Monday, August 29, 2011

More Trade

"You want to see a picture of my wife?"

His question's timing was odd. I was in the back of his van with my pants around my ankles, dick in my left hand, a roll of his twenty-dollar bills still clutched in my right. Without waiting for an answer, he reached into his madras shorts and pulled out his iPhone. A couple of clicks and a riffs of the finger later and he was thrusting the little screen in my face.

"Pretty, huh?" The wife was attractive in that white-bread, bland, Talbots-catalog way I've come to associate with the women of this community. Her skin was pale, her hair a carefully-tinted blond, her clothes expensive, but little more than loose-fitting yoga-to-coffee-shop gear in pastels. "We've been married twelve years." He flipped past a couple of more photos to show more shots of the pretty female in front of what I assumed was their house. He stuffed the phone back into his pocket. "How long have you been married?"

I'd stuffed the money into my jeans. My hand was curled around my dick. Despite the decidedly unsexy talk, I cocked my head and looked down at my own rigidity, calling attention to it by the slump of my spine against the seat back behind me, the spread of my legs, the fingers toying with my balls. A long, quiet time passed before I answered. I could hear the sound of I-95 on the other side of the road, and of the strip mall traffic around us. "Twenty-two years."

His eyes had been on my dick until I spoke. "You got kids? You've made kids with that?" I didn't say anything. This was our second meeting, here in the back of this man's van. This father of two, this owner of a landscaping company, this blond-headed model from a Land's End catalog in plaid and a tight yellow polo shirt that managed to accentuate and conform to his substantial chest muscles. His hair legs jutted out of a pair of deck shoes, the knees pointing at opposite sides of the van. His hands fidgeted uncomfortably between them. "Twenty-two years. Damn. That's a long—" His thought trailed off. "Can I touch it?"

I was playing it reluctant. He didn't want me too eager. "I don't know," I drawled, looking around. As if anyone could see us, in the artificial dusk of that van. "We didn't talk about that shit, man."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out that rounded wad of bills once more. It sprang into shape when he unclipped it and peeled off three more twenties. He didn't toss them at me with contempt, or hold them out to me as if trying to tempt me. No, he leaned forward with the money in both his hands, offering it to me in supplication. He wanted to touch me, this time. He was willing to shell out for it. I took the sixty bucks and added it to the three hundred he'd already given me, and shrugged.

He didn't need to know I let men touch it for free.

The last time we'd met I hadn't let him close to it at all. This time, though, I opened my legs wide enough to allow his body between them. My jeans were tangled around my ankles and I still had on my college T-shirt and an orange baseball cap slouched on my head. His abdomen rested on my ankles. It was flat and hard. His hand curled around my shaft, touching it gingerly, as if he were for the first time picking up something small, delicate, and breakable.

Fuck that shit. "Squeeze it," I commanded. His blue eyes flicked up at mine, then back to my meat, mesmerized. His fingers curled, hard, harder. "Yeah," I grunted, thrusting up. "Harder. C'mon. Yeah."

He touched my dick like he'd never held one before. Not even his own. His joints squeezed the skin, and dug in at the wrong angles. I pried his hand away and reconnected it in a better, superior place. His face was dead serious as he explored the length of my shaft. He played with the head, and pulled apart the tip of my urethra to make it pucker like a fish. He ran the back of his knuckles along the length, and toyed with my furry balls. I even left his fingers wander down my taint, and to brush ever-so-softly against the outside of my hole.

"Let me suck it," he suggested.

I attempted to look horrified. "Fuck, no."

"Just a taste." He was begging, but I shook my head. "Let me rub my cheek on it. That's all."

His mouth was only inches away. He could've just lunged and I wouldn't have been able to stop him, pinned against the seat as I was. "Nuh-uh," I growled, taking my dick back. I let him know with a knit brow what I thought of that dirty fag stuff.

"Let me touch it again."

I stroked for him while he played with my nuts and ran his fingertips up and down the outside of my shaft. I think he thought he was doing something both erotic and exotic as his light touch fluttered on my skin, but in reality the best I can say is that at least he managed not to distract me too much.

After a while I took one of his hands and wrapped it around my balls, silently instructing him to tug and squeeze gently. He took the instruction well; the added sensation made my dick bulge and turn a deeper shade. He learned pretty quickly to tell how I responded to a certain kind of tug over another. By the time I was leaking pre-cum, he seemed pretty pleased with himself. "Let me suck it," he said.

I looked pained.

"You can show me how."

I shook my head and looked vaguely disgusted. "Nah, I don't think so."

"If I practice, will you let me next time? Not on a dick. On a banana." When I didn't say anything, he improvised wildly on this theme. "I'll suck on a banana so I learn not to gag. Fuck. I want to learn to suck a cock. Teach me?"

"I don't know," I lied.

"I'll give you extra for it." At that, I didn't say anything. I could tell by the look in his eyes that he thought he had me, there. That little extra green incentive, he seemed to realize, was all that he needed to lure me from the near-straight-and-narrow to the dark side.

What he didn't know was that I'm the one who was having him on. I didn't need that extra cash. But I sure liked seeing him grovel.

It was the sight of those wide eyes, that certainty that he could throw money at me to make me do things I wouldn't ordinarily, that pushed me over the edge. I shot in a geyser that arrived announced only by my hastened breathing and the arch of my back. It splashed up and forward; he jerked his hand away at the last moment as if I were spewing hot lava. I came in grunts and snorts, a married man's orgasm, brusque and brutish. Then I panted for a moment.

He was studiously mopping up the puddle I'd left with a baby wipe from a tray. I lay down on my back so that I could hoist up my hips and pull up my pants. When I was fastening the button, he suddenly hovered over me. His head was directly above mine; he looked into my eyes. For an astonished moment I thought he might actually kiss me.

