Life Goes On…

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Everyone has a quiet place. A place where you feel safe, where you can sit with your thoughts and your feelings. If you don’t have one, I recommend that you find one. For me, that place is just a few blocks off campus, a coffee house. I like going there late in the afternoon. I can relax with my favorite book, study or just enjoy my favorite drink. I can unload my mental baggage.

I always sit in the same spot in front of the big bay window. At a table that provides me with a perfect view of the park that sits on the west side of campus. A heavily wooded park with its perfectly trimmed bushes and hedges. Park benches symmetrically placed along the long walkways. Its large well-kept majestic trees creating a perfect canopy for a perfect shade from early morning to late afternoon. Beyond that, majestic old college buildings sprinkled between the new shiny towering ones.

It’s at that spot that I have found my safe place. My peace. My comfort zone away from everyone and everything…

I haven’t been out in months but I do like coming here in the late afternoons. I’ve thrown myself into my studies and I quit soccer. Once word got out to everyone that my sexual preference had changed, everything else changed.

Growing up soccer was my passion, my love. I was highly recruited out of high school by colleges and pro teams. I chose college. So why did I quit? Because once the soccer world discovered my sexual preference, they quit on me. It seems that not very many professional teams are interested in having the first openly gay athlete on their squad.

I had one year left in college and I completely lost the love for the game. Seems here lately I’ve lost the love for almost everything. I lost my boyfriend because he was in the same boat as I was. Except his stage is much bigger. He’ll be drafted number one in the upcoming NBA draft and he stood to lose millions. So, he did the smart thing, he dropped me.

I spend a lot of time on myself now. Studies, martial arts, and my sanity. I didn’t move back home with my parents when Ty left me. I still live in my sister’s posh apartment building. My parents have known almost from the beginning and they’ve been a great help. Because of them, I can afford the pricey apartment.

I make fun of my dad because I think it hurt him more than it did me when Thomas disappeared. He liked Thomas, he used to tell me that Thomas would take care of me. That he would be good for me. I didn’t have the heart to tell my father that I wasn’t good for Thomas. That I’m the reason he left, I asked him to leave.

Now it’s just me. I think of Thomas from time to time. Everyone remembers their first. Years of chasing women and all of a sudden, I fall for a man. I just wish I could have stayed true to him. In the end, it was all just too much. The intensity of his life was just too much, I quit on him.

“There you go, babe.” The baristas voice breaking my thought as he sets my latte down in front of me.

“Thank you,” I respond, looking up at him with a polite smile.

I know he wants to say something else to me but for whatever the reason he never does. He just smiles and then slowly turns to go back to his station. It’s been like that for me for the past few months.

When Ty dumped me, I didn’t blame him for leaving me. Had he stayed with me, as I said, he probably would’ve lost millions on his first contract. Still…it hurt.

Ty wasn’t intense outside of the bedroom. He was just a big kid. Still is. Only a 19yr old man-child. A man-child that will be a multimillionaire in a few weeks. He still has a lot to learn about life. Honestly? Even if he had chosen to stay with me, I probably would’ve left him.

I think of Thomas and I think of Ty. They couldn’t have been more opposite. One was quiet and extremely intense. The other was like a big puppy that can’t sit still, always needing looking after. Both very handsome, one white and the other black.

Taking a sip of my drink I focus on the one thing that they both had in common. The bedroom. Both of these men knew how to fuck me. They knew how to make me squeal every time. I loved dressing up for them and making them crazy. I loved how their cocks stretched me, opened me…I smile. While they fucked me, I was in bliss. Every time, I was in bliss.

I can still imagine the feeling. The veins and ridges of their cocks as they slid in and out of me. How their cocks would flex when they dumped rope after rope of their thick creamy cum deep inside of me. The sweat of our bodies during our long fuck sessions. I say fuck session because that’s what they did to me. They fucked me; they didn’t make love to me.

Well, maybe Thomas did…another smile escapes me.

They both loved me on my knees with my chest and face buried into the mattress. My ass in the air. They loved pounding their long thick cocks deep into me or was that me that liked that? Who am I kidding? It was me. They loved grabbing my hips while they fucked me. Jerking me back to meet the powerful Beylikdüzü escort downstroke of their massive cocks. Oh, how those two loved my ass.

