"Hey man, I saw your profile. So you're in the military? I was in the Air Force for six years. Guessing you're Navy," Tom asked.
He guessed right.
"Yeah, on shore duty at The Pentagon," I told him.
I hadn't been in D.C. for six months, and yet was having better luck in just talking to guys, vice from when I was stationed in Japan for the previous five years, as the Asian dudes didn't look the way of this six foot four, 230 lb. brother.
Tom was definitely a catch in his slender, six foot two runners' frame, a white guy, and some sort of "professional" based on suits he wore in his profile photos. He immediately caught my eye this particular morning as I was scanning to see if any playmates would be available on my day off.
"I love cock. I can't get enough of cock, especially those of color," said the 55-year-old.
"Well, I've got a lot of it, and I'm sure you would enjoy at least a piece," I messaged in response, gloating over my nine inch piece.
Tom was an enigma to me in my preference at the time, as my taste changed to wanting, older, chubby guys (in Japan, all the guys were slender, slanted eyes, typical Asian look). He had this aura I saw through his profile that made me inquire about him. He seemed eloquent, yet still masculine, with his stubbled chin, and salt and peppered hair. I reviewed part of his profile to see he was a man's man, as he loved sports and working out, and drank beer on occasion. I was definitely trying to meet sooner than later, with me needing that masculine mouth sucking down on this hard dick.
"You like cock you say? I read your profile, and well, how do you feel about mine," I asked.
"I adore that big, black snake of yours, and would love nothing more than to get my mouth on it," he said. "But did you read the remaining part of my profile?"
I went back and scanned the paragraphs, as it mentioned "he liked getting to know someone before putting his mouth on them, or allowing any guy into his ass."
"Just because I like cock, doesn't mean I do it often, you know? I have two daughters, an estranged wife that's trying to drain me dry, and a business," he said. "You drink coffee?"
"I do," I said, as I was lying.
I hated coffee, but if the venue had donuts or tea, I would usually order such, vice putting that God-awful liquid in my body.
"Where are you right now," he asked.
"I'm in my car. Just left the gym, and headed home for a bit before starting the day," I told him.
""Where's home," he asked.
"Arlington," I told him.
"Well good. That's where my practice is," he said.
We agreed to meet at a place called "Kaldi's," a trendy, little coffee spot that was more for socializing than anything. I made it there first, being seated and waiting as he would approach me shortly after. He wasn't wearing a suit, instead donning a Ralph Lauren buttoned up, short sleeve top, cargo shorts, and loafers, looking the part of a guy who was more on vacation than in an office. He carried a little bit of scruff, and hair slightly unkempt, giving me the impression that he was in a mode of relaxation. I stood up and we shook hands, then we hugged, as I noticed he wore a fragrance that piqued my interest even more. There was a brief moment where we stood and smiled, looking at each other in awkwardness, before we sat.