"Hey," he said. "Does your wife tell you you're handsome?"

I shrugged.

"Because you are. You're sexy. For a guy. You're sexy."

"Thanks, dude," I said.

His hand brushed my crazy hair from my forehead. I could feel its calluses. "You're hot," he said. "Think about the sucking."

"Yeah." I made it sound like that wouldn't be happening.

"I'll practice. You'll like it, I promise."

I didn't agree, but I didn't say no. I knew we'd get there, sooner or later.


  1. I've always admired how you can go back and forth very quickly between the very (and laughably) absurd to the darkly erotic in just a line or word or so. I think it's one of the best things I like about your writing and your humor.

    Though you do the same in your more sentimental pieces too: it's like a gentle caress two seconds before you bury yourself into someone, and then when you are balls deep, you caress again.

    And, yeah, you ARE sexy...for a guy. LOL

  2. Nice. I like the way you play this guy along. I think you're giving him EXACTLY what he wants. If you were any more giving to him, he might get more uncomfortable with the situation and stop coming to you. But yeah, you'll both get there. And I'm sure he'll love every moment of it. You'll make sure he does.


  3. Writer,

    I love that you recognize the entire significance of this encounter to me lies in the absurdity of that three-word dependent clause, "for a guy." Because it honestly made the whole thing sweet for me.

  4. Ace,

    Yeah, if I were to say, "Hell yeah, suck that thing," he'd probably run away and never come back. Baiting the trap and letting him come to it at his own speed will ensnare him completely, though.

  5. My first thought was, that's all he got for $360.00. But then thinking about the whole thing again, he got a lot for the money. That few minutes will last longer in his mind then a dinner and a movie would, so to him, it was money well spent.

  6. Hey Sexy, for a guy your one hell of a writer. hal

  7. Cyberi4a,

    Hell yeah, he got a bargain price for this!

  8. Ah, yes. The Talbot's look. Know it well. You do know that the fictional Stepford of book and film fame was a Connecticut town? You can substitute virtually any town in Fairfield County -- well, except Norwalk, Bridgeport, Stamford and Danbury (no longer sufficiently WASPish). It's pretty creepy sometimes with how identical so many people try to look on the Gold Coast.

    After your john gets the pleasure of swallowing your cock & cum, I bet he'll start thinking of riding it, too. Need to rig you with a hidden camera for that one ;-)

  9. RedPhillip,

    The film was made in Darien, wasn't it? Just up the street.

  10. Rob,

    The original 1975 film (which was much truer to the book) was indeed shot in Darien. The comedic retake on the story was actually shot New Jersey. Sic transit and all that.

  11. Darien, and a good part of the '75 film was also made in the Greenfield Hill section of Fairfield (my old stomping ground in my Bernstein tenure). Ira Levin said he modeled the film on Wilton, where he'd lived in the '60s. All fairly interchangeable towns, though the closer one is to the nexus of Cos Cob, Greenwich, Old Greenwich, Darien, New Canaan, et. al. the thicker the miasma of privilege.

  12. You're handling this guy in just the right manner. He knows what he wants, but he can't do it without the monetary transaction and the need for him to negotiate such a "disgusting" act. One of your comment writers nailed it when he said that this guy will end up riding your beautiful 8 incher. All I can ask is that you remember to say to him the immortal lines from the movie "Tea and Sympathy": "Years from now, when you talk about this, and you will, be kind." Only say these words when your seed is oozing out of his hole, and he's lying underneath you, soaked in sweat, totally spent after you have truly made a man out of him.

  13. I've been lurking here for awhile, and I finally decided to comment. I really think your writing is excellent, there's something visceral about it that just sucks me in. You manage to write in a literary fashion, but it never takes away from the sexual aspect; If anything, it enhances it. Looking forward to reading more hot stuff. ;)


  14. Cowboy,

    The remake didn't even make sense.

    The original was probably best, but I remember several times in the seventies watching on television a sequel that featured Julie Kavner. For some reason it sticks in my head.

  15. Chris T.,

    I think you're right. The guy needs all these barriers between us—the cash, the bro-talk, the heavy emphasis on our relationships—in order to get comfortable enough to do what he wants so desperately to do. I hope for his sake he manages to keep those barriers up until it happens, because it's a bitch for everyone when they come crashing down.

  16. JulianusApostate,

    Goodness, I feel like I'm having audience with the papacy.

    Thanks for unlurking, particularly with compliments like those. Know you're welcome here anytime as long as you keep that up.

    I'll keep trying to be visceral and literary, but I have to warn you that most days I just shoot for 'vaguely coherent.'

  17. You do--as so many have said before--have a remarkable talent for giving someone what they really need and, in the depths of their heart, what they really want. and you write about those so beautifully.

  18. Rob,

    Thank you.

    You make the world a more beautiful place through your writing - you share your thoughts and your experiences with such eloquence.


  19. Richard,

    I am truly remarkable. You are correct.

    But seriously, thank you. :-)

  20. Charles,

    Thank you for the kind words. I appreciated hearing them.

  21. Rob my friend,
    What can i say to that post, WOW that was amazing. From start to finish, just fabulous.Love the way you wrote that, it's like i was there in the van with both of you or seeing it on tv. The way you said everything is so real and steamy hot that i almost burst in my boxer. Thank you for that great post.


  22. and mouse. I wonder what his reaction would be to an "accidental" facial.


  23. Your writing couldn't be any more soigné, goatish & arousing! Thank you!

    I hope that you will regale your faithful readers with a plethora of further stories of your transactions with the married closeted blond landscaping-company-owner hottie from the environs of Darien with the big roll of bills in his pocket. He's at the very top of my list of faves!