A friend from childhood who had been living in Los Angeles for about four years encouraged me to move there because getting a job was a sure thing. He assured me that I would be working in a matter of days, that he could talk to his boss and get me a job where he worked, a reputable home builder, and since I had worked in construction during summers, it was a sure thing; that I could crash at his apartment until I could get my own. I had just turned nineteen when I packed my bags and headed west.
He wasn't lying. We arrived Saturday night. Monday morning, he took me to his boss, and after a brief interview and my friend vouching for me, I started working the same day. In a matter of weeks, I was able to get my own place: a mother-in-law apartment in the back of a house that belong to a genuinely nice lady. I had been living there less than a month when the lady asked me if I wanted to buy an older truck.
"But it's in particularly good condition. It belongs to my son and he took good care of it. You can buy in payments if you don't have the whole amount." She added.
Sight unseen, I made the deal.
One Saturday morning I was washing my "new" truck when and older gentleman who lived few houses down approached me. "Hi there, are you Mrs. Martin's tenant? She was telling me about you."
And that's how it started, the seduction of a teenager by a 40-year-old man.
I honestly believe that no one is seduced if he doesn't want to be seduced. I say this because even though I grew up straight, I had always fantasized about having sex with an older man. When a girlfriend gave me a blowjob, I envied her, because I wanted to feel what she was feeling having a cock in her mouth and swallowing sperm. When I watched porn with my girlfriend, it was always straight porn, but when I watched porn by myself, it was always male-to-male action. Watching a man suck a big cock always gave me a hardon.
The older gentleman and I talked for about an hour and a half. He told me his story and I told him mine. His father, mother and he immigrated from South America when he was only six years old. He studied hard, learned English, assimilated, went to Uni, and became an accountant and eventually a CPA. He never married, bought the house he lived in as soon as he could afford it and had lived there ever since. He was courteous, respectful, and ruggedly handsome, with salt and pepper hair that made his tan look golden. We ended the conversation with him inviting me to his house for dinner that night. Since I didn't have a date with my girlfriend, I said yes. I accepted his invitation because I believed him to be a good person. My landlord had told me nothing but good things about him.
From where I sat, dinner was the beginning of a good friendship. Since he was open and truthful with me, I felt comfortable sharing as much or more than he shared with me. The conversation was like talking to an old friend. I felt extremely comfortable in his presence. He didn't treat me like a "kid," rather, like an equal. Something no older person that I had known up to that moment had given me. He asked me serious questions and when I answered, he didn't try to tell me what would've been better for me instead of what I said I did. He didn't judge. He just listened and understood. The time that I spent in his house that night seemed ephemeral; I wished I could've stayed longer. When I went to sleep that night and jerked off, the older men I had always fantasized about now had a definite face: Diego's. Too bad he didn't see me that way... Or did he?
We started hanging out frequently. When we stayed home, it was mostly in his house. Only two times in the next three months did we spend the evening in my apartment. During those three months we "went out" many times, and he took me to many places of interest, such as fine restaurants, the movies, Playa del Rey, Universal Studios, Griffith Observatory which is very close to the street we lived on, museums, and such. And after every outing, when I went home alone and jerked off, I always fantasized about him. But I never showed any interest in him other than being a friend. He did the same with me. The thing was that every time we went somewhere, he was the leader, the alpha man, the one in charge, the one who wouldn't let foot the bill, not even go Dutch. And I always followed his lead.
Those three months after we met were nothing but foreplay. Everything he did was to get me ready. Make sure that I was what he wanted, a young lover who would go the distance with him, not just a one-night stand. He wanted a relationship, someone to take care of, someone submissive. He courted me for three months, he flirted subtlety, he teased me by keeping the carrot in front of me. When he touched me, it was always soft and tender. When he talked to me, he always looked me in the eyes, and he always made sure I had what I wanted. One time he surprised me with a gift for my apartment, a painting of a lion to hang on the wall.
And after three months of foreplay, he just took me.
One night we were playing chess in his apartment and he asked me about my girlfriend. I told him that we hardly saw each other anymore. She was too busy getting ready for college. I told him that in essence, we were not dating any longer.
"And how do you feel about it?" he asked. I said that we both knew one day she go away and that it would be the end.
"I called her my girlfriend, but in reality, we were just enjoying each other's company while she was still in L.A." I said. "Once she goes away, we will never see each other again."
"It's OK," he said, "I'm here for you." And with that, he moved his queen to G6 and said, "Check mate." It was somewhat erotic how he could assert his dominance by simply moving a piece on a chess board and declare himself a winner without being pretentious.
Then he looked at me deeply in the eyes and said:
