North Vacant Lot
A gay sexual journey leaving the virtual world.
By Drew David Marshal
"And the Day Came When the Risk to Remain Tight In a Bud Was More Painful Than the Risk It Took to Blossom." -- Anais Nin.
"Do you have another card?" Ken the cashier asked me. "No this is the only one", I said with mounting frustration. I tried it again and then a third time, no luck. The college aged boy bagging my groceries said, "Hold on, mind if I try?"
"Please do, here," I handed him my bank card. He squeezed in close to me and I could smell his hair. It smelled like the shampoo I use. He twisted the machine and pulled it a little. Just then the screen asked me for my PIN.
"Oh man, thanks. I was not looking forward to putting my groceries back and running to the bank for cash." I saw his name tag and said, "Jason, how did you get the magic hands?"
"I'm good with machines, not so good with people."
He went back to his precise bagging maneuvers. I said, "You sound like me, I've been an engineer all my life."
He looked at me for a moment, "I'm at UCLA now for software engineering. Guess you would call me a nerd." He was a cute guy, rather effeminate, and made me blush. He reminded me of my first gay encounter during my freshman year in college.
Pushing the grocery cart to my car, I reminisced about Ritchie. He was fair skinned, blonde and wasn't a big guy. A few pounds less and he could have been a jockey. We met in political science class. He really understood the subject and I really hated it. I asked him to help me.
We got together one Saturday in my dorm, when my roommate was away for the weekend. He brought over some pot, and we attempted to do some studying. Pot makes me horny and apparently it made Ritchie horny too. He touched my shoulder and gave me that fuck-me look. I put Disraeli Gears by Cream on the stereo, took another bong hit and started to get naked, so did Ritchie. We just masturbated together and came all over our bellies.
A few weeks later, when my roommate went home for the weekend, I invited Ritchie over. He wanted to try what he called, "corn holing." He squatted over my cock and tried to take it in his ass. We missed the part where we use lube. He ended up just sitting on my lap with no penetration. I reached around and jerked him off. I remember how his cock felt in my hand and his musky smell as he got closer to coming. I couldn't stop running my hands around his naturally hairless hips and ass. That was our last encounter, he dropped out of college soon after and I never saw him again. Over the years I masturbated thinking about Ritchie's cock, his smell, his smooth ass, hips, and legs.
Since then, my life was heterosexual actions with homosexual dreams. I am now nearing retirement and single once again since my wife of 30 years passed away.
Unloading my groceries, I felt the urge to jerk off with some anonymous cock on my computer. I have done that many times before. I got naked, got out my cock ring, coconut oil and put a towel down on the chair. The anticipation used to be more exciting. I like watching athletic bodies, light hair, and big cocks adorned with rings. Most guys don't show their face and that used to be fine, even preferred, but lately I try to find guys that do. Especially when they cum. The look of ecstasy is extremely exciting.
I started my camera and angled it down to not show my face. I feel guilty because it doesn't seem equitable. I scrutinized my body on cam. Not bad for my age. Years of cycling has kept me muscled but slim, like a long-distance runner. I keep my legs shaved for the bike and while I'm at it I shave my cock, balls, and ass. I love the feel of my smooth skin with no hair to dull the sensation. I spread the coconut oil all over me. My hands glide over my body, leaving only sexual titillation below.
A message came in from Femboy55, "You have a hot body."
"Thanks," I replied.