I never understood the term heart-shaped ass. Then I googled it, I saw the pictures. I get it now and yes; I have that ass…

Both of them loved kissing my ass and licking my asshole the way a straight guy eats pussy. Their tongues slathering my hole, their tongues darting in and out of my hole. Even now just sitting here thinking about it has my little cock dripping pre-cum.

I shouldn’t say this but my favorite nights with Thomas were the nights of his night terrors. I know, that’s bad. His PTSD would kick in and he would wake up in a sweat, sometimes screaming. Of course, I’d calm him down and we’d make our way out onto the balcony outside our bedroom.

I’d get him a drink and he’d eventually calm down. Once I knew that he was going to be ok I’d start kissing his neck and cooing in his ear. His hand caressing my creamy-white ass. I’d pull off my t-shirt leaving me naked on his lap. Instantly he’d start suckling my puffy nipples and I’d take his long thick cock in my hand.

I’d have to pull myself away from him before he could make my nipples hurt. Dropping to my knees I’d take that big cock head into my mouth and start sucking. What I was doing was drooling all over it. Making sure that my spit was lathering that marvelous cock. I’d get up and then turn around.

I’d back my ass up while spreading my ass cheeks, lowering myself. I’d feel that wonderful cock head on my hole. I’d take a deep breath and I’d push open my hole. Then I’d sit back taking every inch, deep, inside of me. After that, he was mine. I’d lean back against him. My tiny back against his massive chest. I’d reach up and wrap my arm around his neck to hold on.

My asshole was well trained after the first month with him. I could take him deep on the first stroke. Sitting on his cock was wonderful because I’d be in control. I’d tease him until he could no longer stand it. Some of those times he would just grab my legs and stand up. Holding me in his arms.

His strength was amazing. I would have my back to him and he would be standing, bouncing me off of his cock. Other times he would carry me back into the bedroom and throw me on the bed. Roll me on my back into the missionary position. He’d throw my legs over his shoulders and brutally fuck me.

I soon developed a taste for those brutal fuck sessions. The intensity and the power that he generated while slamming that thing in and out of me would make me blow my load almost instantly. A couple of those sessions caused me to miss class the next day. Because of the brutality. It would be a day or two for my beaten down ass hole to recover.

But oh, how I loved it then, how I miss it now. Ty’s cock was slightly longer and thicker but he could never match that intensity. Honestly, I miss Thomas. I don’t miss Ty…I miss that brutal fuck. I miss belonging to a real man.

Sitting there deep in thought I could feel my tiny cock dripping and feeling that urge to cry. Then just like that, life taps you on your shoulder, guiding you back to the present…

“Is this seat taken?” The voice startled me.

Quickly I wiped the corner of my eyes with my fingertips before glancing up. Running my hands through my hair and twisting it into an untied ponytail then letting it go. My hands falling to my lap. I casually turned and looked at all the empty tables in the room before looking up. For a moment I was confused with the older gentleman standing in front of me. Was he asking me for a chair?

“I’m sorry, were you speaking to me?” I replied.

I was barely able to get those words out. I had almost brought myself to tears and my panties were soaked from the pre-cum. Plus, the place was almost empty, was there no other place for this fucker to sit? I sat there with a slightly coy smile on my face, waiting for his response.

I can pull off the cute and innocent look like a champ…even if I am a wreck inside.

“Yes,” he replied cracking a very distinguished, very handsome smile.

“Just that we haven’t spoken in some time now and I thought maybe you could use some company.” He continued.

Instantly my brain went into overdrive…

“I know this guy?” I asked myself.

“Come on David! Who the fuck is this guy?” These thoughts playing over and over in my head.

“Jeez fuck! Who is this guy?!” Finally, I gave up. Screaming at myself inside my head was getting me nowhere.

Sitting there suffering through an uncomfortable moment of silence I blurted out a completely douchey response.

“Please forgive me but I meet a lot of people, your name is…” My head wanted to explode as I said those words.

“I meet a lot of people? Really? What a douche.” I thought to myself as I kicked myself in the ass.

I sat there very calm maintaining my composure and perfect posture. Not giving away the slightest hint of the battle raging inside Beylikdüzü escort of me.

