Wednesday, June 6, 2007


Hobbes is a kinda regular thing. We met through Craigslist. He’s closeted. He lives with his married sister, her husband and kid. He emails when they are going to be out of the house.

Usually, it’s Saturday morning. Real fucking early Saturday morning.

The first time we hooked up, I went to his house and we did our thing in the living room. I fucked him bent over the arm of the couch. Good thing it was leather, because we made a mess. The windows in the front don’t have drapes. He didn’t seem to care, which is odd, because he doesn’t want his sister to know. So anyone looking over might have seen. Whatever. I got off.

Normally, I don’t go back again. Not a policy, but it usually doesn’t work out. However, he was hot: late 20’s brown hair, sweet brown eyes, about 6’2”, 220, plays softball in a league—damn sweet kid.

The next time I went over, there was a note on the front door:


Come in.
Take off your clothes in the living room, come into the back bedroom, and start eating my ass.

I felt odd stripping in someone else’s living room—especially, if they were to come home unexpectedly and find my kit in the living room. I was horny, so I did it.

I got lost finding the back bedroom. There were three doors and I kept choosing the wrong one.

He’s lying on his stomach, hairy ass in the air. I start eating. He loves it. I love it. He has a mole near his on his butt. It’s not an std or anything, just an odd place for a mole. It makes me smile.

We fool around and then he asks me to fuck his face. I love it. I get close—too close. Shit, I think I came a little. I stop him. He asks me if I came. I lie and say “no.” Then he wants me to fuck him.

I condom-up and try to enter. He’s tight and nervous. We go slow. It takes a few minutes and he eases up. “I’m in,” I say. He nods. I begin fucking him. Damn, he is tight.

We fuck for a while. He likes to be dominated—pushed around a little and fucking love that shit. We’re like the Energizer Rabbit and we keep going and going.

The problem with me cuming a little earlier is that I’m not going to cum now. I can go forever at this point. A side note on me and my dick: when I’m hard, I stay hard, even after I cum a few times. When I’m nervous, I will sometimes pop quick, but I don’t need any lag time to continue.

He jacks off while on top of me, smearing my chest with his jizz. Nice.

I’m about to pop inside his tight hole and he begs me to cum in his mouth. Damnit!

I was close. Too close. I may have cum a little, again.

I beat the shit out of my dick trying to blow into his mouth—When I cum, it gushes. My body practically convulses. It’s fucking intense. I’m poking at his face and growling “Eat it. Eat my fucking cum!” to him. He does.

Minutes later, I’m standing at Starbucks. I want to tell everyone what I just did. I wonder how many of them just did the same thing?

Our sessions are all similar to this. Sometimes I fuck him; sometimes not. He always eats my cum.

Nice way to start a Saturday.

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