Big Baby

        My first impression of him as I moved to skirt the bus queue was that he was near-chicken which was basic to my interest. His dark auburn hair was close-cropped and his square jaw sported a five-o'clock shadow, however. Another glance told me he had wide shoulders and a chest that complemented them.

Subsequent glances caught the ring in his eyebrow, the stud in his nose, the multiple rings and studs in both ears - all gold. And a girth that made me think of one of those monsters that played on the defensive team in American football. It didn't appear to be fat, but ...

Beyond the basic age factor then, he didn't fit my idea of what turned me on. For all I knew, the lad might proudly sport another ring through the head of his meat.

I slowed my gait, however, and took my time passing him and the queue. I noticed he was trying to be covert about his cruising; but twenty something years of being in the scene had given me a second insight for such things. The lad's hazel eyes were definitely watching me.

I permitted myself to debate this thing as I came abreast of him. I was just arrived in Atlanta. I hadn't even found a flat and didn't know a single soul - much less one with whom I'd want to go to bed.

I was forty years old and, as I considered my options, I realised I was bleeding horny. The lad might well prove an interesting diversion - even if the visibly embedded jewellery and the oversized trousers told me he wasn't what I considered to be my type.

He started pulling on his fingers. The action put both his hands over the crotch of his jeans and, of course, pulled my eyes to that part of his anatomy. I smiled. The come-on was the same - no matter whether it was Atlanta, San Francisco, New York, Berlin, Paris, Moscow, or London.

The lad was in heat. He gazed directly at me. Interest coupled with unadulterated speculation blatantly showed in his eyes. I smiled at him as I slowly passed him.

Footsteps followed me immediately on the walk behind me. I couldn't resist smiling to myself. The grin on my face became knowing. I knew it; I was even a bit ashamed of myself - but I couldn't help myself.

"Mister!" he called just as I reached for the door of my hired car at the curb. I stopped and waited until he caught up to me.

The gold accoutrements sparkling under the midday sun didn't appeal to me - but, then, each of us does have the right to his own taste.

Did I want to invite him to my room? Now I was seeing him up close - his broad peasant face, his olive complexion - he definitely wasn't my type; and I knew what would happen if I did invite him over. My hormones, however, were saying "yes" loudly and resoundingly. In spite of what my educated tastes were telling me, there was no match - my hormones always proved tantamount.

"Why don't we go to my hotel room?" I suggested without preamble. He smiled knowingly and I found myself wondering how they became so jaded so young. I had been celibate much too long. And, at that point, I was as horny as he was. He was becoming more and more interesting with each passing moment.

* * *

I leant forward and he pushed back against the headboard of my bed. Our lips touched tentatively and quickly began to crush each other, our tongues immediately duelling for supremacy. My fingers moved to take possession of his nipples through his tee-shirt.

That wasn't enough. My hands quickly pulled it from his jeans, forcing the cloth toward his chest and the shoulders beyond. His barrel-shaped abdomen was solid under my fingers and I ignored the soft fur that covered it. His wide chest seemed a primeval forest of hair as my fingers returned to his nipples to claim full possession of them. His shirt bunched at his neck until he could rid himself of it.

We broke the kiss, conceding a stand-off in our tongues' struggle, and he stuck a leg out to me. I stared at the scuffed work-boot while he pulled the shirt over his head. "Take them off," he commanded.

He wore three pairs of socks. The other foot proved to have the same number covering it. My pole stopped at half-mast beneath my trousers. My curiosity continued to grow, requiring satisfaction before it would permit me to continue on in our headlong flight to sexual union.

"Why three pairs?" I asked, allowing my curiosity to get the better of the moment.

"I don't want to get blisters." He looked down along his chest at me apologetically. "The boots are too big - but they were cheaper than anything else I saw at K-Mart."

I smiled. "Sounds logical," I said as I worked his zip and ignored the question of why he would have boots larger than his feet.

My eyes surveyed his abdomen and moved up to his chest. The ankh piercing his navel glittered up at me.

