Years ago, a reader of this blog warned me to never bring a stranger back home for sex while I was in a relationship. And for many years that was a rule I didn’t dare break. That is, until this summer.
As I mentioned before, I’d been chatting off and on for a year to a married guy I’d met on a gay cruising site. The few times we tried to hook up didn’t work out as he was very worried about being seen in public with a gay guy – he was very insistent on us meeting somewhere private (i.e. my home, as he had a wife and kids.) I didn’t want to bring him home, but I also couldn’t stop thinking about him. There was something about the way we talked to each other – the things we wanted to do to each other – that made me think we’d be great in bed together.
I finally took the plunge this August and emailed him to say my boyfriend was traveling on business and that he had given his blessing (lie) for us to meet at our flat. He took a whole day to respond – a day that I spent checking incessantly my email. Finally, he said he was happy and excited with this news, and asked for me to send him photos so he could remember my face. And so I did, photos that showed my new body after months of working out. He immediately replied to say how sexy I was, how excited he was, and to share some of his photos – photos I hadn’t seen before: two of his face, one in which he was smiling (and looking very camp), one of his furry chest and big belly, and two of his cock – a cock about 6 inches long, thick, with a massive mushroom head. We ended up agreeing for him to come to my flat on the eve of Saturday 20 August.
I tidied the flat on that Saturday and spent the whole day thinking about him. I’d never invited a stranger home before – would he turn out to be a psychopath? Should I alert friends so they could check up on me later? He emailed me in the morning to confirm he was still coming, even offering to bring a bottle of wine. I said that was fine, that I looked forward to meeting him in a few hours after a whole year of email exchanges.
I went for a 5K run that morning so I could get rid of some nervous energy, douched my ass to perfection so he’d find it nice and clean to play with (just the way he liked it). I even told him I’d had recent STD exam results from Dean Street Express come back negative so he didn’t have to worry about catching anything from me. He thanked me for letting him know. As a married man and a father, he couldn’t afford to catch a disease. He said that made him even more horny for me and all the things he’d like to do to me.
I paced around the flat, watched porn, kept an eye on the clock. I thought: “holy shit, he’s going to be here in x hours, we are going to kiss, we are going to fuck.” Then, he emailed to apologise he was running late, about to take a shower, but he’d soon be with me.
And so he did. Just after 8:30pm, my intercom rang. I buzzed him in and opened my front door. He came out of the lift wearing jeans, a grey polo shirt, a baseball cap and glasses. He scanned the hallway until he spotted me. I said hello and let him in.
We were both nervous and awkward. He asked if he should take off his shoes in the hallway and I said that was fine. I was wearing black shorts and my lucky black V top. He came into the living room, checking everything out, taking in my place, taking me in.
“We finally meet,” I said, trying to be friendly. “Would you like some water?”
“You know what?” he said. “I completely forgot the bottle of wine.”
“No worries.” I grabbed two glasses of water for us and we drank them while standing by my dinner table. Very quickly, our glasses were down on the table and we were kissing.
He was the same height as me, 5’11, but 10kg heavier. His head was shaved, soft like velvet, and he had a goatee. He kissed me with hunger, hard. Before he’d arrived, I’d turned off all lights and lit candles around the flat – small, white scented candles I’d bought from Poundland. I also had turned on my Spotify and put on shuffle the “Nightmare on Wax” radio.
“Should we continue here?” he asked, pointing at my sofa. I took him by the hand and led him to the bedroom.
There were candles also lit in the bedroom – two on the windowsill and one on a bedside table that also held strawberry-flavoured lube and a pile of condoms. We stood at the end of the bed and continued kissing. Then we started taking off all of our clothes and dropping them onto the floor.
Underneath his top was a golden crucifix chain. He took it off and placed it near the pile of condoms on the bedside table.
“What do you want to do?” I asked him.
“Let’s just go with the flow.”
Once we were completely naked, he gently pushed me onto the bed. I moved up to give him space to join me. I could see our reflections on the wardrobe’s mirrors (large mirrors that run the whole span of the bed.) Throughout the night, I’d find myself watching us in the mirror, when we fucked or just held each other, the candles flickering in them.
He started sucking my cock and then lifted my legs and ass to access my hole. It was the first time a guy rimmed me (my boyfriend is not into it.) He gave me a deep, intense, long rim job. Then he put my legs on his shoulders and pressed his fat mushroom head against my hole. A few moments later he rolled onto my side and whispered: “what do you want to do?”
