+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
When I Lost _ PART ONE
THE USUAL WARNINGS APPLY TO THIS TALE.
Please let me know if you are enjoying this! CONTACT sharper@inorbit.com WITH FEEDBACK :-)
SEARCH NIFTY FOR sharper@inorbit.com or this link www.bit.ly/1VSsqpI TO READ OTHER TALES BY ME.
REMEMBER TO MAKE YOUR DONATION TO WWW.NIFTY.ORG !!
http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
When I Lost _ PART ONE
When I lost the use of my phone I really believed that my whole life has become a disaster. When I got it back (I mean of course, I bought a new phone and installed the backup) the first thing I did was get back on GayRomeo to see what was around. I quickly found a candidate nearby, and sent a Hi. No response, so I sent another Hi. Nothing.
I don't like being ignored -Who does? - and I was excited by the profile.
Jack was definitely interested.
The blurb said, blonde, young (close to my age), sub, open-minded; interests film and "experimental art" (whatever that meant). So: local, fuckable, up for it, and possibly quite intelligent - stupid subs wear me thin.
The picture was of a smooth, narrow, hard torso, cut off at the neck and above the groin. That allowed me to imagine an ideal pair of blue eyes burning with willingness and expectation, a smooth, pale face, and ample, available genitalia.
I wondered if I had seen this one about in the locality.
I never heard anything back.
•
That was some time ago. I'd moved on. I never did get a response. It's not annoying; it's just how things go. The profile disappeared and I did other things. The weather warmed up. I went to the park; you can meet people there.
Like once I met this guy, really into me though I wasn't attracted to him. He followed me through the reed bed by the lake - there's lots of paths cut through the reed bed, mainly guys cruising. I got to the edge of the lake and stood for a moment, surveying the water. The sky was orange and it reflected off the lake dramatically through the tall dark trees. Ducks spell-checked its surface. Their quacking was the only noise until I heard some footsteps behind me. I turned. When I saw who it was - the guy who'd been following me - I looked back at the water and ignored him, though I also knew that I'd soon have him suck me off. No harm.
He stood behind me for some time, but gradually, step by step, he was standing next to me on the waters edge and trying to get me to talk; little comments about the view and the weather. I'd agree with whatever he said. Eventually I grabbed his arm and pulled him towards me. Close to my eyes. In the fading light I could see he had the broad fleshy looks of an east-European. I snogged him for a bit, pressing his face into mine with my palms spread across the tiny clipped hairs of his scalp and his small rubbery ears.
He put his arms around me and held me in a hungry grateful bear hug. His fingers dug into my back with the grip mountaineers use to save their lives. His mouth opened and gave me his tongue. His unshaven skin of sharp spikes cut into my lips. His need was so helplessly uncontrived. It turned me on that he wanted it. I stroked his head and felt his shoulders. He was quite fit. I reached down and groped his hard arse. I pushed my hips forward and his firm penis pressed against the thick ridge of my own.
Jack was interested.
He immediately knelt in the mud when gently pushed, kissing the lump of my jeans briefly. I undid the fly and let it out; Jack jumped in his face. The guy pulled back to catch the end between his lips, and then he was on it and took it to the root in one go, expertly regulating his breath to accommodate Jack's stiff curved neck. I could press its head deep down his throat, and hold it there, enjoying the feel of Jack's pulse inside him. When I let him off, he gasped, and kissed Jack's cummy tip, and dived again, letting me force deep as my Jack's length. His jaw slacked and then he was breathless as I pulled Jack's rippled veins across his sensitive, supple lips. The more I gave him of Jack, the more he wanted of Jack. That's often the way. As the cum built in my nuts he looked into my eyes, willing me to release my load and he maintained that eye contact whilst I was spurting it into him, and then he milked the last of it. He consumed it all.
As night fell I returned to my place by myself, wishing I'd fucked the cunt.
•
Once I met a guy who wanted to come back with me. He was about my height and build and really good looking. Honey-coloured hair.
Jack was definitely interested.
