Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Newly divorced, hearbreakingly sweet

I meet a man in a Chinatown Starbucks for a preparatory meeting. He's a talker alright, very forthcoming, he tells me all about his long marriage, then his depression and divorce. Needless to say, he's a right-wing DC hill type originally from the midwest. He's very endearing, he has a child-like quality despite his age. In fact, he's somewhat like a blonder, more nordic looking version of Andy Richter. The talking seems to relieve his concerns. He asks me to accompany him home which I gladly accept.

In the parking garage in the privacy of his car we talk about the sexual side of things. He has had no experience to speak of since his teenage years. He's been on the dating scene but has not been able to find the right match. He wants to be serviced by a young man. More specifically, he wants to be stripped and kissed all over, in his current semi-sweaty state. He likes sex to be sweaty. I lift his arm and press my nose and mouth into the moist patch of his underarm cotton shirt. A little manly scent, nothing unbearable. Next order of business, he wants to be sucked to completion. He says that he's well endowed and he wants to be sure that he can thrust and cum into my mouth without me wretching or gagging. I assure him that I will be able to calmly and quietly take his member with no violent biological reactions. He's worried that he's coming across as a creep but I reassure him that I'm happy to service him, that he's attractive and that I will enjoy myself too.

He's visibly hard through his trousers as he unlocks the door to his condo. In the hall we kiss deeply. He's really very sweet. I strip for him slowly as he caresses my body full of affection. We start in the living room, he's on the couch and I'm naked before him. He unbuttons his shirt as I undo his shoelaces. He instructs me to massage his feet and I comply, he begins to caress my torso with his free foot as I massage the other. His feet are large, wide, warm black-cotton covered feelers. He nudges them up my torso towards my face. I bury my face in his left foot, kissing the sniffing at the toes, they're moist and imbued with the pleasant scent of  new leather shoes. I whip off the sock and kiss the sole from the heel to the arch and the toes. He's in ecstasy, clients pay for these details really. The toes look neat and pedicured, he gasps as I suck on his big toe. I can feel the fingerprint like texture of his toe on my tongue. I haven't ever done that for a client before, but I know I've sealed his approval in those few seconds. He stands panting on one bare foot well covered in saliva and removes his remaining sock and trousers. He's fully erect, although, not quite as well endowed as he seems to think. Certainly no choking hasard. Each thrust into my mouth is a sprint towards orgasm and by the third or forth thrust he's shooting cum. Creamy and sweet in short bursts. I swallow and jerk myself off, shooting my own cum onto his bare foot. He giggles, I thought he'd like it. He looks so satiated. He fetchs me a glass of water and returns with a heartwarming smile to tell me: "I haven't felt like that since I was a teenager".

I know what he means, there's something very uniquely satisfying about having sweaty feet massaged and licked. It's great foreplay for fellatio. There is something satisfying about it. Maybe it's the power trip. Having someone so eager to please beneath your feet, sending soft and pleasant sensations with their mouth, lips and tongue. He didn't warn me about the foot play, but to be fair he only hinted at it and I jumped right in.

He's a little upset at not having lasted longer, but I think it's more his machismo than a real complaint. He wants to make it a weekly meeting. I'm more than happy with that, he's quite a handsome guy really. So easily pleased, I find that endearing. He's denied himself any satisfying sex for decades, I'm glad to provide him a little release if not some reassurance that his rather beefy frame is not without its charms. He offers to drop me home, but my Metro ride is a ritual by now so I take my generous wad of cash and head for the red line stop a few blocks over.


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