I sat on the edge of the sofa in my studio, palms a little sweaty and my chest thumping. He was on his way over and would be arriving at any moment. I had never been with a man before, but I was sure it would happen tonight.
He had been over the night before last and I knew he'd wanted it then. He knew I'd wanted it too. But he also knew I was scared. He waited patiently the whole night and I never made the move, even when he scooted so close to me that our legs touched. We looked at each other, knew what the other wanted, but he needed me to make the first move. And I was just too damn scared.
We talked over the TV for a few hours as he waited for me and I tried to work up the courage. I walked him to the door as he left. My heart sank when he said in his sweet, effeminate voice, "I had fun, Chase. It was...nice." And then he walked away.
But that was the day before yesterday. We had texted since then. He knew my situation, knew I was shy. He wanted to see me again. He had found me sweet in person.
Months before, we had met on an app where men go to find other men. Chatting with each other once or twice a week, we had gotten to know each other decently well, and I felt comfortable "taking the plunge" with him.
I felt a little odd about our age gap, him being only twenty-four and I ten years his senior, but our rapport was smooth and we spoke as peers. I was his type and he was mine. He was slim and smooth, as pretty as a man can get. I was husky and covered in hair from neckline to ankles. Opposites attract, it seems.
I had known I loved men since I was fourteen years old, but it took me until thirty-four to be brave enough to accept it. To say it out loud. It had taken twenty years to finally be brave enough to act on it.
Except I hadn't acted on it the other day. I froze up, scared for my life. But I was sure I wouldn't let that happen today. My phone buzzed and I picked it up. The text stated, "I'm standing outside."
I shot up, went straight for the door, opened it up, and there he stood. I'm not sure how long I stood there before he came in, but I absorbed that moment in time like I was stuck in it.
He stood there, looking so...lovely? I couldn't quite describe it. I just knew he was gorgeous to me. He was so small, both in height and his slender frame. He was maybe five-foot-six and I looked like he weighed as much as a large dog. He wore a burgundy dress shirt with a black vest over it and a pair of ironed slacks. He looked quite sharp, night black hair combed back and parted. He was Hispanic and his skin glowed like caramel under my porch light.
When I saw him, my heart went from a nervous thumping to a beating wardrum. When he spoke, my knees became weak and my right leg buckled. "Can I come in?" And he stepped inside without waiting for an answer. He walked over to my sofa and had a seat.
I went to my kitchen area, poured an iced tea, and presented it to him. "It's nice to see you again, Juan. I really enjoyed our time together the night before." I sat beside him, to his left. Netflix continued playing whatever nature documentary I had on before. We danced around small talk. We sat close enough that we were shoulder to shoulder and we both were turned to look at each other as we conversed. I couldn't take my focus off his beautiful deep brown eyes.
My right hand had found its way to his left leg and he placed his hand over mine as if to give me permission. I was frozen once again. I didn't know what to do. I swallowed hard and just blurted out like a total spaz, "I'm super nervous. But I really like you. You're really nice and I think you're pretty. I just don't know what to do." What had I done?! I just made a fool of myself.
He smiled a wide grin and giggled in his adorable, almost girly voice. "Well, what do you want to do?" His other hand tapped me square in the chest as he said "do."
"I want to kiss you," I said.
He giggled a little more. "Well then, why don't you kiss me, silly?"
I leaned in and kissed him. I was so scared, but I did it. And as soon as I did, instincts kicked in and apprehension was left by the wayside. My hand did not leave his leg, but my other moved to hold his face as I kissed him. His hand left mine and moved to my chest as he felt me through my shirt. His lips parted and our tongues danced.
My hand slid down and under his seat as I groped his butt. My other hand found its way from holding his face to rubbing his chest and his side as we made out on my couch. I sucked on his neck and nibbled his ear, then I felt him pull at my waistline. Next thing I felt was his hand under my shirt, fingers running up and down my chest and lightly tugging at my chest hair. He giggled again, but with a much softer and seductive tone.
I was taken over by lust. I'd been wanting this for twenty years. My normal repressed and timid sexual nature became overwritten by carnal instincts. Boldness had my hand on his ass, then moving up to slide into his pants. I grasped his bare cheek.
He said, "Ohhhh," and he grasped at my chest. He shifted in his seat to give me better access to his ass and I shifted in mine so I could better kiss him. At this point I had moved back from his neck to kissing again and as I felt his tongue dart into my mouth.
His hand snuck under my pants and he took hold of my cock.
I was already as hard as I had ever been, even before he touched me there, but I hadn't even realized it until he did. I was just so caught in the passion of the moment. I didn't even register myself or my own needs until it was brought into focus. But the feeling of his hand, just still, holding my pulsating member? Electric.
Every third or fourth throb of my cock I could feel him give me a firm squeeze. This went on for a minute as we continued our kiss.
I unbuttoned his vest and started working on his shirt as he stroked me inside my pants. As I unbuttoned his second-to-last shirt button, he let go of my member and pulled off his vest and shirt. He then pulled my shirt off too. "Ah, that's better," he said. "And look at you, so handsome. I love your hairy chest." He ran two fingers up and down from my belly to my neck.
"And I love everything about you," I said, almost breathlessly and without hesitation. And I meant it. He was beautiful. He was also so sweet. He was perfect to me.