“Anything you want. You’re in charge.”
“I want you to ride my cock.”
I climbed on top of him and spread some lube on my hole. I guided his cock there but it was too thick, I couldn’t get it inside. So I leaned down to kiss him as he rubbed his cock on my butt crack and held me. And then I was moaning: “Oh shit, I’m coming,” and I shot my first load all over his furry stomach.
“Really?” he laughed. “Should I still stick it in?”
“Yeah, do it.”
I lifted a little and tried to get his cock in again, but then he started shooting his hot cum all over my ass.
We laughed together for a bit and I reached for the pile of towels I had on the other side of the bed, which I’d left there earlier in case we needed them.
“First of the towels,” I said as I wiped the cum off our bodies and then dropped it on the floor. We then held each other, kissed and talked.
He stayed for a total of four hours with me, until 1am. Throughout these four hours, we fucked three times, kissed, hugged, touched each other, and talked about our lives. It was a mixture of hot sex with therapy.
He was completely unlike any guy I would normally find attractive – and I enjoyed the realisation that I could be so open and accepting of someone who didn’t conform to a previous image in my head of what constitutes a “hot guy”.
Aside from being a big boy, and out of shape, he had hair covering every inch of his body. But I really liked it! His fur was soft and I loved stroking it throughout the night. I also loved how full of testosterone he was, how aggressive he turned when we fucked. There was a side of him that didn’t care if I orgasmed or not, and I liked that – my mind frame was of being a guy completely at his disposal, there to satisfy all his needs.
He told me about his wife and how cold their marriage had become, how she didn’t meet his needs anymore. He told me of previous hook ups he had with guys, their complications, their lies. He told me of his little boys and how he wanted to be a great father to them.
I didn’t talk too much about myself – I was there as a listener, and I didn’t mind.
After we’d rested a bit, he climbed on top of me and lifted my legs again onto his shoulders. He lubbed me up and pressed his cock in. He had told me his sexual history, how he got tested often and never bottomed. We silently decided we weren’t going to use any condoms.
He pushed hard and I flinched with pain. “Are you ok?” he asked.
“Yeah, just need to go in a little slower.”
I relaxed and his cock worked its way in. Then he started fucking me, nice and hard. I slapped my hard cock against his belly as he fucked me, we kissed. I’d then smile at him and he’d smile back. Before long, he was shooting his cum inside me – the first time a guy had ever done so… and then he continued to fuck me and shot a second load. “Fuck, I’m having a multiple orgasm!” he grunted. Then it was my turn to shoot all over my chest. He scooped some of my cum into his mouth then shared it with me in a kiss.
We were now covered with sweat, and my ass was wet with cum and well used by his cock.
Later, after midnight, he turned me on my stomach and climbed on top of me. Again, he fucked me hard, pressing his heavy body down on me, filling my hole with cum. This time it was all about him satisfying his needs. I was feeling so fucked and well used, I didn’t mind. My whole body was tender, I was loving being in bed with him, watching the candles one by one die, hearing the music far away in the living room.
As the time got closer for him to leave, he became melancholic. He held me close and said my boyfriend was very lucky, that he would do everything to live my life, be with me. That he’d like to meet again.
I didn’t reply, I didn’t want to commit to anything. By that stage, I’d begun to feel an immense emptiness in him – this life he’d built on lies, this life where he couldn’t be who he really was, having so many secrets. I didn’t want to be a secret his wife might find out about. Maybe I saw a little of myself in him too, having sex with other guys without my boyfriend knowing, but I knew I was in the path to changing that, to being more honest with him, and I just didn’t see a place in that new life for this married man.
He then told me that every time he hooked up with a guy, he couldn’t wait to leave once the sex was done, but with me it had been different. For the first time he didn’t want to leave. I just held him tight and stroked him, and he moaned and held me tight.
I offered my shower for him to use but he declined, said he didn’t think he smelt of sex. He said it would look weird if he came home newly showered. We got dressed up and I led him to the front door. He nearly forgot his gold crucifix on my bedside table. We kissed a final time and I told him he was a great guy, that he would be an amazing father to his sons, that everything would work out fine in his life. I was standing in the hallway shirtless, just in my black shorts, reeking of his sex, and he said I looked so good – he flinched away, almost as if it was too painful for him to look at me.
I took a shower once he was gone and slept on the sex-filled sheets. I could still feel his cum inside of me, smell him all over the room. I washed everything in the morning after I woke up.