minutes and finally said it was amazing how much better it felt when someone else was willing doing that for you. He also said, "Please do not take this the wrong way, Al, but that felt so great it is hard to imagine you've not done to someone else in 30 years. That was amazing." I laughed and said he was right, it always feels better when someone else's hands are on you there. I said the worst hand job I ever had from some of my dates had always been better than the ones I gave myself, but the only cock I'd touched since my cousin was his (Fred's). I told him I only did to him what I imagined would feel good to me.
He looked away for a moment and then turned to me and said, "ok. your turn, buddy" I inwardly breathed a sigh of relief, hoping he would not just get up and leave, and stood up and started fumbling with my belt. He stopped me and said part of his fantasy was to do that himself. I stopped and he put a cushion on the deck and knelt down. I inched closer and he put his hands up and started to undo my belt. Then he unzipped my shorts and gingerly pulled them and my underwear down and out over my cock, lowering it all to the deck and I stepped out. Immediately he put his hand on my cock and started to play with it. He almost seemed in a trance as he started at it, fondling it, feeling it grow in his hand. He was so close I thought he might actually slip his lips over it but he was content to play with me, stroking my length, playing with my balls. He was so close at times I could feel his breath against my cock. Finally, after what seemed like ten minutes he motioned for the Wet and I reached over and handed it to him. He poured out some on my cock and then onto his hand. The difference was startling and again, it turned the corner from getting my cock played with by my neighbor to getting a full-on stroking hand job. He used both hands, moving first one down my length followed immediately by the other in what felt like a continuous motion. I felt my knees start to buckle as my cares slipped out of my loins, into my cock and then all over the front of his shirt. I remember moaning and gasping, but I have no idea how loud i was. After a few moments, when he felt me soften he abruptly stopped and took a towel to clean his hands.
I stumbled back into my chair breathing hard and thanked him. He replied that he was just returning the favor; a very NICE favor. He said he hadn't cum that hard in years. I suggested we didn't have to stop now and we pulled our chairs side-by-side but facing each other. We took turns pouring Wet on our hands and sat and played with each other's second erection.
After we had the other's cock in our hands I mentioned to Fred that for a few moments, when he had first taken my shorts down and leaned towards me, I thought he was going to offer more than his hands. He admitted that he was really tempted but wanted to start slow and see how things went. I admitted that when I first took him in my fingers I wanted to know what it was like to feel it grow under my tongue. I told him, "No offense, but for me, it is not about giving someone named Fred or anyone else a blow job, its about wanting to know what a cock feels like slipping past my lips, under my tongue, growing in my mouth." He said he completely understood. He said he had gone as far as going downtown to the XXX bookstore and buying a cock-shaped dildo to try it but he was sure it was not the same, especially from what he had read and heard from his wife before she ran out of sexual desire.
We sat and played with each other for another 30 minutes or so before we brought each other off a second time. Then we cleaned up and he went back home. I jerked off a third load before I went to bed thinking about what might happen next.
I was in a bad marriage. This was not just a matter of "unreconcilable differences"; this was about being married with someone with Narcissistic Personality Disorder. If you want to know what that hell is, Google it. Most people with it are males, but females have it too. And one last note on that; people with it do not suffer with it, they make everybody around them suffer with it.
Anyway, I got married young and did not see the writing on the wall. Admittedly, I had friends and relatives that did. So, not only was I blind, I was stupid. Anyway, I ended up in a situation where there was absolutely no physical intimacy. One thing I learned was that when testosterone gets boiling for action, it will overlook preferences and go with what is available.
I figured I did not want an affair, a hooker, or complications. I was just tired of satisfying myself...which is never really satisfying. At the time I decided to see what other options were available, AOL and Yahoo were the most popular things out there for anonymous discussions. I was on AOL back when there were chatrooms and "IMs". I started chatting with a guy who seemed to be in the same boat I was in, no physical intimacy in over 3 years. Our upbringing and family situations made it difficult to contemplate divorce (which I eventually did). But he and I had the same curiosities, and the same concerns and fears. He (made up name: Fred) admitted that he had talked with another guy in the same situation and had agreed to meet with him for coffee but Fred had chickened out and not met. We chatted and shared stuff for about 3-4 weeks. We figured we were in the same city because we had met in a chatroom " Our City" marriedm4m.