I really wanted to spend some time fucking this one. I told him I lived nearby and asked if he wanted to come back. He said ok. On the way I asked him to tell me something about himself. He said he was unemployed. I asked him what his trade was and he said labouring. It surprised me; he seemed intelligent. When I asked what was he doing that for? he said it paid the rent.
Back at my place I quickly got him stripped. He had a great body - strong but not well defined; it came from hard physical work and an easy, indulgent lifestyle of big breakfasts and boozy pub nights.
Despite this common-man masculinity he loved my Jack up it. He loved being on his back and submitting, or kneeling up whilst I held him, one arm round his neck, and jabbed it in him from behind, or on his face, pounding him with it.
For a night - during which my hardon could come and go, but ended with a terrific orgasm that left me completely content for a few hours - until the morning - when I had him all over breakfast - he came repeatedly like a well that keeps on refilling, always wanting it inside and loving to be the bottom. Jack loves that kind of fag.
He was the kind of guy called everyone 'Mate' or 'Fella' or 'Buddy'. As he left in the morning he grabbed my face to kiss me and seemed all soft and grateful. "Nice one Fella," he said and walked away.
No phone number.
•
Pity about that, but sometimes you say you'll meet and regret it: There was this other guy liked being dominated, did as he was told, servile natured and eager to please. He'd cook and make cups of tea. He liked dusting, it seems. Cleaned up the place like new. When he said he'd like do it again, I saw the advantages. All I did was fuck him, cum on his face, and let him bring me food. Jack was fine, so I gave my number and he phoned later the same day! Asked to visit.
Immediately I wasn't keen. But I said yes and so started a week of constant service and constant fucking like I really wasn't used to, though Jack was happy. I thought it might be good: I could do as I pleased, exactly what I pleased. When I wanted a piss I'd piss into him. He liked that. I'd shower and he would sponge me in thick lather, dwelling on my genitals lovingly pulling through thick suddy fingers until Jack got hard. He'd rub his face in it, playfully fingering my anus with his soapy hands.
But I got annoyed with all the fuss and then I got irritated and abusive and then I started hurting him. He liked that. In the end I kicked him out and he thought it was a turn on. When I broke off all contact I knew that hurt him more than he deserved.
What can I say? That's just how it is.
When I look in the mirror, I see, myself. I don't see what you see; I see myself. So I don't know what turns you on or turns you off about me, cs I'm just me and that's that. So if you want me then that's ok and if you don't want me then that's ok too; just don't expect me to go to loads of trouble to be whatever it is you want.
It's like this, I take a selfie for my profile: I can't lie about it. That's me. That's my body. That's Jack. Take it or leave it. Just don't fuck me around.
Then I saw it.
Blonde catching the sunlight. Then I saw it.
It was wearing a red-black check-pattern cap, a loose white tee over its narrow torso - shoulder blades stuck sharply through; skinny-muscled arms; tight black jeans nipping firm narrow buttocks, and thin but strong legs; pale grey plimsoles.
Jack was up in a flash.
This was it! Leaving a door just a few down from my own building! And I was suddenly, immediately, convinced that this was the guy from Romeo. The one who had blanked me. The one with the naked torso shot and "experimental film" interests. Ludicrous, I know.
It crossed the road with a glance to the traffic - like it was towards some appointment; it was nearly running round the moving cars. I watched it cross the road and disappear down a side street.
What could I do?
I dodged some cars myself and followed but when I was in the street it was completely empty. I ran down towards the next junction. Nothing. Left. Right. Nothing.
Then I saw it, inside a shop. Through the plate glass window I saw my reflection superimposed over that of my target, browsing sandwiches. I went inside and simply grabbed it, grabbed its arm. You see, I already felt as if I owned it. Ludicrous.
The instinctive thing is to pull away. It didn't pull away. It calmly looked at me and, irritably, said, "Mate?"
I felt its arm flex under my grip.
