ricardo719
Forum Regular
- Joined
- Dec 21, 2008
- Messages
- 334
- Location
- Illinois
I had moved into an old Victorian house that had been split up into apartments, and accepted the job of apartment manager in order to pay minimal rent. It was a nice house and had been well cared for, and repairs and maintenance could be hired out at my discretion.
A few months after I moved in, I got a call for an apartment that had just been vacated. I told the young man to come to the house at around 2pm for a walk-through to see if he was still interested. He showed up on time, with his girlfriend at his side. He was about 6'4" and lanky with a solid, muscular build, and chiseled features. If he lived in a big city he would have become a model instantly. Lucky for me, this was a small town and opportunities for young people were few and far between.
The girl looked like a small-town slut, bleached-blonde, too much makeup, in a tube top, cutoff jeans, and flip-flops. She started bitching the minute they walked onto the porch. "Babe, c'mon, let's look somewhere else. I hate old houses."
I told him that the apartment was small, and therefore suitable for single-occupancy. Overnight guests were allowed, but he couldn't have a roommate. "That's cool."
"Do whatever you want, I'm'a go sit in the car," and his girlfriend huffed down the steps and back to the awaiting Camaro.
"I'd like to see it, mister, if that's okay." I opened the door and let him walk in, and followed close behind. It was a hot day, there was no air conditioning, and he'd already soaked through his t-shirt, which made it practically see-through. He peeled it off and hung it in his back pocket, revealing his defined physique. He looked at every room, occasionally commenting on where he would place certain furniture pieces.
"Do I need an application or somethin'?"
I pulled out a stool from under the kitchen counter and placed a lease application and a pen in front of him. "Fill this out, and I'll call you back in a few days."
"Cool, man, thanks."
A week later, Trevor arrived with a couple of his hunky friends, and a couple of pickup trucks full of his belongings. I sat on the front porch, drinking sweet tea and watching as the handsome, muscular men moved furniture and boxes, sweating up a storm. They glistened in the sun. Soon t-shirts were drenched, removed, snapped at each other, and strewn across the front lawn.
When they finished moving everything in, they plopped themselves down on my new neighbor's furniture in the living room. I took a fresh pitcher of tea and some glasses over and offered them a cool drink. Trevor smiled and said, "Hey, thanks man!"
The young men polished off the pitcher in short order, and then his buddies said, "Hey, see ya!"
"Aren't ya gonna help me ..."
"You're on yer own, you got yer stuff here!" they said as they gathered their shirts, piled into the pickups, and took off.
"Would you like me to ..."
"Aw, naw, man, but thanks!" Trevor put his hand on my shoulder and shook my hand. "I got this, I was jus' givin' 'em a hard time."
I went back to my apartment and listened as I heard him moving furniture around, and boxes shuffling as he moved them around and started unpacking them. I could just imagine his sweat-drenched, muscular body, shirtless, moving everything.
A few hours later, things got quiet. I figured maybe he was done unpacking the most important things, at least, and was taking a rest. I heard two car doors slam out front, so I peered out the window. There was Trevor's Camaro, and a big luxury sedan, most likely a Buick. An older woman stood by the big car, waiting, as Trevor's girlfriend stormed up the stairs and started banging on his door. I was about to step out to ask her to quiet down, when he opened the door.
"What the hell ..."
"We're over! Done! Finished! You hear me, motherfucker?" She threw his car keys at him. "You aint' good enough for me!" I saw the woman by the big car smiling, and figured this had to be the girl's mother. The girl turned and stomped down the steps, back out to the big car. Both women got in and drove off.
"Good fuckin' riddance," Trevor said under his breath, barely audible. Then he looked over and saw me standing in my doorway. "Hey, sorry man, that won't happen again."
"Thanks, I'll hold you to that," I said, and smiled and winked at him. He smiled sheepishly and went back into his apartment.
The next day I heard things being shuffled around again, and I knew Trevor was back to unpacking. I had just finished lunch and loud music started to play, so obviously he'd found his stereo. After about 15 minutes, I was going to go ask him to turn it down a little. As I stepped in front of his door, I could hear him moaning and gasping. Ah, the girlfriend had come back for a goodbye fuck, how sweet! I went back to my apartment and turned on my own stereo. I would talk to him later when he wasn't so "busy."
