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A story true or false - may you the reader decide......
For a period although the craving was strong the phone chartline did not provide any likely encounters. That is until one Saturday afternoon when a conversation with Peter proved hopeful. I made my way to the outlying well-to-do district where his address was. Once I got there late in the afternoon I found it to be a small cottage style house, in need of some repair with ivy around the wall and front door. I buzzed the entryphone and Peter said it was already open. To my surprise he met me in the hallway and was already in a dark red silken brocade housecoat, tied at the waist and nothing else. Peter was a bit shorter than me, slim build with a neat silver grey beard and hairstyle. He showed me to the kitchen downstairs and offered a glass of wine. After a quick kiss we sat at the kitchen table talking awhile and I think he was assessing where he wanted to go. To move things along I asked if I could use the bathroom and he seemed to make his mind up as he suggested we go upstairs. I saw a number of artbooks and books on theatre topics so guessed that was his area. Anyway he pointed to the bathroom and said there was a bathrobe I could change into.
After changing into the white bathrobe I went to the bedroom. Opening the door I noticed it was quite old style with a black cornice around the ceiling and red walls - it almost seemed like a bordello! The walls had mirrors on certain parts of the wall and the heavy curtains were closed with the only lighting from some candles on a shelf giving a subdued light. Peter moved towards me and I could see his uncut cock was poking out of the gap in his bathrobe. He started kissing me, more passionately than in the kitchen reaching down for the tie on the bathrobe and letting it fall to the ground. As he kissed me he run his hands over my body with one stroking my raw exposed buttock. By the bed I saw a black lacquered tray with an assortment of various rubber sex toys, condoms, lubes and glass poppers bottles - it was like an artist's palate I supposed and gave a hint of what was to come.
Shedding his robe he drew me to the edge of the bed and we continued French kissing and touching as operatic music gently played in the background. This seemed to get him even more excited and he laid me down and knelt over me - his cock close to my lips. I felt his hand on my cock and he started rubbing - there was some heat there and I thought maybe he had a warming lubricant applied as he pushed his cock into my willing lips. As he did so he took some poppers and I smelt the pungent odour but didn't try myself. He reached out and pushed a pillow under my buttocks and then switched positions to put his head between my legs sucking on my cock which was very aroused. He had some lube in a packet and gently played with the sexhole as he sucked. I took in the atmosphere, the music, the soft lighting and the erotic action. As there was a small break in the music he moved to the tray and unrolled a condom on his stiff shaft - I guess another act was to commence. He then bent my legs back with my buttocks firmly on the pillow and my sexhole exposed I presume. He then rested my thighs on his as he knelt before me and pushed his cock in slowly and relentlessly. He then started his strokes increasing the rhythm in sympathy with the music. His eyes closed he did not seek to change position but varied the style of his movements - sometimes using round movements. sometimes short strokes followed by a long urgent thrust as deep as possible.
Again another break in the movement and the music and although he had not cum he changed position taking the condom off as he took more poppers. I wondered what would happen next as he curled his pelvis over my head and again held my cock and started sucking it. He directed his cock to my lips again and then thrust it as deep into my mouth as it would go thrusting urgently. With a finger pushed in my sexhole it wasn't long before I felt I would orgasm but jsut before that I sensed his cock twitching and tasted several salty spurts. That pushed me over the edge and I felt myself emptying into his mouth.
After cleaning up we shared another glass of wine in the kitchen before I departed. He seemed to enjoy the performance. As I left his house it was already dark and evening - I had lost all sense of time as I made my way to the station; feeling very flustered, satisfied and a bit drunk. I never did hear anymore from him.