Early Morning Strangers

The dogs always get me up really early; they need to go outside, they need to eat.  That’s okay as, typically, I try to get to work before 6:30 am.  It’s Tuesday, and I am up at 5:00 am, surfing the net - the dogs fed and let out a bit ago (and now, sleeping once more).   This is my time. My cell is next to me on the couch.  Looking over, I see the little icon for Grindr light up.

Yes.  I re-downloaded Grindr.  In March of this year I removed it from my old phone because I: 1/ thought it was a horrible waste of time, 2/ found it distracting (which makes me irritable), and 3/ based on my experience, the app attracts dudes with major ‘tudes, something I am unwilling to deal with.  You think you’re God’s gift to the gays?  You believe you should be treated like a fairy princess?  You feel your money / position / age / physical beauty give you the right to discriminate and treat others like crap?  Then we are not meant to occupy the same universe, let alone the same phone app.

But, I got a new phone!  So, I immediately made the same mistakes I had with the old one – namely, downloading Grindr.  As of this writing?  I’ve removed it again (but, we’ll see how long that lasts.)  I’m still not on Adam4Adam, Scruff, Growlr, or Manhunt, so… that’s progress, right?

Anyway, on this morning, that little icon grabbed my attention.  Turns out some dude wants to know ‘What’s up?  Gee, such an original opening gambit.  Should I… should I answer back?  After checking out his stats and his torso pic, I decide, what the hell.  In short order I learn that he’s up and he’s ‘up’; as in need of some serious head because his morning wood will not be satisfied any other way.

Well, fortunate for him, I’m the man for the (blow) job.

We make plans. I Google Map his address and we are good to go as soon as I hop in the shower and do my morning routine.  Twenty minutes later I let him know I am on my way.  The drive is short and sweet.  I find parking immediately.  He lives in one of those refurbished warehouse condo buildings featuring polished, colored concrete floors and lots of oversized, splashy graphic art.   He buzzes me in and I am riding up in the elevator in no time.

Answering the door immediately, he’s everything he promised: 5’10”, 165, bald, blue eyes, late thirties, and… hard as a rock!  That dick he’s sporting?  Sweet.  

However, something about his face strikes me; it’s utterly without character.  His head is perfectly shaped, his bald head the epitome of what one would hope for if one has to shave one’s head.  His eyes, lively, are set in his face as if simply placed there.  His lips are nice, breaking into a sweet, kind smile, but remain unexceptional.  The same could be said of his perfectly situated and sized nose.  His skin is smooth and without blemish or lines.  It’s one of the most perfectly anonymous faces I have ever seen.  If I tried to describe him to a sketch artist?  I’d be at a loss for words.

I remove my shoes and follow him back to his bedroom.  The place is spotless and looks like every other new condo I’ve ever been in. Is there a special catalog they order this stuff from?  The entryway table there, the sectional couch there, the three heavy ceramic canisters in varying muted smoky tones decorating the pristine kitchen counter there.  And why do these places always appear as if no one really lives there?  They’re always so sterile, picture-perfect with a noticeable absence of personality.

His bedroom is nice and dark, save for the light pouring from the open bathroom door.  He climbs on the bed and sprawls out right away.  There’s a monster waiting for me inside those white Calvin Klein’s and I can’t wait to set it free.   Stripping as fast as possible, I grab my poppers and my two favorite chrome cockrings.  This is to be a blow and go only, so I don’t have to worry about my ass (which, and I don’t know if you tops realize this or not, is always a dicey situation in the morning hours).  This frees me to enter the arena confidently, which means, my dick is hard before I get a knee on that bed.

Oh, and I might as well have not brought the poppers, for there’s no time. I get busy straightaway. Diving down, I take him all the way to the root.  His dick is a good 7.5”, but not all that thick, so it goes down smooth. Holding it there, deep in my throat, I concentrate on breathing through my nose.  His response is enthusiastic and very vocal.  Cool.  This is going to be fun.

Commenting on every sensation my tongue, lips, and throat manage to create, he’s very free with the compliments, I play with his nips as I suck.  Mr. Condo’s body is hairless and quite nice.  It’s obvious he goes to the gym and actually does a little something other than sit in the sauna.  His arms, in particular are very nice.  As our session progresses, it dawns on me that his body is very much like his condo – perfectly maintained; sterile, even.  So, as flawed as I am, I’m amazed he doesn’t find fault with me.  Maybe he has separate standards when it comes to other people. 

Not only is he enjoying my lip service, he’s also exploring the rest of my body.  And, fortunately, he likes what he sees.  Almost immediately, my ass ends up getting a lot of attention, to the point that I am thinking he would fuck me if I pushed that button.  But, due to the reason stated previously, that is not going to happen. 

By this point Mr. Condo’s moved us into a 69-type position.  And while my cock is getting its fair share of attention, he is not a cocksucker.  That’s cool.  I’m used to scenes where no reciprocation is forthcoming.