After an hour, I turned my stereo off, and could still hear Trevor's playing. I went back to his door, and didn't hear any other sounds. I opened the screen door and was going to knock on the main door, when a breeze pushed it open slightly. Trevor was laying on his davenport, sleeping, or so I thought. His right hand was on his stomach, but slipped off and his arm fell straight, his hand resting limply on the floor. I stepped over to the stereo and turned it off. Something didn't seem right, so I went over to Trevor to wake him.
I picked up his hand from the floor, and heard the beginning of a death rattle coming from Trevor's throat. I felt for a pulse and it felt weak. His breathing was shallow. I took the baseball cap off of his head and gently tapped the side of his face, but he didn't respond. I called his name several times. I took his face in my hand and gently shook his head back and forth, and that's when the syringe rolled out from under his neck, onto the floor, and I noticed the puncture wound. It looked like someone had stabbed him the neck and drugged him with something toxic. I suspected the girlfriend, but had no proof, and I hadn't actually seen her.
I pulled up one of his eyelids, but the pupil didn't respond. The rattle in his chest and throat was becoming more pronounced, and I knew that he was probably brain-dead, and that his gorgeous body was not far behind.
I'd lusted for him from the very first day, and I wanted him. I wanted him before he died, maybe even during, and after. He was too beautiful to die, and too beautiful to live. I closed and locked the front door and went back to his side. His belt was undone, and so was the top button of his jeans, but the zipper was still up. It looked as though she'd teased him just enough to get him worked up and excited, which would have been the moaning and gasping I'd heard, and then she injected him and left him for dead. She didn't latch the front door because she knew it would make a noise.
I unzipped his jeans and pulled them down, leaving them on the floor. I gently picked him up under his arms and dragged him into the bedroom, and laid him down on the bed. I removed his socks and his underwear and tossed them into the corner. I began exploring his body, feeling his warm muscles, exploring the valleys between them with my fingers and my tongue. Occasionally he'd pull a sharp breath, and I thought he might wake up. Once his eyes fluttered open as I was kissing him. He seemed to look right at me. His arms drew up around me in a weak hug. As they fell limply to his sides, I wrapped my hands around his biceps and felt them contract as he bent his arms. His legs kicked a little, and his feet slid on the sheet as they relaxed.
I got between his legs and gently squeezed his balls. I ran my hands up the insides of his thighs and his cock began to get hard. I continued with my hands on his lower abdomen and balls, slowly licking up the shaft of his hardening cock. I licked around the head and into the urethra, then back down the shaft. He started breathing harder as his abdominal muscles contracted, and his hips began to rise. His back arched slightly, and I could feel his balls contract as he began to release his very last cumload. I drained his cock dry and savored every drop.
As his torso relaxed and his cock began to go soft, his breathing became more sporadic and the rattle got stronger. I moved up toward the head of the bed, and lifted him by the shoulders, placing his upper torso and head in my lap. I stroked his face and called his name again. A single tear fell from his left eye, and his left arm bent up, his hand stroked my arm like a feather, and then it fell limp. He took one last raspy gasp, and then released it. He didn't take another breath. His body fell limp, and then began to convulse. I tried to go over as much of his body as I could while he did, to feel as many of those muscles contract and release as I could. When he stopped moving completely, I rolled him over onto his face, and pulled his tight little bubble butt toward my pelvis. I had been hard since I pulled him onto my lap, so I plowed into his silky, tight, and still hot rectum. I could hear his cock slap his abs every time I pushed into him. When I finally popped my load, it was sheer ecstasy. I gently pushed him back down flat on the bed, and put my cock back into his anus. I wrapped my arms around him and laid there for quite awhile, not really wanting to let go, but as his body began to cool, I knew rigor would begin to set in, so I had to pull out. I rolled him onto his side and spooned the young hunk's corpse.
