The Next Best Thing

Info Tristan LeMay
07 Nov. '16
The Next Best Thing

   About four months ago, I moved into this really cool abandoned industrial space I found on the West side of town, really close to where the quaint suburbs begin. My new digs kind of look out of place here, but I don’t care. As a visual artist, this is the kind of space I’ve dreamt of all my life.

   The first floor used to be used by a taxi company for car maintenance and body shop work. I put in a lot of money to have that gigantic warehouse-size space turned into a commercial loft which I use both for creating my pieces – sculptures, paintings and huge installations for museums, public buildings and private collections – and as gallery space for shows and receptions.

   The second floor was the office space for the taxi company and – oddly enough – a casting agency that decided to move downtown. I transformed that – with the help of my friend Sebastien, who has his own really cool, award-winning construction and remodeling company – into my living space. I finally have a bedroom the size I’ve always dreamed of, a bathroom that could double as a locker room for a basketball team and a shower that could accommodate three players at a time, as well as a kitchen that would make Gordon Ramsay cream his shorts.

   One of the many things that makes my new place really cool is the fact that it has a great little garden space in the back and a good size lawn in the front, making it look less commercial and cold, more cozy and homey. So for the whole summer, once a week, usually on Wednesday afternoon, right after lunch, I’ve had this little ritual that has me donning a tank-top and nylon, loose-fitting Adidas shorts, revving up the lawn mower and getting lost in my thoughts while soaking in the sun’s rays.

   Last Wednesday, as I was mowing away, I was thinking of the erotic metal sculpture the gay curator of the Vienna Contemporary Art Museum commissioned for his garden. I had opted for two nude ballet-dancer-type male silhouettes that would be connected only by the erect penis of one of the characters penetrating the anal cavity of the second character. As I was visualizing my cold, stainless steel, life-size figures coming to life – actually picturing two muscular dancers, one Latino and one Asian, I had seen in Marie Chouinard’s very offbeat yet fascinating contemporary ballet bODY_rEMIXes_vARIATIONS_gOLDBERG while researching body movement for my piece –, envisioning their nude bodies oscillating, writhing, bumping and grinding into each other with odd poles, crutches and metal props like the ones they’d used in the show, I was suddenly hit with a spontaneous flash of inspiration: I would find a way for the metal penis to penetrate through the body of the receiving silhouette and into the bottom’s own penis, making it look almost as if the bottom’s penis was the penetrating organ’s condom.

   – That’s perfect! I exclaimed aloud, not even hearing myself over the roar of the mower’s motor.

   That flash of genius also made me snap out of my daydream and I noticed my loose-fitting Adidas shorts were tenting. The mower’s vibration and thinking about my erotic artistic project had given me a hard-on! I chuckled and realized my cock also felt wet which meant I’d oozed pre-cum, a fact that was more and more frequent since I’d hit forty and had been told by my doctor that my prostate had expanded a little. For the time being, he said it wasn’t anything to be worried about – the only things I’d noticed were that I needed to pee more frequently and had really started to enjoy being anally stimulated – but that he’d keep an eye on it. That had made me laugh because I knew what he meant, but I had imagined him shoving a telescope up my ass, blinking and looking up there with just one eye!

   Although I was erect, it didn’t really make me feel uncomfortable that somebody off the street might notice because I have a pretty small cock. Well, average really, if you trust the most recent scientific studies, but absolutely tiny if you compare it to the hung studs that gay porn has been feeding us for decades. Anyway, I just kept my five-and-a-half-inch boner and kept on mowing my lawn. When the erection did start to bother a bit, I just looked around and, when I was sure nobody was looking, I stuck my hand in my shorts, played around with my junk a little and swabbed the pre-cum with my index finger, bringing it to my mouth when my digit came out of the shorts.

   A few times, I made my cock twitch in my shorts like I didn’t want the boner to die. I have to admit, very often, just the vibration from the mower would give me a hard-on and, when I’d finish mowing, I’d hit the shower and beat off, sometimes even pushing a really small, thin dildo I’d gotten at a local sex shop up my butt to amplify my orgasm with some prostate stimulation.

