My very first experience with a man old enough to be my father occurred when I was 20 and he was 50. I had become introduced to Ed via a Web profile—he sounded intriguing to me, as he said he was a fireman as well as a frequent nude model for art students. In his youth he had been a professional go-go dancer in San Francisco, having performed in all the best-known cinemas that featured live dancers and sex acts onstage (back in the glory days of gay sex before most of the adult theaters and bath houses were finally shut down). So I knew that he was very experienced and had a lifelong interest in sex and particularly exhibitionism. Ed was honest about his age and made sure in advance that I was open to meeting a mature man with a very hairy body who was no longer in top physical shape. I assured him that I found hairy men to be very masculine and sexy and that I wasn't expecting a muscle man. He also made it clear that he was interested in some fun manly companionship and not in finding a new boyfriend, as he was in a relationship that allowed safe playing around on the side.
Being an exhibitionist, though, he naturally undressed very slowly in front of me, like a strip tease from his days of performing on stage. In the middle of his stripping, I asked him if I could touch his chest while he continued to undress. I had never seen such a hairy chest in person. His chest was thickly covered in long, curly hairs, and they were astonishingly soft (not at all wiry) to the touch. Once he was naked, I invited him to lie on my bed. I undressed quickly, not being so exhibitionistic myself at the time, and then knelt beside his naked body and began oiling him up for the massage. His torso took a lot of oil because it was so hairy. He began moaning in pleasure almost the moment my hands touched his skin, and I loved the encouragement. He told me that his nipples were very sensitive and that I could work on them all I wanted to. I enjoyed watching his face as I stimulated his tits. He was getting incredibly turned on. I also enjoyed massaging his hairy arms, as the hairs were as soft as silk (even softer than those on his chest) and were amazingly sensual for me to rub across. Needless to say, while I massaged his upper body I had one eye on his cock at all times. The room was unfortunately on the chilly side, and it took several minutes for his cock to warm up enough to start getting hard. His cock was circumcised and had a rather surprisingly large head (bigger than any mushroom headed cock I've seen since, and I've certainly seen a lot of them since!) I could imagine that such a cock would be wonderfully visible from a stage during a sex show, and I could see how well-suited he must have been to performing live. While I continued to run my fingers through the hairs on his chest, he admired how big my ballsac was and apologized that his own balls were completely drawn up from the cold. But I let him know that I loved the feeling of tight balls and could fondle my own tight balls for hours on end. When his cock seemed to be fully hard, I oiled up the shaft and stroked him gently, not quite sure whether he wanted to cum now or later. As if reading my mind, he answered my question by letting me know that he wanted a turn at massaging me.
As he applied oil to my body, he shocked me somewhat by saying that I wasn't his type of man. He must have seen the reaction on my face because he quickly explained, "It's not that you're not attractive, but I usually only play around with more mature, more masculine men." I think that he said this in order to insure that I wouldn't take this encounter any further than what it was — a pleasurable bit of fun but by no means a "first date." But that's all I was looking for anyway, so we were cool. Yet I must admit that my self-confidence was temporarily shaken up by that split second when I interpreted "you're not my type" to mean "you're ugly!" Suddenly, he put his face between my legs, sniffed under my balls, and told me that he loved the way I smelled. That brought a smile to my face and restored a bit of self-confidence. He kept his face close to my cock as he began jacking me off. I loved the idea that he wanted to watch me as I shot my load. But I started feeling a bit of performance anxiety. I didn't usually jerk off with my hand, having grown up humping my pillow like a madman, so I wasn't sure how long it would take me to finally shoot off from a hand job. I said "Let's switch again because I want to see you cum first."
The second I touched his cock, he said "I could cum at any moment, so you decide when you're ready for it." He explained to me that as a live sex performer he basically had to be able to cum on cue (every strip show and erotic dance would end in a solo jerk off or fuck/suck act with another man, and he would be required to shoot his cream toward the men in the audience just as the music was ending, so he learned how to stay right on the edge of orgasm for long periods and to explode at a moment's notice). I told him I was eager to see him ejaculate. He warned me that he had been known to shoot well over his head, so I shouldn't point his cock anywhere that I didn't want to get sticky with spooge. I said that I'd like to see his hairy chest and belly covered in mancream. He seemed pleased with that eventuality, and after just three pumps with my fingers, the enormous head of his cock (even bigger now—impossibly big!—now that he was on the verge of orgasm) started pumping out his milk. I loved feeling his cock pulse in my hand, as each spasm of his orgasm was remarkably intense. His cock jerked much more intensely during orgasm than mine did. I literally couldn't hold it in one place. The amount of sperm on his chest and belly was quite impressive, and I couldn't resist asking him if I could rub my cock through it.
I explained to him that I usually masturbated by humping my pillow and that I'd love to hump my cock through his hot sperm and pump my own cream into his. He wordlessly agreed, reaching out to hug me into his body. I pumped furiously, my cock sliding smoothly through his fresh cum, and my face buried in his hairy chest. I humped him like an animal, knowing that I could be rough with him (in retrospect, perhaps I was unconsciously trying to show him that I was more masculine than he had thought I was?) I grunted wildly as I fucked his belly, encouraged by feeling his hands grasping my buttocks as I pounded him, and you can bet that I worked up quite a sweat by the time my cock shot off. He gasped loudly as I came, and I know that he could feel the heat and wetness of my jism as it pumped between us. For the longest time I just lay there on top of him in total exhaustion, and eventually he literally had to peel me off him because our skin was sealed together from the sweat and cum.
My mind finally came back to reality when I heard the sound of his beeper going off. He was getting paged because there was a fire or other emergency he had to go to. There was no time for a shower — he simply had to towel off and get dressed in a hurry. I couldn't help being tickled by the thought that he would spend the entire remainder of his day with my sperm on his skin, and I wondered if anyone he met during the day would smell the scent of mansex on him. I knew that if he ran into any gay men during the day, they would most certainly recognize that unmistakable scent! Ed thanked me for what he said was great fun and apologized for having to "cum and run." We agreed to stay in contact via e-mail and plan another encounter.
We did indeed get together several times again, sometimes at his house and sometimes at mine, though it was never quite as intense as that first time.