I peeled back the panels of his jeans and learnt he wasn't wearing underwear. His meat sprang out at me - a puma freed of its cage and pleasantly free of gaudy implements. I pushed the folds of denim away and roughly pulled the jeans down in front.

He was bloody big - long, thick, and cut. I finished undressing him, all the while forcing myself to ignore his most outstanding feature.

My lips and tongue went exploring when he lay naked before me, with the intent to learn all of him. I found stubble roughing my lips as I neared his thatch.

I gripped his manhood in one hand as my lips spread across the wide mesa of his helmet. I caught his purse up with my thumb. He had shaved there as well. I was finding stubble sprouting everywhere.

I pulled back, blinking. Whilst I didn't like masses of hair, I preferred soft fur to stubble. Incongruity and libido were incapable of being soul-mates in me. Curiosity threatened the mood.

Still, I proceeded, spreading his muscular thighs and letting my tongue do the walking, my own pole still controlling my thinking for me.

My tongue found a strange taste mixed with more stubble as it began to explore beneath his purse. My eyes opened in surprise. It was familiar - but decidedly not for this part of a body.

"What've you got on down here?" I mumbled, giving vent to my surprise and glancing up to watch him answer, my libido losing a bit of its interest to my curiosity.

He grinned down at me. "I rubbed in a little dab of toothpaste. I like a clean minty scent down there, you know."

I ducked back down between his legs, more to hide my amusement than to make him any hotter.

He grunted and his hips ground, his thick thighs closing to grip my jaw in their vise. The index finger of my free hand found his arselips and slipped past them; he bucked as I ascended his shaft with my tongue, exploring its every nook and cranny.

A second finger penetrated his lovechute as my tongue reached the helmeted apex of his meat. "Oh, God!" he cried as my digits reached his prostrate and began to massage it roughly. He bucked and nine inches of thick, cut US prime shoved past my tonsils.

"Oh, Jesus! It feels so good!" I gagged reflexively but took everything he shoved into me. "Take it all!" he grunted in a rasp. He looked down his naked body, his eyes glazed. "I want you to fuck me."

I was too busy handling his dick in my throat and massaging his love gland to answer him. Again, nothing else mattered - I wanted him to come. Then, yes, I'd do what I liked doing best. But, until then, I was going to nibble and slurp on his fountain of youth. It was his best feature and I wanted the taste of it more at that moment than I wanted to get off myself.

Too soon, his body stiffened beneath me. His breathing grew more ragged. He moaned continuously and ground his body against my face as I buried my nose in his pubes time after time.

"I'm gonna shoot," he groaned finally, stiffening even more and beginning to hump my face. I pulled off him and began seriously to nibble at his shaft.

"Oh, God!" he growled. I felt his thick helmeted head grow even thicker against my cheek as he humped himself against my face. His rigid ham hocks squeezed my neck, and it was as if rigor mortis had taken him over. I was being strangled. I was in sudden need of air as he blasted volley after volley of boy juice past my ear and over my shoulder.

I quickly and noisily learnt to breathe once again as his thigh muscles unlocked. He tried to pull away blindly, his dick too sensitive now for what my tongue and lips were still doing to its shaft.

He humped my finger working his prostate. "Jesus!" he mewled like a kitten. "Wow!"

"That hit the spot?" I asked as I sat up and looked down at him lying across my bed.

"You'd better believe it." He grinned up at me. "I can't wait till you're fucking my hole good with a lot more than just your fingers." He looked at me speculatively, grinding his arse against my fingers inside him. "You do want to pork me, don't you, honey?"

I arched my brows at him. It was exceedingly rare I turned down a piece of arse - especially when I was with the chap and he was already naked and asking for it. "Of course," I answered. "Are you in a hurry?"

He grinned and pulled away. "You'd better believe it! My hole's hungrier than a bear that's hibernated all winter. And what I suspect is in those pants of yours would sure feel good." He slid his backside across the bed to the edge where I was sitting and watching him.

His fingers moved across the face of my trousers and found me. My mast grew even harder as his fingers worked at it through the cloth and his eyes grew large. "You're really big," he mumbled as he started to open my fly.

"I would think you liked them big," I offered as his fingers slid in under the elastic of my y-fronts.

"Yeah." He glanced back up at me as his fingers found me. "I sure do, honey. The bigger the better."

He pulled down the front of my briefs and gazed at my manhood snaked across my hip and peeking from its cowl. He smiled at its size and mentally gauged the fit of it between his arselips.

He stuck out his tongue and I shivered as the warm wetness of his mouth enveloped me. "Get out of those clothes, honey!" he demanded, sitting up on his haunches and staring down at me. I stood up, permitting my trousers to bunch at my ankles. I pushed my y-fronts down to meet them a moment later. I was standing at the side of the bed naked and looking down on him.

A grin split his face. "I do ever more love lace. Come back to me, honey!" he commanded. "I can hardly wait." His eyes were fixed on my best feature and he licked his lips in anticipation.

"Oh, yeah!" As I climbed onto the bed, his fingers encircled my jutting manhood, hooding its foreskin back over its head. "Nice and big." He looked up into my face and grinned again.

His lips searched for mine and found them as his fist girding my pole began to stroke it. His tongue went deep, demanding immediate supremacy. His arms went around my chest and he began to fall back against the mattress, pulling me with him.

My hand instinctively began to search for him and found him without a major detour. His manhood was as hard as it had been when I was sucking it into oblivion. Part of me was surprised the lad had such abundant restorative powers - but I ignored it. He was on his back against the mattress and I was almost on top of him. His legs were already riding my flanks in anticipation of my entry into him.

"Fuck me!" he moaned through clinched teeth as he stared up at me across the inches separating our faces.

His hand gripping my meat tried to guide me to him. Our dicks duelled for a moment before mine was pulled roughly away from his and became enmeshed with his jewels before being led to his welcoming arselips.

His eyes opened wide as a new thought crashed over him, and he stared up at me as if I was about to hammer a nail into his personal saviour. "You got a raincoat for this thing?" he demanded hoarsely.

"No." I looked down at him, feeling his lips grasping blindly across the face of my manhood for the feel of it inside it.

"There's one in my jeans - I always carry one. Hang on!" He became a blur of motion as he pushed me away from him and sat up. Reaching to the floor beside the bed, he found his jeans and fished out a foil packet. He turned back to me with a knowing grin on his face as he held the thing up for both of us to see.

He brought it to his mouth and gripped its edge in his teeth. Lying back, he pulled it open and rapidly lifted out the condom, a smile of triumph on his face. "Get between my legs again, honey. I'll get this thing on you and we can get back to where we were before we were so rudely interrupted."

He made putting it on a sexual turn-on, playing with my bollocks, making me even harder than I had believed possible. He grinned as he caught pubic hair inside the ring of rubber. "We're gonna have to trim you later, honey."

"Yeah." Yanks say the funniest things in the heat of a moment; it's no wonder the French think of them as horrid lovers.

"Come to papa," he demanded, holding out his arms to me and, as I drew close enough, raising his legs and resting the back of them against my chest.

I was guiding myself in this time. I avoided futile duels and blind fumblings by finding his pucker as I pressed his thighs back against his body. He opened quickly to greet my entry. He grunted as inch after inch of prime John Bull slid through his welcoming muscle.

His grunts turned to low moans as I massaged his love gland as part of my passage into his lovechute.

"Sweet Jesus!"

"Feel good?"

"Oh, yeah!"

"Want more?"

"There's more?" His eyes opened and he stared at me with wide orbs. I nodded. "Give me all of it!" he cried and I shoved the last two or three inches into him and tickled his bollocks with my pubes.

"There ain't nuttin' finer than havin' a cock inside ya in the mornin'," he crooned and smiled up at me as his hands grabbed my backside, pulling me tight against him as he ground his bottom against me.

He was good. And experienced. It wasn't just his sphincter gripping at my meat as it moved inside him. It was each and every muscle grabbing at me as I pushed into him. And pulling at me as I retreated. I could even feel it through the condom he so enticingly placed on me. He moaned and grew louder with each new thrust. His fingers on my arsecheeks had become talons of steel, gripping me without thought of pain as they guided my movement.

I was moving inside him slowly. We had been moving against each other as easily as old lovers completely accustomed to each other's needs. His eyes flew open beneath me, wide and staring.

"I - oh, shit!" he rasped. "I'm close, honey. Oh, Jesus, give me all of it!" His fist was suddenly flying up and down his pole when I glanced between us. He tensed every muscle in his body as he went over the edge.

I thrust as deeply as I could, grinding my groin against the back of his thighs and grinning to myself as the first molten glob erupted from his love tube. "Oh, God!" he gasped.

I continued to grind against his bottom, meeting his every move and permitting him to relish this moment. He focused his eyes on my face. "Don't stop!" he grunted. "Keep on - plough my ass. Oh, mother, that's fuckin' incredible!" He milked a small rope of jizz out of the widened slit on his pole.

"Make me come again, honey," he demanded moments later as I continued to move in him, his eyes pleading with mine. "Please?" he gave voice to his need.

I pulled out of him slowly and smiled. "You want more?" I asked. He nodded as a child in a candy store would. I rammed back into him and he yelped in shocked pleasure.

His muscles continued to pull on me, carrying me toward the inevitability of my own edge and beyond. But he came twice more before I would allow him to pull me over it.

He kissed me as I rolled over his leg and fell on the bed, wiped out, perspiration running off me in streams. I was weak from the fire of the orgasm and what it had taken out of me. "You bring out the best in me," he whispered in my ear as his hands caressed my body. "You're better than any of the fucking johns I've been stuck with this past year."

Despite my stupor, his words forced me to strive toward comprehension. "Johns?" I demanded slowly. I wasn't totally ignorant of American idioms - I was fairly certain I knew what the word meant.

"Yeah. Shit! I've been hustling just to support myself this past year." He grinned at me. "You're better than all of them."

"Hustling?" I asked as I saw naked men crawling between his legs one after the other in an endless stream.

"You don't mind, do you, honey?" he asked hesitantly, almost suspiciously. "I've got to live, you know."

"Do I need to pay you?" I asked, meeting his eyes with difficulty.

His eyes grew large as he stared at me. "Hell, no! You were good - and I was needing a good fuck so bad." He reached out and took my hand in his. "We need to do a lot more of this, honey."

"Maybe," I answered slowly, beginning to work my way through my feelings on sex for hire. In more than twenty years of sexual activity, I had never had a rent boy. "But you're going to have to give me some time to recuperate - and make a trip to the bathroom."

Relieving myself with a closed door safely separating us, I quickly came face up with my feelings for rentboys. I had seen cute young things as well as hunky lads with older - well, less attractive men - in every city I had lived. I had guessed the arrangements between those couples held a financial edge to them. But my image of a rent boy was still a scruffy, underfed lad with dirty hair and needing a bath. One who thought he needed to be paid by a chap for providing temporary lodging for his dick. Or a piece of poof who had swished the first step he took at his mum's knee.

This one wasn't scruffy and his butch cut seemed clean. For that matter, except for the stubble and toothpaste, so had his body. He had a tool to keep gay lads the world over wanting to provide it temporary lodgings; yet, he seemed hell-bent on ignoring his endowment and staying impaled on what I sported. He was definitely more in the young John Tunney mould than J. Edgar's with his tutus in Truman's Washington - except for the jewellery sprouting across his face.

And he had been emphatic about not wanting payment.

I smiled to myself. A night of serious randiness with this strange baby might be worth it to my equilibrium. I'd pat him on his nicely rounded derriere in the morning and put him out of my life - but, in the meantime, I could make a major start on getting caught back up on my woefully neglected sex life.

"I think we might get something to eat. Are you hungry?" I offered as I exited the bathroom and began to approach the bed. If nothing else, I might find out why he shaved himself but let stubble grow untended - and why he had rubbed toothpaste under his bloody bollocks. It shouldn't take more than the night to put his incongruities to bed.