It was another long, holiday weekend and a friend and I were staying with another friend and his housemate in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, a pretty town with a charming, old section where we spent the afternoon.
My friend had said I “needed” to meet Will the housemate, about whom I became, of course, curious when he said Will was cute, as my friend knows my tastes. As foretold, Will turned out to be very cute, also young and thin, with pretty eyes and a closely trimmed beard.
That evening, we four settled in to watch a movie on VCR, after which my friend and our host went up to bed, leaving me and Will alone. Will was a quiet guy and hadn’t seemed particularly interested in me. I decided anyway to try a last-minute overture in case he secretly wanted me to join him in bed.
Looking squarely at him, I asked where guests slept.
Maybe I didn’t bat my eyes enough, for to my minor disappointment (and minor amusement), he said in all seriousness that the best place was the sofa bed in the living room, and he’d get me some sheets.
Ah.
Will helped me make up the sofa bed, and I brushed my teeth and began to get undressed. He hung around, watching as I got into bed, and I wondered if he was yet going to put a move on me. But then he said good night and went upstairs to his room.
Or so I thought. As I laid there flipping through a magazine and getting sleepy, Will came padding back down and sat on the bed next to me, trying to keep some conversation going. We chatted for a few minutes while I got sleepier and sleepier.
Once again it didn’t seem like he was ever going to make a pass at me, so I said suddenly that I was getting sleepy, and why don’t you just take off your clothes and get in bed with me? I watched with some satisfaction and more than a little swelling interest as he stripped down to his shorts and climbed in.
As Will laid down, I turned off the light, reached over, and ran my hand across his shoulders and chest as we began to kiss and cuddle gently. Before too long we tugged off our shorts and tossed off the covers to exchange blow jobs. He wasn’t very aggressive, and I wondered if maybe Will didn’t have much experience with men. (I could relate.)
Him feeling me up was keeping me hard and horny, but after a while we still hadn’t gotten any further and I was starting to think I really ought to get some sleep. So I rolled over onto my back and started playing with my dick. But also, I didn’t see why Will shouldn’t be involved, so I got him up and sitting astride my hips and got him started by playing with his dick too.
After a few minutes we jerked our respective loads all over my stomach and chest, wiped off, and he padded up to his own bedroom for the night.
The next morning Will rushed off early for work, barely saying good-bye. When our host came downstairs, my friend and I lingered over breakfast, then left for home.
Will and I traded a few emails for a while and though he suggested that he would like to visit me in DC, we never got together again.
Aside: Around this time, friends and I discovered Bardo Rodeo, a brewpub in Arlington, just across from DC, that made probably the best beer I ever had. One afternoon there, I went to the restroom. The building had been a car dealership, and the restroom still had its large round, workers’ hand-washing station in the center, one of those deals where you step on a bar to turn on a large fountain of water. But—it looked like one huge group urinal and men peed in it all the time. I had just zipped up as some guy walked in, whipped it out, and started peeing. He might have noticed my glance because he said suddenly but casually, “Isn’t this thing great? You can check out other guy’s dicks.” Bardo wasn’t gay bar, and this struck me as a rather forward thing to say to another man in a restroom; or he was just making a joke.
Only later did I think that should have responded by pulling out my Prince Albert and invited him to check this out.