   But that Wednesday, as I finished mowing, I don’t know what came over me, but I got a jump start on the masturbation by pushing my hard cock to the side in the thin mesh underpants that are sewn into the shorts and gave my boner a few squeezes with my left hand as I turned the mower on its side to scrape out the stuck-on grass from around the blades with a wooden paint stick I’d stuck in my back pocket. As I was squatting next to the machine, I discretely slipped my left hand through the pant leg of the shorts and started really jerking off and squeezing my pulsating pecker.

   – You need a hand with that, dude?

   The voice startled me and I looked up, only to be blinded by the beaming sun.

   I pulled my hand off my cock to block out the sun while I stammered:

   – What?

   – I’ve seen you mowing like, every week and I was wondering if you’d like some help around here. You know, like odd jobs or something? I’m kinda looking to make some money and I live just down the street.

   I was looking up at this muscular twink with dusty blond, messed up hair coming out of a baseball cap, a chiseled jaw line with two-day stubble and dark eyes that would have melted a glacier. I quickly assessed his rugged, swimmer-type shoulders and well-defined arms coming out of the straps of a tank top not much different from the one I was wearing, except his was a Toronto Raptors purple jersey that matched the hat he was wearing with the visor on back. My eyes widened as they couldn’t believe what they were spying.

   Since the sun was still a bit of a problem, I looked down between my legs and noticed I’d pulled my cock and balls out of the mesh underwear and through the pant leg of my shorts. I quickly slipped my junk back inside and hoped the kid hadn’t noticed.

   – You’ve only been around here a few months, right? he asked.

   – Yeah, I replied, standing up, wiping my hands on the back of my shorts and pushing my hips forward to stretch out my back after being in that uncomfortable squat for a few minutes. I moved in last May.

   He grinned and clapped his hands together once, exclaiming:

   – I knew it! My pal Dylan owes me ten bucks!

   I gave him a puzzled look.

   – Sorry, he added. It’s just Dylan and me, we had this bet. He said you only worked here but I said you lived here, too.

   I chuckled uncomfortably, not knowing if I was flattered or worried that this young guy and his friend had been spying on me since I’d moved into the neighborhood.

   – I’m Lance, by the way, he said, holding out his hand for me to shake.

   – Lance? I replied, incredulously, thinking ‘Sounds like a gay porn star name from the 80s’.

   Nevertheless, I went to take his hand and as he grabbed it into a ‘bro handshake’ instead of the more traditional kind, he chuckled and said:

   – I know, right? Sounds like an old porn screen name.

   If I’d been taking a sip from a glass, I’m sure I would have done one of those ridiculous spit takes from old sitcoms and vaudeville jokes. Instead, I just chuckled, not wanting him to think I’d had the same thing go through my brain.

   Hum… Old porn screen name, he’d said, right? From the 80s? Yeah. This guy was definitely from another generation and when I was already jerking off to the likes of Jeff Stryker, Matt Ramsey, Rick Donovan and yeah, Lance (!), his parents probably hadn’t even met yet!

   – So you and your buddy have been making bets on the weird old guy who just moved into the neighborhood, wondering if he’s the type to slip razor blades in rotten apples at Halloween?

   He laughed.

   – No, man, that’s not it at all. We were really curious to know what you were gonna make of this place that’s been pretty much abandoned for like, forever. And…

   He interrupted himself and sort of looked me over. Or at least, that’s what I thought. We still hadn’t let go of each other’s hand and he was sending me this hot vibe that I was afraid I was reading wrong. My cock definitely seemed to be feeling something, too.

   To bring down the tension and the awkwardness, I said:

   – I’m Scott.

   – Cool.

   – Scott Rockland. That’s a 90s porn name.

   He burst out laughing. I got a chance to look down at the cargo shorts he was wearing, his tanned legs dusted with golden hair and the sandals he had on his big feet. I don’t know why but his toes did something to me and – although I wouldn’t say I have a foot fetish – I suddenly found myself wanting to nibble and suck on them.