We eventually considered meeting. I already felt as though I knew this guy from our extended conversations. I was almost scared to meet for fear that he would be different from what I had learned from our discussions but when we started sharing where we lived we found we were not only on the same side of town, but in the same housing subdivision. We shared addresses and found we were two streets separated and only about 15 houses apart. We may have seen each other out walking the dog and not known it. For some reason that felt safer to me, assuming someone in the same development would have a similar profile to mine. We looked at our schedules and I told him my wife and kids would be at her mothers for a weekend about two weeks out. He said that was good; his wife would be at a baby shower that night for an office mate.
I suggested he come to our house. We had a nicely secluded back deck, completely obfuscated from the neighbors until late November, and this would be in late September. He agreed. That night I waited out on our deck. Just after dark he showed up, as agreed, by coming in through the side gate and coming up on the deck. We did recognize each other from being around the neighborhood. He was slightly shorter than me; we looked each other in the eyes and shook hands. It was awkward at first, but we sat and drank ice-tea (neither of us wanted beer...) and talked about the neighborhood and the HOA rules for a while.
The conversation kind of lagged for a few moments. Finally, Fred asked, "So, what were we both hoping would happen tonight?" I replied that I had hoped that the person I had been chatting with was real and not a ghost. He laughed and said he almost chickened out as he was opening the latch to my gate. He said he had this momentary fear that someone would pop out of the bushes with a camera and his face would be on the front page of the paper the next day. I laughed and said it would not be the front page but on the back of the Metro section. We quieted down and I asked him what would be a suitable reward for his having the courage to actually walk through the gate. He reiterated that he had NEVER done anything like this before, even as a youth growing up, which he had already told me online. I had already shared my stories with him about my experiences with a cousin when I was in my teens. I volunteered that since he had no experience and I did, albeit about 30 years earlier, and I was playing host, I would be happy to be the first to extend the hand of friendship to my neighbor.
We both laughed at that and he thanked me. He told me that when he had been in the Army, he had been subjected to a "short-arm inspection" and that had been the only time a guy had touched him. He said it was not a great turn-on to be told to cough while some Doctor held his finger against his sacs. I told him I would try to make it more pleasurable than his Army days.
He took a deep breath, and I held mine, as he stood up, reached down and self-consciously unzipped and unbuttoned his shorts, sliding his shorts and briefs down to his knees where they dropped down to the deck, his "short-arm" was flaccid, circumcised, and hanging (or "wearing" as clothing tailors call it) to the right side. Tiki torches were providing dim but sufficient lighting for us. He was standing, looking down at me as I stared as his manhood. I felt a wave of excitement, almost like the first time a girlfriend pulled her panties down exposing first her hairline, mons, and the juncture beneath to me.
I glanced up and as I asked, "May I..." Fred nodded, interrupting me saying, "Yes!" I reached out and took it between my thumb and forefinger, then slipped my fingers around it, feeling its warmth and softness, closing my hand around it. Immediately, I felt a response and it moved in my hand, the first surge towards an erection that, just by gently fondling its length took less than a minute to swell to full length. Fred did not have a monster cock. It was five inches, judging from my own six. The shape was very similar to mine, not an over bulbous head and stuck straight out from his body. His sacs were clearly larger than my own, though. I shifted in my seat after a few minutes of fondling him so I could place one hand on it and with the other massaged his sacs. I noticed he seemed to naturally arch his back pushing his cock out towards me more and had his hands on his hips holding his t-shirt out of the way in that posture that a lot of guys do (myself included) when someone is playing with their stuff.
