It was a mid-February evening and a major snowstorm was hitting the Montreal area. It is the sort of evening one should wisely remain at home to cuddle in front of a fire with someone special. It certainly was not a night to go into town.
I still do not know what exactly compelled me to want to leave the comfort of my apartment. Maybe it was the fact that I was very lonely and felt strongly that I had to do something about it. In any event, I shaved, showered, douched and got dressed. I decided to wear blue jeans and a fuzzy white angora turtleneck sweater. Wearing fur or angora always makes me feel sexy and I privately enjoy the sensuousness of its caress on my skin and it never fails to arouse my very sensitive nipples. Then I laced my boots, zipped up my Kanuk winter parka and put on my fur lined aviator hat to keep my cropped head warm. I headed out.
The snow had started to fall more heavily and the wind was picking up. Stopping in my tracks, I began to reconsider my decision to go out. After a short pause, I kicked myself for wanting to wimp out again. I took a deep breath feeling the cold air fill my lungs and tightly pulled the fur trimmed hood of my parka on my head to shield my face from the blowing snow. Eventually, I found a taxi willing to drive me to the "Village".
Being a week night and the winter storm forecast, the streets were deserted and the bar I stopped in was fairly quiet. It was my first time in that establishment and I was a bit nervous as it catered exclusively to an older homosexual clientèle. Again, I had to remind myself why I was there. I was 50 years old and the New Year caused me to reflect on my desperate need to explore my sensibilities and maybe, just maybe, meet that special someone, my man. Until recently, I had lived with a much younger woman while engaging in a monogamous affair with an older male lover. After many years, he had decided to end it a few years previously. Depressed and stifled, I later found a way to cowardly drive the woman away from me.
As time passed, I was feeling more wanting. I had gradually come to terms with my sexuality, accepting that I preferred a man's sexual companionship. I needed a confidant, a sensual and passionate lover. A man to make me feel desired, cause me to drop my inhibitions and allow my sexuality to freely blossom. That night, without much hope, I left the comfort and security of my apartment wishing that this person would find me.
Sitting tensely in a corner booth leafing a free local gay publication, I attracted some curious glances from a few patrons but, wrapped up in my shyness, I did not acknowledge anyone's interest. After almost an hour, I was already finishing my third inferior scotch and was feeling a bit light headed. Congratulating myself for my effort, I decided to retreat to the safety of my home. I started to slide out of my booth, when there, standing in my path, was a tall and handsome man that I had failed to notice. Our eyes met, held their gaze, while he smiled warmly... I froze.
"Hello" he said, his voice melodic and deep. Like a fool, I looked around as if to make sure he was talking to me.
"Yes, I'm talking to you," he said. "I hope you're not planning on leaving just yet."
My stomach knotted up and I mumbled something about having to go before the snow would make it impossible to find a taxi.
"Nonsense." he said sitting down and blocking my path. "I'm sure it'll still be fine by the time we finish getting acquainted over a drink."
I looked at him a bit more closely. He was wearing a stylish business suit which flattered his masculine built. He was clean shaven and wore his graying hair short. His eyes were very dark and his look was very intense. But it was his lips that captivated me, they were full somewhat pouting with distinctive corners that curved slightly upward. They were the most perfect and sexy lips that I had ever seen on a man.
I was immediately smittened by him for some reason. I felt flummoxed in his presence and realized then that he was speaking to me again.
"I'm sorry, what did you say?", I asked.
"I said that looking at you sitting alone here intrigued me. I felt a connection, an urge if you like, to join you." Then, as an afterthought, he added: "If you allow me of course."
I was a bit unnerved by his forwardness and began to refuse "Maybe some other time when..."
"Please." he interrupted while putting his hand on my shoulder. "I think that leaving now would be a mistake that would cause you to forever wonder what may have been. You and I both know that you are sitting here hoping for the right man to come along to seduce you. Now that you have dispensed with the pretense of wanting to refuse my offer, we can forego any further debate on the matter as it would only make it more embarrassing for you." After pausing he added: "I know what you need."
I was in turmoil. This stranger, this man, had seen right through me. Feigning indifference, I relinquished: "OK, just one drink."
He signaled for the waiter, asked what I was drinking and ordered us each a scotch... doubles.
Turning his attention back to me, he caught me staring at him and smiled. "Do you like what you see?" he said more than asked. Without pausing, he extended his hand out to me. "My name is Christopher but please call me Chris." he said his grip totally masculine.
"Ah... yeah... I do" I replied feeling myself turning red; I couldn't believe what I just said.
"You're very cute when you blush."
While I tried to compose myself, he added: "By the way, I really love your angora sweater. It's very sensual. Men aren't usually audacious enough to wear it and I'm glad that you do as it makes you look terribly sexy, almost feminine and yet not. I sense that there lingers an interesting duality under your very masculine façade. I find that quite endearing." he said still holding my hand in his. "And you are?..." he asked.
"André," I said and glanced down at my hand still held in his.
"I'm very pleased to meet you, André." he said releasing my hand.
Without saying a word, he placed his hand on the inside of my thigh. A moment later he gently began stroking while holding my gaze until I lowered my eyes to stare at my glass of scotch.
After about a minute he ventured: "You must be a bottom."
His statement really startled me, and I turned to look at him but before I could think of a reply he said, "It's not my intention to be deprecating, in fact I'm quite pleased. The reason I know that you're a bottom is that since I began caressing your thigh, you've made no attempt to stop me."
He was right; I had made no effort to stop him. He went on to say that I should stop, and correct him when what he said was incorrect. He continued... "I bet that you're longing to sexually submit to a man."
I sat there, speechless, as he got more assertive and asked me if I wanted to touch his cock. Before I could answer, he took my hand and placed it directly on his manhood, and just like his caress of my thigh; I said nothing.
Instinctively, I began stroking the length of his cock feeling it grow with every stroke. Soon he had a full raging hard on, as I continued to coddle his manhood through his dress pants.
His penis felt very large and I began to picture it in my mouth and fucking my ass. I was mesmerized while he just stayed there smiling and looking like he was reading my mind, because, before long he said:
