So it’s 3:00 in the morning, and Joe and I are walking to our cars parked in front of Shanghai Express on Hillsborough Street. There are two guys — a taller black guy, and a shorter white guy — standing in the driveway to the underground garage of Western Lanes, in front of the gate that is pulled down and locked so you can’t park in there overnight.
Before I can pull out of my spot, the white guy comes over toward my car and motions me to open the window or door. “Hey man, I’d be so grateful for a ride, man.” He’s got a black goatee and stubble on his cheeks. My type.
I hesitate for a negative second, and cautiously let him in. “I’m going to my pop’s house in Cary, man, but I don’t know how to get there. He and my stepmom just moved here a week ago. I know it’s in the Wessex subdivision in Cary. When we get to Cary, I can run into a gas station and ask for more directions.”
This young man is from NYC, a grad student in Physics, 28-years-old, and straight. His girlfriend is Indian — as in from India, and she’s in NYC.
“Man, I appreciate this so much. That guy that was talking to me, he’s a homeless guy. He was nice enough. I gave him a couple a bucks earlier, so he was being nice to me. I called a cab, but they said it would be about 25 minutes before they could get there. I really appreciate this man. I want to thank you somehow — I’ve got about $200 in my wallet.”
“I don’t want your money,” I said, and said again at least four times before we finally found his parents’ house after stopping at two gas stations for “further direction.”
Each time, he said, “Well, man, I gotta give you something.”
In the course of the conversation, I told him that I was gay. He said he had some gay friends and it’s no big deal. I told him I had been married for 16 years, and he was blown away by the number of years. “Good for you, man, for finally come to terms with who you are, and living your life that way now.”
When we finally reached his pop’s (I loved how he kept calling him “my pop”), he was in the middle of a story about his grandmother and his aunt, and said, “Man, do you mind if we just sit here a bit? You’re a really nice guy, and I’m enjoying talking to you. God, I’m probably boring the hell out of you, aren’t I?”
I assured him that he was not. He finally finished his story, and it got real quiet. I just let it be quiet. And he said, “Man, what can I do for you to thank you?” and he swallowed hard.
I said to him, “You are absolutely adorable.”
He said, “Man, my heart is pounding like crazy right now.”
I said, “What I would really like to do is kiss you.”
He shook his head back and forth a little, looking straight ahead, and said, “You know I’ve thought of some things, but I’ve never wanted to kiss a guy. That’s not something that appeals to me.”
“That’s fine,” I said. “I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do or anything that’s going to make you uncomfortable.”
“I’ll give you a handjob, man, if you want one,” he said looking at me now.
Staring back into his eyes, I nodded my head, and whispered, “Yeah, I’d like that a lot.”
I was still sitting up in the seat at this point, and pulled my dick out. He leaned over toward me and put his strong hand on my weak flesh. He touched me. Rubbed me. As I became aroused, and he started jacking me off, he leaned his head down on my chest. I rested my chin on the top of his head so that his head was nestled in my neck.
He breathed deeply. I sighed. He pumped. I moaned, holding it back, wanting to enjoy it — not wanting to cum too quickly.
After a few minutes, I put my hand on his working fist, squeezed it to a stop, and said, “Just a minute.”
“Did you cum?” he asked a little panicky as if he might have missed something.
“No, not yet,” I said thinking, “You have no idea what a screamer I am. There won’t be any doubt about it when I’ve come.” Instead I said, “Are you okay doing this here? Would you like me to drive a little away from your parents’ house?”
“No, it’s fine here.”
I reclined my seat some, pulled my pants down to my knees, my shirt up to my chest, and he got better situated.
He started back up with his hand, and he didn’t take his eyes off my cock for one second. Just kept staring at it the entire time. Slowed his hand down, and pushed the skin on my cock up to the head slowly, and then held it there. I oozed. He sighed.
He started jacking again then, picking up the speed. I felt that wave starting deep in my nuts and knew it was time. I verbalized what was happening, he pumped even faster, and I shot all over my stomach and chest, and his eyes didn’t miss a drop of it spewing all over me.
“Thanks, man,” I said.
“No, thank you,” he replied, and I watched him walk up the driveway to his pop’s house.