Horsing Around

The City:
Sunday night. I saw him at the end of the bar. He sat alone, sipping a tumbler of scotch and ice. He looked like a square peg in a round hole, obviously out of his element in the sleek piano bar on west Forty-Sixth Street. The crowd that night was typical, overdressed and bored as they sat at tiny chrome tables clustered around the big ebony grand. The patrons were mostly older men in flannel and silk, sitting opposite fresh-faced boys sipping pink martinis. I really didn’t fit in here myself but I love piano music, so I occasionally found myself gathered among the affectation in order to listen to Bobby Jackson, the cabaret pianist. One of my greatest disappointments in life is that I never learned to play myself.

I couldn’t help staring at the man. He looked to be around forty, maybe six feet tall, muscular but not huge, like an athlete or a swimmer. The man wore a simple white button-down oxford shirt and a pair of black jeans. I looked down to his cowboy boots: not shiny, out-of-the-box new boots but scuffed and cracked with years of hard use and wear. I wondered what he did for a living. His head was freshly shaved, and glowed softly in the dim lights of the lounge. His handsome face was covered in a shadow of whiskers, thickening around his full lips in a brushy goatee. I noticed soft brown curls at his throat, a tantalizing hint of the hairy chest hidden beneath. He lifted the amber liquid to his mouth and gulped down the last of his drink. 

The bartender poured him another, and Frankie the waiter picked it up to deliver to the man.

“Let me take that!” I said to Frankie. He looked at me and chuckled. He knew what was going through my mind. I had to meet him, find out more about the lonely mystery-man.

I placed the drink down on his table. He thanked me and offered a twenty. “This one’s on me, if that’s okay!” I said. “I’m Michael. May I join you for a while?” 

The man looked up in surprise, then amusement. “Um, sure, I guess…why not?” He smiled, and pulled back the empty chair for me to sit. “Daniel…call me Dan.”

Dan had a beautiful smile. His rugged face became enchanting as his lips curled and perfect dimples formed on each sunburned cheek, like apostrophes around his mouth. I sipped on my beer as we sat quietly listening to Bobby coax Cole Porter and Gershwin from the grand piano. Between sets, I discovered Dan lived on Long Island, and owned a stable and riding academy somewhere in the north fork. This explained the boots: they were the real-deal, honest riding boots that saw the stirrup daily. I longed to open Dan’s shirt and touch that hidden treasure, the soft whorls of hair on his expansive, muscular chest.

We left the bar together, strolling uptown to the Hilton at Fifty-sixth where Dan was staying. I felt a little cheap. Sex on the first date and in a hotel room no less, but I didn’t know if I would ever see him again and had to know what it was like to be with such a broad-shouldered and virile stud. We entered his room on the thirtieth floor, the stunning skyline of Manhattan’s west side glittering in the windows like diamonds scattered across the horizon. He surprised me by pulling me into his arms and pressing his lips on mine. I returned his kiss, exploring his mouth with my tongue as he brushed his wiry beard on my lips.

“I got a confession to make, Michael.” He said calmly, as our lips separated and I gasped for air. “I ain’t ever been with a man!” I laughed, and then realized he was serious. “I’m just now gettin’ divorced, we was together for twenty years.” I wasn’t sure if I believed him, he seemed so comfortable with me, showing intimacy so easily. “I fucked women all my life, but never a man. I don’t know what to do next, but I wanna do this!”

We stripped and stretched out together on the king-size bed. I felt the cool sheets under us as we caressed, touching and exploring each other’s body. He was magnificent; my fantasy man lay next to me in all his glory! His muscular arms wrapped around me, extending from wide, powerful shoulders. His chest was as hairy as I had hoped, covered in a dense mat of rich coffee-colored hair that swirled in rings around his nipples. His belly was flat and rippled with muscle, the trail of fur continuing into a thick bush of pubic hair and a perfect cock. He was immediately erect from the moment we undressed, and his dick stood proudly in the air like a flagpole. I reached down to hold it, and Dan moaned softly. 

