We exchanged fantasies and pics and after a couple of weeks decided to meet up and see how we got on. We met in a bar not far from where he lived and got on so well that he invited me back to his place that first night. He was in his early sixties, about 5'10" and as thin as a rake with a cock that made me wince in pain just looking at it, the kind of cock that, if he shoved up your arse, you'd spend the rest of the day trying to swallow your own intestines. Fortunately for me Mark liked to receive rather than give so I was spared the agony. He liked to dress in his wife's underwear, enjoyed a bit of bondage and a light spanking, just enough to give his skinny arse a rosy glow. He became a regular meet 2 or 3 times a month whenever his wife was away. It would be the same routine every time, kissing, a bit of nipple play (which does nothing for me, but each to his own), I'd suck his magnificent cock, then he'd be on all fours for a slapped arse and a good butt fucking. I loved it,. Eventually, face still hidden, I asked, all muffly, “Do you really?” He laughed, a deep, rumbling growly laugh, like the beginning of thunder directly overhead. “Or course I do, stupid. Give me a kiss.” I hid my head lower, almost tucked under my own arm. I couldn’t believe it! What was I meant to do? Yes, yes, I know you’re sat there reading this, thinking, “Just bloody kiss him, you idiot! Get over it.” But the truth was, I didn’t know how to start, and I didn’t know what to do whilst we might be kissing either, and I did my crazy-eyed floor-staring trick again. It’s very hard to do the crazy-eyed floor-staring trick with half your head tucked under your own arm like a chubby Anne Boleyn whilst in the arms of a gargantuan giant, wishing you could sit down so your back would stop hurting but not wanting to move for fear of breaking this amazing but possibly painkiller-fuelled dream. But I managed it. In the end, I don’t remember what happened, but the next thing I knew, my head.
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