So that was what it was like to be with another man. I'd heard about it, read about it, seen it in movies, and even fantasized about it, but being over 50 and experiencing it "in the flesh", so to speak, for the first time was nothing short of amazing. Maybe I'll get to try it again someday. Now, what to do with Trevor? Hmmm ...
A few months after I moved in, I got a call for an apartment that had just been vacated. I told the young man to come to the house at around 2pm for a walk-through to see if he was still interested. He showed up on time, with his girlfriend at his side. He was about 6'4" and lanky with a solid, muscular build, and chiseled features. If he lived in a big city he would have become a model instantly. Lucky for me, this was a small town and opportunities for young people were few and far between.
The girl looked like a small-town slut, bleached-blonde, too much makeup, in a tube top, cutoff jeans, and flip-flops. She started bitching the minute they walked onto the porch. "Babe, c'mon, let's look somewhere else. I hate old houses."
I told him that the apartment was small, and therefore suitable for single-occupancy. Overnight guests were allowed, but he couldn't have a roommate. "That's cool."
"Do whatever you want, I'm'a go sit in the car," and his girlfriend huffed down the steps and back to the awaiting Camaro.
"I'd like to see it, mister, if that's okay." I opened the door and let him walk in, and followed close behind. It was a hot day, there was no air conditioning, and he'd already soaked through his t-shirt, which made it practically see-through. He peeled it off and hung it in his back pocket, revealing his defined physique. He looked at every room, occasionally commenting on where he would place certain furniture pieces.
"Do I need an application or somethin'?"
I pulled out a stool from under the kitchen counter and placed a lease application and a pen in front of him. "Fill this out, and I'll call you back in a few days."
"Cool, man, thanks."
A week later, Trevor arrived with a couple of his hunky friends, and a couple of pickup trucks full of his belongings. I sat on the front porch, drinking sweet tea and watching as the handsome, muscular men moved furniture and boxes, sweating up a storm. They glistened in the sun. Soon t-shirts were drenched, removed, snapped at each other, and strewn across the front lawn.
When they finished moving everything in, they plopped themselves down on my new neighbor's furniture in the living room. I took a fresh pitcher of tea and some glasses over and offered them a cool drink. Trevor smiled and said, "Hey, thanks man!"
The young men polished off the pitcher in short order, and then his buddies said, "Hey, see ya!"
"Aren't ya gonna help me ..."
"You're on yer own, you got yer stuff here!" they said as they gathered their shirts, piled into the pickups, and took off.
"Would you like me to ..."
"Aw, naw, man, but thanks!" Trevor put his hand on my shoulder and shook my hand. "I got this, I was jus' givin' 'em a hard time."
I went back to my apartment and listened as I heard him moving furniture around, and boxes shuffling as he moved them around and started unpacking them. I could just imagine his sweat-drenched, muscular body, shirtless, moving everything.
A few hours later, things got quiet. I figured maybe he was done unpacking the most important things, at least, and was taking a rest. I heard two car doors slam out front, so I peered out the window. There was Trevor's Camaro, and a big luxury sedan, most likely a Buick. An older woman stood by the big car, waiting, as Trevor's girlfriend stormed up the stairs and started banging on his door. I was about to step out to ask her to quiet down, when he opened the door.
"What the hell ..."
"We're over! Done! Finished! You hear me, motherfucker?" She threw his car keys at him. "You aint' good enough for me!" I saw the woman by the big car smiling, and figured this had to be the girl's mother. The girl turned and stomped down the steps, back out to the big car. Both women got in and drove off.
"Good fuckin' riddance," Trevor said under his breath, barely audible. Then he looked over and saw me standing in my doorway. "Hey, sorry man, that won't happen again."
"Thanks, I'll hold you to that," I said, and smiled and winked at him. He smiled sheepishly and went back into his apartment.
The next day I heard things being shuffled around again, and I knew Trevor was back to unpacking. I had just finished lunch and loud music started to play, so obviously he'd found his stereo. After about 15 minutes, I was going to go ask him to turn it down a little. As I stepped in front of his door, I could hear him moaning and gasping. Ah, the girlfriend had come back for a goodbye fuck, how sweet! I went back to my apartment and turned on my own stereo. I would talk to him later when he wasn't so "busy."