•
I have a desire to be romantically involved with another human being. Don't you? I'd like to be passionately ... wanted, by another human being. Wouldn't you? I'd like to be adored, trusted, listened to, argued with, held, by, another human being. Wouldn't you? As I held its arm I realised that I had acted foolishly, ludicrously, that all the desperation and loneliness in my life had produced this pure moment of stupidity, and yet I did not let go. I held on to its arm and let the explosive beauty of it seep into my fingertips, like I was stealing something by the sheer power of my will alone, from the universe.
The bicep was firm and smooth, fit but not over-worked. As I looked at it I could see the torso beneath the shirt, the firm skin.
"Mate?", it said, and looked at me with pale, steel pale eyes.
•
Increasingly as I age I am talking about the future in terms of the past - worrying about what is going to happen based upon what I have learned or witnessed. It was different when I was younger: I'd judge the past using half-formed idealisations of the future. This means that I would see the past in terms of an unstoppable progress. I now see the past more clearly and cannot derive a trajectory going forward. In short, I despair.
Though in fact of a very similar age, I felt towards this beautiful object a superior wisdom and authority much as you might feel towards a kid. I also felt that strange inferiority and insecurity you feel when confronted by the naive enthusiasm and simplistic trust of young and inexperienced people. As you age you come to place your hopes in the uncanny ability of the young merely to survive difficulty, and the uncertainty of experience leads you to abdicate in favour of their naive decisiveness.
Suddenly unable to account for my actions, afraid of my own behaviour, I let go of its arm and begged forgiveness.
"I thought you were someone else," I said.
It rubbed its limb, now hurting where my fingers had been pinching it.
"Yeh, well I'm not someone else," it said. "Jesus! You hurt my arm."
"Sorry. I didn't mean to."
It rubbed its arm some more and looked at me resentfully. "You shouldn't just grab people like that."
Jack was intense, painfully intense.
It had a pristine pale beauty you see in retouched photos for perfume, like a woman, seductive, vulnerable and trusting, but the unmistakably masculine shape of resilience, athleticism, defiance, and assertion. It's large pale eyes looked at me angrily from beneath a large pale fringe and the peak of its cap; its hair stuck out at the sides over pale ears the pink lobes of which were studded with two tiny black jewels each.
"I'm so sorry," I said, "it's just that you look just like someone I..." - like no one else on Earth I'd ever set eyes on - "I'm sorry."
"Like you said," it said, irritated.
Jack was super-interested.
•
When I find a guy I intend to give Jack, it is common for me to be as charming and complimentary as I need to be in order to gain its trust and interest - but no more. There's no need to go overboard. Submissive guys need to be confident that they are in strong and demanding hands. More than anything, they want to feel safe. Not safe from danger, but safe in the presence of a demanding man. Safe in the knowledge that the decisions are going to be easy, if there are to be any decisions. So first of all, I go easy.
Then I go hard.
It's a game.
I think I learned this way back, real early, when I was at uni and I'd got this guy back to my room and I had him on my bed. He was just lying there looking at the ceiling. I was a bit nervous (though he didn't seem to be) so I decided to put on some music. I don't know why. So I put on Imagine, by John Lennon. I don't know what I was thinking. It was ludicrous.
Jack wasn't involved in that decision.
It took a few seconds for the famous mournful piano intro to become audible, but the moment he heard it this guy sort of groaned like he'd found a stain on a clean sheet, and shouted, "Turn that shit off! What the fuck is that?"
So I turned it off, feeling foolish; well, I guess it wasn't that serious. He kind of laughed, but I wasn't feeling very confident. I stood there awkwardly while he just stared at the ceiling again.
"So, are you going to undress?" he said at last.
I didn't answer. I suppose I was waiting for some kind of ... I don't know ... foreplay? Well I learned a few things about that later, but I hadn't learned them then and as far as I could see this was all about my Jack fucking his Jill. So I started to undress. I unbuttoned my shirt, but left it on. I undid my trousers, but didn't lower them. I pulled out Jack; flipped out, Jack lolled to one side. I looked up; he was watching Jack, staring at Jack.
I guess I knew I had his attention, because then I said a bit more confidently, "You wanna undress?" - but less of a question.
He had propped himself up on his elbows. He was quiet, but now he sat up in the edge of the bed. He pulled off his tee and bent forward to remove his trainers, displaying a back of spotty white skin. His vertebrae stuck up like little mountains. He put his socks into his trainers, like a swimmer would, and then he stood to remove his jeans. He had skinny legs. Boney hips. He was skinny generally. Boney. He took his briefs off; dark bushy student pubes. Now he was standing up; so was his dick.
Jack was sticking right out, and kicked with my pulse. Ka-boom. Ka-boom.
There wasn't much space in my tiny student digs, so that when he stood he wasn't far from me. He wasn't far from Jack - by now pointing straight out at him. The pink end was starting to emerge. He reached out his hand sheepishly and grabbed it and suddenly he was holding it, squeezing it and sliding the skin up and down the solid core. I liked the feel of his hand as he got used to holding it, and I let him get used to being in its grip.
He was shy now, uncertain of what was next. His breathing had become imperceptibly shallow. He wasn't looking at it; he was looking down towards an indeterminate point on my chest. His narrow shoulders swayed slightly from side to side as his arm moved, hand massaging Jack. Jack was very happy. Then he lifted his other hand, his left hand, and parted the halves of my shirt to touch the hairs on my chest. He pressed his hand against me like my chest was a door leading to ssomething, like he wanted to open it.
I was glad I'd switched the John Lennon off; that soundtrack would have made this impossible.
Jack agreed, I could tell.
It was difficult and easy to tell him to lie down on the bed, on his back: I was enjoying the moment. He was close to me now and incredibly excited. I wanted it to last, but I wanted to fuck the living breath out of his tight preppy cunt. I wanted to split him in half.
Imagine.
He lay down on his back and raised and spread his legs like a seasoned whore. It was funny how he'd changed so much in just a few seconds. From being bolshie, demanding and indifferent, he had gone to pointing his ripe red sphincter at me and waiting for me to take it, like a dog waits to be touched.
Somehow, I knew he wasn't ready. I knew he thought he was ready. I knew he thought he wanted it more than anything he'd ever known. But I also knew he'd scream when I did it - it was a matter of physics (I was studying physics): Friction, velocity, relative dimensions... All that. Jack needed some lube. I churned my mouth and found a big gob of spit which I let drop, bang, onto his anus. I touched the hit with my finger and rubbed it in. He gasped and started playing with himself.
I put another gob on top of Jack and rubbed it round the tip, stretching the foreskin clear of the nob, going careful not to stimulate it too much. I was that close I swear I...
He was panting. I leaned in and put the tip against him. He whimpered like a girl as I gave it to him. Not too slow; I didn't want him to have time to resist.
It's easy if you try.
Come to think of it, I think I forced it in pretty quick; I wasn't thinking. I grabbed his ankles and forced it with a big push. He was relaxed for about a tenth of a second and then seized up, but I'm not one of those apologetic fucks, like, "oohh is it hurting? oohh are you ok? oohh shall I stop?" I've never been like that - it's instinctual. I worked it up him pretty fast and then put all my weight into punching it further. I was vaguely aware of him squealing and wriggling and pushing against me. He'd let go of his thing and was hyperventilating like a great train. But then he grabbed hold of me and it was like he tried to pull me in. And then he was pressing his arms and palms down on the bed and his legs were getting impossibly spread, out and up; his feet seemed far away, and I could feel him loosening and opening and then gripping and then loving my Jack, with all the strength of his backside, and he was looking at me like he wanted my Jack forever up him. He was such a tart.
When I'd finished fucking him every which way I finally threw him into his back again and shot my load. When I pulled out my milk was dribbling out too. I dipped my fingers in it and just fed it to him. He wanked himself off just sucking on my fingertips like a tit. He was so incredibly happy after that.
From then on he used to obsess about my Jack. He'd grab it in public and when we were alone he'd let me fuck his neck or fuck his hole. He just loved it. He was grateful.
So there you go.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
END OF When I Lost _ PART ONE