I was sitting in Stumpy's place, sipping on my lite beer at the bar when I felt a body press against my back and a hand on my right shoulder. The other hand slipped up under my shirttail (I always wear a square tail sport shirt with the tails hanging out.) and found my left nipple.
I almost jumped out of my skin, but of course I didn't want to miss a chance at what could be a sexual opportunity, any kind of chance.
When you're in your eighties and have a dick that absolutely refuses to get hard any more, sex is pretty scarce. My wife had passed away a year before, after 60 wonderful years together, and the nibbling and sucking we had still enjoyed was only a memory. You can't just walk up to a strange woman and say, "Hi, I can't get hard anymore, would you mind giving me a blowjob?"
So, there I sat, with what definitely had to be a sexual advance presenting itself. "Friend or foe? I ask.
"Hello Jon, were you waiting for me?" A man's voice asks back.
"Danny, is that you?" I ask.
I had met Danny right here at 'Stumpy's Place' a few months earlier. Well actually that was the second time I met him. The first time was over sixty years earlier in the summer of 1947, when as a guy named Paul he sucked my cherry out the end of my dick. But that's another story.
When I met him again in Stumpy's a few months ago he introduced himself as Danny. After introducing himself he looked around and said it didn't look like there was any chance of finding a sweet young thing in Stumpy's tonight. I said it didn't much matter much to me because I couldn't get it hard anymore anyway." That isn't a big problem, if a man is willing to try something different once in a while. Sex can still be as good now as it was when you were twenty one, he said.
"You know," I said, "I just might try something different if it would feel like it did when I was twenty one. I can tell you for sure that when you get my age using a helping hand isn't much more pleasurable then taking your first pee every morning."
"Jon, if you really feel that way, why don't you follow me over to my place? We can have a beer and maybe figure out a way to solve your problem." He said.
I did and I remember the evening I followed Danny home from Stumpy's like it was yesterday.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Danny was in the kitchen getting us a couple of cold beers and I was sitting in an arm chair with those same weird thoughts running around in my head, just like they did in the summer of 1947. Once again, I am sitting in a strange man's apartment wondering what's going to happen next. After we drink our beer, will he turn the lamp off, call me over in front of him, open my zipper and take my dick and play with it for a few minutes, until it gets firm and them take it in his mouth like Paul did back then. If it happens, he'll be the first man to touch it since Paul sucked my cherry out the end of my dick.
"Hey Jon, here's your beer." Danny said. "Man you look like you were many miles away from here."
After a couple of sips Danny got right to the point. "Jon, I'm a little confused about you. Let's start off by being straight with each other. Are you gay?"
"No," I burst out immediately