After an hour, I turned my stereo off, and could still hear Trevor's playing. I went back to his door, and didn't hear any other sounds. I opened the screen door and was going to knock on the main door, when a breeze pushed it open slightly. Trevor was laying on his davenport, sleeping, or so I thought. His right hand was on his stomach, but slipped off and his arm fell straight, his hand resting limply on the floor. I stepped over to the stereo and turned it off. Something didn't seem right, so I went over to Trevor to wake him.
I picked up his hand from the floor, and heard the beginning of a death rattle coming from Trevor's throat. I felt for a pulse and it felt weak. His breathing was shallow. I took the baseball cap off of his head and gently tapped the side of his face, but he didn't respond. I called his name several times. I took his face in my hand and gently shook his head back and forth, and that's when the syringe rolled out from under his neck, onto the floor, and I noticed the puncture wound. It looked like someone had stabbed him the neck and drugged him with something toxic. I suspected the girlfriend, but had no proof, and I hadn't actually seen her.
I pulled up one of his eyelids, but the pupil didn't respond. The rattle in his chest and throat was becoming more pronounced, and I knew that he was probably brain-dead, and that his gorgeous body was not far behind.
I'd lusted for him from the very first day, and I wanted him. I wanted him before he died, maybe even during, and after. He was too beautiful to die, and too beautiful to live. I closed and locked the front door and went back to his side. His belt was undone, and so was the top button of his jeans, but the zipper was still up. It looked as though she'd teased him just enough to get him worked up and excited, which would have been the moaning and gasping I'd heard, and then she injected him and left him for dead. She didn't latch the front door because she knew it would make a noise.
I unzipped his jeans and pulled them down, leaving them on the floor. I gently picked him up under his arms and dragged him into the bedroom, and laid him down on the bed. I removed his socks and his underwear and tossed them into the corner. I began exploring his body, feeling his warm muscles, exploring the valleys between them with my fingers and my tongue. Occasionally he'd pull a sharp breath, and I thought he might wake up. Once his eyes fluttered open as I was kissing him. He seemed to look right at me. His arms drew up around me in a weak hug. As they fell limply to his sides, I wrapped my hands around his biceps and felt them contract as he bent his arms. His legs kicked a little, and his feet slid on the sheet as they relaxed.
I got between his legs and gently squeezed his balls. I ran my hands up the insides of his thighs and his cock began to get hard. I continued with my hands on his lower abdomen and balls, slowly licking up the shaft of his hardening cock. I licked around the head and into the urethra, then back down the shaft. He started breathing harder as his abdominal muscles contracted, and his hips began to rise. His back arched slightly, and I could feel his balls contract as he began to release his very last cumload. I drained his cock dry and savored every drop.
As his torso relaxed and his cock began to go soft, his breathing became more sporadic and the rattle got stronger. I moved up toward the head of the bed, and lifted him by the shoulders, placing his upper torso and head in my lap. I stroked his face and called his name again. A single tear fell from his left eye, and his left arm bent up, his hand stroked my arm like a feather, and then it fell limp. He took one last raspy gasp, and then released it. He didn't take another breath. His body fell limp, and then began to convulse. I tried to go over as much of his body as I could while he did, to feel as many of those muscles contract and release as I could. When he stopped moving completely, I rolled him over onto his face, and pulled his tight little bubble butt toward my pelvis. I had been hard since I pulled him onto my lap, so I plowed into his silky, tight, and still hot rectum. I could hear his cock slap his abs every time I pushed into him. When I finally popped my load, it was sheer ecstasy. I gently pushed him back down flat on the bed, and put my cock back into his anus. I wrapped my arms around him and laid there for quite awhile, not really wanting to let go, but as his body began to cool, I knew rigor would begin to set in, so I had to pull out. I rolled him onto his side and spooned the young hunk's corpse.
So that was what it was like to be with another man. I'd heard about it, read about it, seen it in movies, and even fantasized about it, but being over 50 and experiencing it "in the flesh", so to speak, for the first time was nothing short of amazing. Maybe I'll get to try it again someday. Now, what to do with Trevor? Hmmm ...