After a few minutes of this I could feel his pre-cum dribbling out onto my thumb as I stroked him. I had a small bottle of a lubricant I had bought and reached down for it. He looked disappointed for a moment when he felt my hands leave him but then when he saw what I was doing he breathed out and smiled. The lubricant made a huge difference and marked the turning point from friendly stroking of my neighbor's cock to jerking him off to ejaculation, which, once I stood up, bathed his cock in Wet, and gripped his shaft with one hand and his sacs in the other took all of a minute to bring him off. He moaned and his breathing was sporadic as he felt his spew work its was from deep in his past somewhere, then into his balls. He tried to warn me that he was gonna cum; i didn't care, i wanted to bring him off and he shot a huge rope over my right arm and onto my t-shirt. His second and third shots were almost as strong. If I'd not been in the way it probably would have shot three feet. I slowed my strokes but didn't let go of his pulsing erection as his breathing and heartbeat slowed. I told him to let me know when to stop. After a few moments he nodded and said, "Thanks....wow!"
Yes, as I first started to fondle him and he grew erect I realized that I wanted to feel what it was like to slip my lips over his glans and suck on it. But not tonight.
He sat down and drank some more tea as I went in the house and washed my hands. I brought out a couple of towels. He waited about five or ten minutes and finally said it was amazing how much better it felt when someone else was willing doing that for you. He also said, "Please do not take this the wrong way, Al, but that felt so great it is hard to imagine you've not done to someone else in 30 years. That was amazing." I laughed and said he was right, it always feels better when someone else's hands are on you there. I said the worst hand job I ever had from some of my dates had always been better than the ones I gave myself, but the only cock I'd touched since my cousin was his (Fred's). I told him I only did to him what I imagined would feel good to me.
He looked away for a moment and then turned to me and said, "ok. your turn, buddy" I inwardly breathed a sigh of relief, hoping he would not just get up and leave, and stood up and started fumbling with my belt. He stopped me and said part of his fantasy was to do that himself. I stopped and he put a cushion on the deck and knelt down. I inched closer and he put his hands up and started to undo my belt. Then he unzipped my shorts and gingerly pulled them and my underwear down and out over my cock, lowering it all to the deck and I stepped out. Immediately he put his hand on my cock and started to play with it. He almost seemed in a trance as he started at it, fondling it, feeling it grow in his hand. He was so close I thought he might actually slip his lips over it but he was content to play with me, stroking my length, playing with my balls. He was so close at times I could feel his breath against my cock. Finally, after what seemed like ten minutes he motioned for the Wet and I reached over and handed it to him. He poured out some on my cock and then onto his hand. The difference was startling and again, it turned the corner from getting my cock played with by my neighbor to getting a full-on stroking hand job. He used both hands, moving first one down my length followed immediately by the other in what felt like a continuous motion. I felt my knees start to buckle as my cares slipped out of my loins, into my cock and then all over the front of his shirt. I remember moaning and gasping, but I have no idea how loud i was. After a few moments, when he felt me soften he abruptly stopped and took a towel to clean his hands.
I stumbled back into my chair breathing hard and thanked him. He replied that he was just returning the favor; a very NICE favor. He said he hadn't cum that hard in years. I suggested we didn't have to stop now and we pulled our chairs side-by-side but facing each other. We took turns pouring Wet on our hands and sat and played with each other's second erection.
After we had the other's cock in our hands I mentioned to Fred that for a few moments, when he had first taken my shorts down and leaned towards me, I thought he was going to offer more than his hands. He admitted that he was really tempted but wanted to start slow and see how things went. I admitted that when I first took him in my fingers I wanted to know what it was like to feel it grow under my tongue. I told him, "No offense, but for me, it is not about giving someone named Fred or anyone else a blow job, its about wanting to know what a cock feels like slipping past my lips, under my tongue, growing in my mouth." He said he completely understood. He said he had gone as far as going downtown to the XXX bookstore and buying a cock-shaped dildo to try it but he was sure it was not the same, especially from what he had read and heard from his wife before she ran out of sexual desire.
We sat and played with each other for another 30 minutes or so before we brought each other off a second time. Then we cleaned up and he went back home. I jerked off a third load before I went to bed thinking about what might happen next.