“Michael, I…I don’t know…I mean, oh shit!” He stammered. My heart melted. The man was uncertain, but I knew he wanted me, wanted to share himself with me and finally experience what he had only dreamed about, sex with a man. I took control, and slowly eased down his torso until my head lay on his fuzzy stomach, my face hovering just above his crotch. I teased the tip of his throbbing cock with my tongue, flicking lightly at the bead of pre-cum that glistened on the thick head. He reached down, stroking my blonde hair and grasping my neck with his calloused hands.

I never did cum that night. He was gentle and endearing, and when he ejaculated in my mouth it tasted sweet. I thoroughly enjoyed giving him head, and he was a very generous cummer, filling me with his thick creamy load. I swallowed hard, taking him into my belly. We lay in an embrace for a couple hours, kissing and touching each other. He fondled my cock hesitantly, but I didn’t push him. Eventually I heard him snoring softly. I quietly pulled myself from his arms and dressed. I wrote my phone number on the Hilton stationery next to the bed just before slipping out into the night. I was leaving it up to him if we ever met again.

The next day I sat in my kitchen, gulping my second cup of coffee and toying with a piece of bran toast. I thought about Dan, and his awesome body. I figured I would never see him again, just one of those “curious” straight guys, already regretting his flirtation with gay sex. I gave him one damn fine blowjob, and at least he would always remember how good that was!

The buzzer snapped me out of my musing. I jumped up to answer the door. It was a flower delivery, a big display of orchids, tropical blooms and fern leaves, and way over the top (I prefer simple roses or wildflowers). Placing them on the coffee table, I read the card:

DEAR MICHAEL,
I’M SO SORRY FOR TAKING ADVANTAGE OF THE SITUATION. I WOULDN’T BLAME YOU IF YOU DIDN’T WANT TO SEE ME AGAIN, BUT PLEASE KNOW THAT THIS IS ALL NEW TO ME. I AM NOT USUALLY SO SELFISH.
D.

Damn, this man was something special. How could I be upset with him? He didn’t force me to suck his cock. I was aware of his inexperience; it was my choice not to force him to do something he was uncomfortable with. I felt a chill in my spine as the telephone rang.

“Michael?” He sounded so sexy, his deep baritone humming in my ear. “It was amazing last night. I can’t even explain to you what it meant to me. I never thought…that is, I haven’t ever…well you know. I am very glad I met you and that you...oh fuck, I ain’t very good at this, am I?” he stammered, frustrated that he couldn’t say what he was feeling.

He was back east, on Long Island. He had just gotten in the door and he picked up the phone to call me. I already longed to have him in my arms again, to feel his soft furry chest pressed against my smooth skin. I immediately agreed when he asked me to come out to his horse stables next weekend.

The Country:
Saturday morning. The Long Island Railroad train bumped and rattled as it sped through the sleepy bedroom communities of the south shore. Baldwin, Freeport, Merrick, Babylon…meaningless names, towns I would never see populated by people I would never know. Finally, the train pulled into Montauk, and I saw Dan waiting for me at the small brick and slate station. He looked incredible. His shaved head glinted in the crystal-clear sunlight. Tight blue jeans and his scruffy black boots, an open plaid shirt layered over a white wifebeater. His beefy biceps stretched the faded fabric of the sleeves, and I could see the magnificent hair on Dan’s chest from the train window. He stood next to a Honda motorcycle, and held two helmets in his hand.

I clung to Dan, my arms wrapped around his sturdy waist as we sped north, the little bike whining as we wound through the countryside. Woods of aspen and birch gave way to open fields, an occasional farm stand selling local corn and tomatoes. We rounded a bend and slowed down. A white rail fence stretched as far as you could see alongside the road. I saw horses grazing in the field, flank deep in rich green grass and purple chicory. A spotted foal pranced around a russet mare, chasing its mother’s tail. The Honda grumbled loudly as we downshifted into a driveway, edged with cypress and leading up the grade to a stone farmhouse. I could see the Long Island sound sparkling on the horizon behind the hill. The horses ran along the fence, following us to the end of the cul-de-sac. I was enchanted, it seemed unreal.