Andrew Baker

It must be more than two years since the first time I saw Andrew Baker (not his real name). At the time, inside the public toilet just by Baker Street Tube, he was simply the old man with the extremely long and thick cock, bushy eyebrows and a suit, who had teased me by jerking off at the urinals. How many times I must have day dreamed about him, thinking of his fat cock in my mouth, pumping me with cum.

The second time I saw him was a year later – a Friday night. I was making my way to a nightclub, to meet friends, but had decided to stop by the toilets inside Baker Street and see if there was any action going on. To my surprise, there were a few guys with hard ons in full view. I was jerking off a Latino when Andrew came in. He went to a urinal far from me, but I immediately recognized his fat cock and hungry look. Before I knew it, I was spurting on the tiles – without the chance of gesturing him into an empty stall and letting him fuck my face.

I kept going back to both those toilets near Baker Street after work, but I never happened to see him – until today. I had purchased two gay porn DVDs and decided to swing by my old haunt before heading home when, as I walked into the busy bathroom, I saw him there, by his usual urinal. I couldn’t believe my luck. I immediately flicked my tongue at him and pulled my cock out. He teased me back, gesturing with his eyes towards his cock while his hand pulled the foreskin up and down and pinched the purple head. I kept licking my lips, showing him that I wanted to suck him. After a few minutes – time in which we’d become the centre of attention for the rest of the cruisers – Andrew squeezed his cock as best as possible back into his trousers and walked to the sinks. I followed him. We exchanged glances and, without muttering a word, agreed to go outside.

I immediately confessed that I’d seen him before, that I loved his cock. He was surprised but took it as a compliment. We tried to figure out a place to go – he even suggested a nearby pub – but I felt like I needed to get home and couldn’t take any chances (I’d heard through a message board dedicated to cruising that the police were cracking down on that area). I offered him my mobile phone number and promised to think of a place we could meet for next time. I told him to text me with details of when he could, and I would then reply with my answer.

When we shook hands – a moment in which I concentrated on feeling the strength of his hand, and of showing how much I wanted him – I learned his name was Andrew. I told him my name was James (not my real name). When he smiled, I noticed his teeth were rotten, and some were missing. I think he may have also been wearing a wedding ring. He said he lived in Putney and that next time we met, he’d enjoy the “session” with me. In his presence, I felt torn: on one hand, he was quite ugly compared to some of the young guys in the public toilet – I could have taken one of them outside instead of him. However, there’s something about older men that appeals to me. I like the gap in age between us, the role-playing possibilities. While talking to Andrew, I was tempted to confess that I would love him to treat me as his son next time, to incestuously serve me his cock.

Now I don’t know what to do. Sitting here, in my living room, I feel as if I could easily suck on his cock and have the time of my life. It’s a truly amazing tool – as big and fat as I’ve ever seen, even in porn movies. But Andrew himself, the man who owns the tool, is the type of old posh man who probably leads a very secretive double-life behind his wife and children, and doesn’t take much care of his body. If I could play with his cock alone, no strings attached, and know that he didn’t have any diseases, I’d be satisfied. But, in this day and age, what guarantees do I get? How do I know what I’m getting into? (I’ve already changed my mobile phone’s message – in case he calls – because the old one mentioned my real name.)

Somebody said once that you should never meet your heroes. I would add that you should never meet your fantasies: you are left not knowing where to go once they have opened their mouths.

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