“Duke, Duke Chiasson, I work with your father. We met at a dinner in his honor a while back.” Then it came back to me, the university dinner for my father!

I had just asked Thomas to give me some space a couple of days before that dinner. It was the night that I committed to Ty. My father was being recognized for something or another. My mother, Mary and myself had to attend a dinner in his honor at the university. That’s where I met Mr. Chiasson. Afterward, I met up with Ty and we spent one of our very first special nights together.

“Yes, I remember that night. I was dick whipped by a cock the size of my forearm. But please sit down.” I thought that. I thought that. I couldn’t say that, instead…

“Mr. Chiasson, yes sir, I remember you now,” I replied with a cute smile, a blink of my eyes as I politely offered my hand.

“Please, by all means, sit.” I don’t speak in a feminine voice. I speak in a normal tone but sometimes my words come out so…gay.

Mr. Chiasson reaching out to shake my hand. Instead of grabbing his hand in a full manly grip I offered him the tips of my fingers allowing him the privilege of touching me. I know, I know…I’m full of myself. Don’t judge. My voice may not be feminine. But my mannerisms? Completely different story…

“I’ve noticed that you come here a lot around this time of day.” We both politely laughed as he finished.

“Don’t worry I’m not stalking you.” That last part sounded like a lie and it sent a chill down my spine.

“I’m so glad that you aren’t stalking me,” I responded with a perfect boyish grin.

Taking a sip of my drink. I couldn’t help but wonder where all of this was going. He says he isn’t stalking me but yet, here he is. Still, I couldn’t help myself. I made sure to give Mr. Chiasson a perfect exhibition. Some sweet eye candy.

Although I don’t know why. Why was I giving him any attention at all? The simple fact that he is one of my father’s peers already disqualifies him from any future consideration. Then again, I could always use the practice. Lately, I have found myself talking to older gentlemen quite often so, why not?

Let’s see if Mr. Chiasson has any game…

Since my first encounter with Thomas, however long ago that was, and my subsequent embracing of who I am. I have made quite a transformation both physically and mentally. I have embraced my feminine side while maintaining my masculine athleticism. Translation? I allow myself to come across as feminine in certain instances but I have no problem defending myself physically.

I am first and foremost a man. But I love, love being feminine with the right guy. He has to be strong and confident. He has to be sure of himself. When I say I love being feminine it doesn’t mean that I’m flamboyantly gay.

I am rather conservative in the way I dress and keep myself. I have long dark blonde hair with just the right amount of platinum blonde highlights. I keep my hair shoulder length and always well kept.

My sister, Mary, who is also my best friend helps me. We do everything together which has helped me in developing my style. I don’t let her pick out my clothes because the bitch is crazy. If I was to allow her to dress me, I would be a flaming fag. She does, however, point me in the general direction and I go from there.

“If you were a real woman, you’d be a stuck-up little bitch!” That’s what my sister tells me, often.

To which I respond, “You could never be a bitch, big sister. Nope, you’re too busy being the perfect cunt.”

Mary can be quite the handful without trying very hard. But I love her and she loves me. Without her, I’d be lost at times. Through all of this mess, she’s the one that’s kept me sane. But we disagree on the stupid shit. That’s our relationship and we wouldn’t have it any other way.

She’s turned me on to her hairstylist, manicurist, masseuse, the whole package. Trust me without Mary I wouldn’t have a fucking clue about any of it. Being a guy is simple. Shit, shower, shave and out the door. What I was doing was a bit different and it takes a lot of work.

I’m only 5’6″ and everything I wear has to fit just right, especially around my waist, my hips. I have a flat stomach with a tiny waist attached to what some call a very nice ass. I love my well-toned legs and the perfect heart-shaped ass that they connect to. I work hard to keep it all looking good. I don’t have underwear. I have man panties. That’s what my sister calls them. Men’s underwear designed for men. But so much better, prettier and sexier than the boxer and jockey underwear that I used to wear.

When I’m with a friend my mannerisms tend to be a bit feminine. Especially if I’m in a relaxed setting speaking with someone that shows any hint of being a strong, confident man. At the same time when I take my private self-defense classes or go to the shooting range, you would never guess that I am what Escort Beylikdüzü I am.