   – I was thinking about changing it to Scott Rockhard, but my agent said that would sound too much like a fake name.

   Again, he laughed. I liked his laugh. It didn’t sound fake or stupid. It was genuine. He seemed genuine. Wholesome. That black backpack he was wearing made him look like he was coming home from school.

   – You in College? I asked.

   – I was, but I’m taking a semester – maybe a year off. Starting some serious acting workshop with this really hot acting coach…

   – Hot?

   He chortled.

   – Not, ‘sexy hot’, he corrected. I mean like, top-of-his-game-hot, you know what I mean?

   – Yeah. That’s great, so you wanna do theater, movies, TV…?

   – All of it, yeah. I really loved it in high school, but... ugh. Thought I needed to get a real job so I started a degree in accounting… but fuck, I’m an artist, you know?

    I laughed.

   – What’s so funny?

   – Just that I can relate. This is what I do here. Create art. Sculpture, painting, visual installations…

   – Fuck!

   He sounded disappointed.

   – What?

   – Just lost those ten bucks!

   – What?

   – Dylan bet me ten bucks you were a visual artist and I said you were a welder.

   I chuckled.

   – Well, actually, you’re kinda both right. I am an artist, but since I work with metals, I do weld from time to time.

   – No shit?

   – No shit.

   – That’s fucking hot, dude.

   – Hot?

   He looked straight into my eyes and said:

   – Yeah, hot. Like Dad-I’d-Like-To-Fuck-hot.

   My heart started racing and a strange feeling of butterflies flying around in my belly overwhelmed me. Suddenly, it was just too much and, even though my cock was still as hard as before Lance had startled me, I inexplicably just burst out laughing.

   – Come on, kid, stop fooling around.

   He was still looking at me with intensity, not even cracking a smile.

   – You think I’m shitting you?

   – Uh… yeah.

   – Do I look like I’m shitting you?

   – I’m more than twice your age.

   – I know.

   – I could be your father.

   – But you’re not.

   – Are you even…?

   – I just turned twenty, okay?

   – And you’re into…

   – Hot older dudes like you, man. Yeah.

   He sounded like he just wanted to pounce on me and was about to not be able to resist anymore. I was just standing there with my shorts still tenting at my crotch.

   – You’re into guys, right? he half-asked, his voice quivering.

   – Yeah, I’m into guys.

   – So is it me? I’m not your type or something?

   – No, it’s not you.

   – So why aren’t you inviting me in?

I swallowed hard.

   – Because this is completely insane.

   – Come on! You feel the pull. The chemistry? I see your cock, man. It’s fucking hard in your shorts, dude. You’re hard for me, right?

   I couldn’t imagine saying, ‘Actually, I was hard before you got here because I was pushing a vibrating lawn mower and thinking of two contemporary ballet dancers fucking each other in…’

   – It’s taking me every inch of willpower to not reach over right now and grab your big, fat, hard cock…

   He had said the last words very slowly and had started moving toward me. My cock was twitching in the white mesh inside the shorts but, out of the three adjectives he’d used to describe my penis without having even seen it, two just didn’t fit. ‘If you’re expecting a thirteen-inch stallion cock, you’re in for a rude awakening, kid’, I thought to myself.

   – Let me put the mower inside.

   I headed to the garage door I’d left open and I could feel his eyes burning the skin of my ass through the thin fabric of the shorts. As soon as I passed the threshold and pressed the button on the electric door opener, bringing down the curtain to give us some privacy, Lance put his burning hands on my ass cheeks and started kneading them.

   – Oh, man, Scott, that’s what I’m talking about. You’ve got a fine ass, dude. Hot bubble butt... mmmm... So fucking firm and muscular. I knew you worked out.

   – That’s just from my cycling.

   – I know, he confessed. I’ve seen you riding around the neighborhood. So hot in those tight Lycra cycling shorts. Mmmm… I kept trying to steal a look at your cock and balls, but your legs – shit – those strong, bulging trunks of powerful man flesh just going up and down so fast… I could never see anything.

