Postby NYCGay » Sun Jun 06, 2021 5:29 pm
It’s been a weekend of firsts: first bike ride since surgery (just a mile, for transportation, not exercise, but it’s nice to know that I can sit on a bike saddle again), first visit to the gym (I felt more winded than usual while warming up on the treadmill, and I used light weights, not to overdo anything, but it felt good), and, more importantly, last night I had the first sex with my new equipment.
I was horny yesterday and had decided to tell my partner that night that it was time to start exploring sex with my new powers, but cautiously, since I’m still sore. No rough, energetic sex, just some leisurely mutual jacking and blowing perhaps, all depending on how things felt and if it caused me pain. But that’s not how it turned out.
We were are at a dinner party in the beach town where we have a house: eleven gay guys, among them a good-looking couple I hadn’t met before. The younger one had just turned thirty and had the rugged handsomeness of a stereotypical lumberjack: dense, dark beard that went high up on his cheeks, thick eyebrows, deep brown eyes, and thick fur showing over the neckline of his tanktop. But he had the lithe physique and slender muscularity of a ballet dancer, which turned out to be what he was. As he told me about his profession, I realized that I’ve heard of him and his boyfriend before: both of them into daddies and with a tendency to cause a stir wherever they show up. I would have considered them both out of my league, but then again, from a gay, sexual perspective, I am certainly a daddy.
And Mr. Lumberjack/Ballet Dancer did indeed seem quite flirtatious. At one point before dinner he moved over to sit next to me on the couch and let his bare leg press against me as we talked. Now, flirtatiousness if often just that: an entertaining game, a way of showing appreciation and checking if it is reciprocated, just for the fun of it. You can be flirtatious with ten people in one night without necessarily wanting to take it to the level of having sex with any of them.
But while we engaged in this game, I thought about how my situation has changed, or at least is in the process of changing. I didn’t quite feel ready for sex with new partners yet: my pubes have only just started growing back, which causes a weird-looking contrast between the hair above my bellybutton and the short stubble below. Also, being so physically inactive and indulging in any food I want has made me add an inch and a half of flabbiness around my waist. I need to get rid of that again and get my pubes back. But that will happen soon enough, and then, having the implant, I can dare persue any handsome man I want without the fear that I might actually succeed. If I succeed, there will be expectations on my performance, which before I would have the greatest difficulty of living up to, even with the pills and the injections. Better to just flirt a little and then call if off.
After the dinner, we went to the town’s gay club, at a hotel, with a bar by the pool. Someone in our company said that Mr. Lumberjack/Ballet Dancer and his boyfriend looked so much like my partner and me, just a younger version of us: my dark, Middle-Eastern partner being the older version of Mr. Lumberjack/Ballet Dancer, and me the older version of his dirty-blond, slightly older boyfriend. I found this enormously flattering.
Let’s say, hypothetically, that someone might have treated me to a little ecstasy, which always makes me want to either dance or make out, or both. All of us were shirtless now (I hoped that the lack of hair between my bellybutton and the waistband of my shorts wouldn’t be noticeable, but keeping my shirt on would have seemed odd.) I rubbed the hairy chests of both the younger guys, and kissed them both, and so did my partner.
The guys wanted to come home with us -- which at this point didn’t seem the least bit surprising. I didn’t think I was ready for that, but then again: why not? So I told them both, first one and then the other, with my arm around their bare shoulders, that I had recently had surgery; I had a penile implant, and I had not yet used it for sex and might have to be a little cautious. Also, my pubes were shaved.
They were as nice as they could be, and totally unfazed. We took a car back to our place, got undressed and made out in the hot tub. I pumped up in the water, horny and high and unembarrassed. The dirty blond (the younger version of me), said he wanted to sit on my dick, so we went upstairs to the bed. I lay on my back, pumped myself a little harder, lubed up, and he slid down onto me. No injection, no need to firmly squeeze the base of my cock in order to make the end firm enough for penetration, and no eye on the clock to check how much time I had left at my disposal. I leisurely thrusted into him, wondering if I wouldn’t somehow soften and slip out after all, but of course I didn’t.
Later, I was fucked by Mr. Lumberjack/Ballet Dancer. I felt good about being able to be hard while he fucked me, though, to be honest, he didn’t really seem to pay my dick much attention, but rather seemed focused on just pumping my ass.
I never came. The chemical influence makes that difficult for me, but also makes if feel less necessary. It’s just such a pleasure to touch and be touched, to fuck and be fucked, and the endpoint of a climax seems almost irrelevant. I do eroticize jizz though, but while I couldn’t offer any of my own last night, both the younger guys did, and I lapped up the cum of one and shared it in a kiss with the other.
Right now, I am very happy that I had the surgery.
Last edited by
NYCGay on Mon Jun 07, 2021 6:01 am, edited 1 time in total.
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