Since my break up with Ty months back I haven’t been with anyone. I’ve flirted but I haven’t had sex in a while. Man do I miss sex…

Where was I? Flirt? Yes, I flirt a lot…

Flirting is an entirely different game. When approached by the right guy and in the right setting, I have been known to be a major league flirt. One might say that I am a borderline cock tease. I love talking to men and being vulnerable. Knowing that I’m expressing myself in a way that is so sweet and soft. I feel good inside because deep down inside that is who I am.

When a man appreciates me for me it makes me high. A man that compliments my hair or that notices my soft skin just by shaking my hand instantly has my attention. A man that compliments my smile or my eyes. I love all of that shit. I love it so much that I get an instant uncontrollable pre-cum drip while he’s talking to me.

But I can only take so much. When a man starts to compliment me on my beautiful full lips or toned legs or my perfect ass, I blush. Instantly. I blush because I know that what he means is…Those lips would look beautiful while you sucked my cock. Those legs would look good over my shoulders while I fucked you. That ass would look good riding my cock!

I will instantly change the subject when the conversation starts down that road. Now, don’t misunderstand me. I’m not offended by that kind of conversation, implied or literal. The problem is, it turns me on. Once I reach a certain point, I know that I can’t control myself. Once I reach that threshold, I can’t allow myself to crossover it. Because once I cross that line, I can’t say no. I become quite the slut.

Ever since Ty, I promised myself that I would not pass the point of no return without being sure that I wasn’t a onetime piece of ass. That was months ago, now, I’m starting to feel different. Have I mentioned that I miss sex?

Mr. Chiasson was proving to be very much the confident man and it wasn’t long before he had me in full bloom. The drip on my semi-erect cock was going steady. The conversation was so good that I lost track of the time. Indeed, Mr. Chiasson had proven himself to be quite clever, quite the flirty conversationalist.

Looking at my wristwatch I knew that I had to go. Plus, the fact that Mr. Chiasson was getting me closer and closer to the point of no return I knew that I needed to find a stopping point.

I want a hard cock; no, I need a hard cock inside of me. That much I do know. Just not from a man that knows my father on a first name basis…

“Oh, I know that look.” His voice bringing me back to reality.

He quickly starts to downshift and slow the conversation. He could tell by the way that I was starting to fidget, this ride was getting ready to stop.

“Yeah,” I replied sheepishly, partially biting my bottom lip then slightly puckering them before allowing my tongue to lick my lips. “I have a long day tomorrow and I need to head home.”

“Do you live far? If you’d like I can drop you?” He offered.

“You are a gentlemen sir but I will be fine. I don’t live far plus I like walking. But thank you.” Seductively blinking my eyes before standing up and looking into those wonderful brown eyes

Before he can respond, I make sure to give him one last thing to think about. I had a stack of papers that I had been working on in a folder. I go to place them back inside the folder, I accidentally drop the folder. Oh my, accidents do happen. The papers spilling out onto the floor. Mr. Chiasson begins to make a move to assist me.

“No please, I can be clumsy. I’ll get them,” I sheepishly explain.

Turning my back to him, I quickly squat down in front of him. I moved to my knees, sitting back on my heels. Not allowing him to get out of his chair. As I gathered the small mess that I had just created I knew that the entire time Mr. Chiasson would have a perfect view down the back of my jeans.

As jeans do when you are in that position they tend to ride down. Exposing a perfect view of the top of my creamy white hips and my precious crack that splits them. He also had a clear view of the top of my black, stretch lace mini shorts panties. I slowly stand up and pause, for just that split-second. A pause so he can get a good look at my nice firm ass, up close at eye level. My ass right in his face as he sits there speechless.

I turn and look over my shoulder offering him one last sweet smile before I walked away…

My slow strut was on point that afternoon. Hell, it’s always on point. I knew that the sight of my ass walking away from him had his full attention. Mr. Chiasson’s flirtatious conversation had given me something to think about. I thought it only fair that I leave him with something to think about as well. Allowing him to look me over as I walked away was the least I could do.

Putting on my shades, I didn’t even bother to turn and say goodbye when I reached the front door…

Life goes on…

I try to ignore everyone now and just go about the business of graduating. Still, some people always find ways to capture my attention. Most of the time it’s unwanted and some of the time it’s a pleasant surprise.

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