Sometimes I meet a man that reminds me of my days out of high school. I went to a summer program right out of high school at the local technical college, to see what aptitudes I had. My grandfather’s idea. I wasn’t a kid with any mechanical or technical skills and he wanted me to learn a trade first. Those classes were full of recent high school students.
To say I was frustrated is putting it lightly. I hated it. There was a man who taught welding. He stood behind me holding my arms to show me how to hold the torch. He was all around me, holding me tight against him, breathing on me. I wasn’t ever going to be a welder, but what I liked was that man holding me like that. I dreamt of him, and every chance I got I talked to him.
The school had a small men’s room, with two urinals and a stall. I followed him into the men’s room and stood beside him with my wimpy dick and his monster cock. He said it was dangerous for me to stare. He reached around me and held my wimpy dick in his hand to help me point. He then told me to show him why he didn’t fuck me, and I had to suck his dick. None of this bothered me, and the ice was broken.
At his apartment I crawled on my hands and knees towards him to suck his dick. I laid on his bed with a pillow in my arms for him to get on top of me. He got familiar with me and kissed me on the mouth and I kissed him on the mouth. What I liked most of all was when he fucked me. My grandfather would not be proud of me. But I had found out what I liked. I went to art school.
But some times when I have things to do, or I have a chance, I meet a man much like my welding teacher. A good place to go is the local shade tree mechanic for my 2006 Honda. He has big hands and he is rough inside and outside. He has a monster dick and he lets me hold it and show him why he’s the man and I’m the wimp that sucks him. I know my place, he doesn’t have to tell me. It’s legs open waiting for him to fuck me.