Before I know it, he’s in a plank position over me, fucking my face upside down.  Now this works for me due to his lack of thickness. If his dick was thick or really thick, there would be a lot more resistance in play, making things a bit uncomfortable.  Nice thing about this position?  I get to play with his ass and balls, both of which are smooth and lovely to the touch.  My tongue strays to his ball sack, which I relish, taking each one in my mouth individually.  I contemplate eating his ass, but reminding myself of the hour and the well-defined activities of our original agreement, decide to stick to the basics. 

Removing my mouth from his dick does not seem to be something Mr. Condo wants, either.  He hops off the bed before dragging me by my shoulders to the edge, so my head now hangs off the side.  Oh, I see where this is going.  He wastes no time fucking the hell out of my mouth and throat; his movements greedy, fervent.  I reach up behind him to cradle his well-toned buns in my hands, loving the feeling of the muscles flex with each thrust. 

Apparently he has a lot of energy at this hour.  We remain in this position until I feel my eyes well-up.  This is a definite indication that my limit has been breached, and, should we continue down this road much longer, my gag reflex will come into play.  Not my idea of a good time, so I close up shop and retreat to the center of his king-sized bed.

 

He’s on me in a matter of seconds, pushing me down, placing his full weight on top of me.  I like this.  Nuts to nuts, our primal instincts kick in as we begin grinding on each other.  Now, eye to eye, a kiss hangs in the tiny amount of space between our faces, as we continue to nut fuck one another.  Feels good.  And the kiss?  Even better.  I make the first move, raising my head slightly.  His lips melt onto mine instantly, tongue in throat deep - nothing tentative about it.

We remain this way far longer than one would expect for a blow and go.  And I can’t help myself, pulling Mr. Condo closer, holding him tightly, almost to the point of a bear hug.  I keep the pressure up until I feel his body relax and surrender.  It’s obvious he’s enjoying this, because his enthusiasm ramps up to a new high.  Wrestling with me, we switch positions.  Now I’m on top, and I find my pelvis banging into his like I am pounding ass.

But that’s not why I’m here.  And as good as it feels, it is not going to get this dude’s nut. Moving down his body, I assume the traditional place of a cocksucker.  Between his spread legs I work my magic.  Moving through my arsenal of tricks, I settle into alternating between sucking and palming the head of his dick.  With my other hand, I gather up and pull slightly down on his balls.  Mr. Condo’s gasping and writhing and I know it’s only a matter of moments.  Keeping with the hour, I worry that when he shoots, he’s going to be way too loud for my comfort.

But, no. 

Common sense prevails.  His body tense and straining, he holds my head and place, depositing the first of his seed deep in my throat.  I’m able to pull off his dick just enough to get a sense of how powerful his stream is for the second shot.  Sweet.  I imagine him shooting all over his own chest in the future. when alone, perhaps thinking of my hot mouth on his cock.

After the eighth shot, Mr. Condo begins to wind down.  He’s slightly sweaty, very warm, and his dick remains rock hard.  He allows me to nurse on it as I turn my attention to my own load.  It doesn’t take long.  Soon his abs are covered in my jizz.  If he minds, he never lets on. 

I lie next to him, nuzzling in.  He feels good.  His mood is relaxed, jovial.  It’s obvious to me that I’ve done a good job.  Words like ‘amazing’ and ‘fun’ float about, accompanied by the phantom allusion ‘next time’.  The words are his and I don’t bother reading much into them.  Though I do point out how conveniently located he is and how this time is perfect for my schedule, I know that this train will probably not be running through my town ever again.

Checking the time, I calculate that I will be a good half hour off my normal schedule.  That’s okay, I tell him.  Well worth it.  The compliments run both ways as I dress and gather my things.  No need to clean up much.  I’ll shower at the gym in a couple of hours. However, I do take a moment to gargle with the antiseptic mouthwash I always travel with. Eh, it can’t hurt.

Refreshed, Mr. Condo pulls on his Calvin’s before walking me to the door.  Embracing, I give him a peck on the cheek, thanking him once more.  The perfect host.  The perfect location.  The perfect activity partner.  No one the wiser; the perfect crime.

Riding down in the elevator, I struggle to remember his name.  No matter.  Because it doesn’t matter.  My mind shifts to the day ahead.  Where am I in my workout regimen?  Legs, today.  There’s a lunch meeting.  I hope it’s not pizza.  Salad would be nice.

The early morning sky is swiftly moving toward the palest of blue, dawn having crept in as we played.  The streetlights are still on, lending the world an odd theatricality.  Slipping my car onto the street, I anonymously meld into the flow of morning commuters and soon find myself absorbed by the coming day.

Morning diffuses into the mundane, as Mr. Condo swiftly dissolves to memory.  

Early Morning Strangers - Barry Manilow