   He was whispering behind me, his hands having moved to my hips and I could feel his hard cock through the thick fabric of his shorts and the thin fabric of mine pushing just under my ass because he’s a bit shorter than I am.

   – I’ve spent so many nights with a big, fat dildo shoved hard up my ass while I jerked off dreaming that one day, your huge, hard cock would be up there instead.

   There he was again, speculating on the size of my cock. Although I was really afraid he’d be disappointed by the actual size of my manhood, this kid was giving me wings. His lust, his intensity, his passion were making me so hard, it was as though my cock had grown an extra two inches inside my shorts. I gave the mower one last push like I was telling it to fuck off and turned around abruptly, slipping my hands under his tank top and feeling up his muscles like xylophone tone bars. His eyes rolled in his head in ecstasy.

   – Oh, fuck, dude. Feeling your hands on me… I’ve been dreaming of this…

   I felt odd that I had never seen him before, had never noticed him on the street and yet he seemed to know so much about me.

   I took my hands out from under the tank top just long enough to pull the backpack straps off his shoulder and put the bag on the floor. As I did this, he lifted himself up on his toes a bit and leaned into me, falling forward into a kiss. His soft, supple lips landed hard on mine but that just added to the electricity and passion. He moaned as my hands got back to caressing his body under the tank top and our lips parted to partake of their wetness and of our tongues.

   His kissing expertise surprised me and I suddenly found myself temporarily taken out of the situation, thinking back to when I was his age and what a clumsy lover I must have been.

   As we kissed, I pulled the tank top over his head, revealing his deliciously taut upper body, surprisingly beefy chest and perky, erect nipples which I grazed with my fingers before pulling away from the kiss to give them a few licks, nibbles and sucks, making him moan even more.

   – Oh my God, you really are an artist, he whispered.

   – What do you mean?

   – Your hands, he went on. They’re so skilled, so accomplished, so experienced. Mmmm…

   I could have interpreted his words the wrong way, but I just wanted to seize the moment, feel the hunger we were sharing for each other’s body, sense each blissful touch we were exchanging.

   He took off my tank-top as I’d taken his off.

   – You’re so hairy, he said approvingly as his fingers traveled in the fur on my chest. Mmmm… I love your pecs.

   I was happy he approved and being complemented for my body by such a nice guy was quite a confidence-builder.

   He added his mouth to his exploration of my upper body: kissing, licking, and nibbling as I had done to him, but covering much more ground. His touch was passionate and feverish which compensated for his lack of experience. I was liking what he was doing but I wanted to take control of the situation, have my way with his beautiful body, make him moan and groan with pleasure so that I could reach the state of delight I was craving.

   I dropped to my knees and thought the gray, painted cement probably wouldn’t be the most comfortable surface to have sex, but I didn’t want to break my stride or interrupt the good time we were having by suggesting we move, even just a few feet to my workshop space which had much more adequate flooring and furniture. I wanted to taste his pole, make him feel what it was like to have an experienced mouth work on his Woodie, witling voraciously at it until it exploded in a rush of hot organic lava.

   I caressed his crotch a little through the thick beige cotton of his cargo shorts before I undid his belt and button, letting the garment fall to the floor. He stepped out of them and started pressing his Calvin Klein boxer briefs against my face, his big, thick, rock-hard penis eager to see the light of day.

   – Oh, Daddy, this feels so good.

   Although I’d never been called that before – both because I’d never been with a guy so young and because I’d never actually had real children either – and didn’t really feel comfortable with it, I let it go but apparently, he felt that something was off.

   – You mind if I call you that? When I didn’t know your name, that’s what I called you in my fantasies.

   I had been in his fantasies. He had dreamt of being with me. He had fantasized about having sex with me. He’d imagined me sucking on his huge tube of man flesh as he masturbated. Although I felt weird with the nickname, I certainly didn’t want to talk the subject to death either so I just replied:

   – Go ahead.

   And I pulled his boxer brief elastic band over his throbbing cock and balls, revealing how well-endowed he was indeed. Then, I could have kicked my creative mind to hell when it sprouted the idea: ‘Hell, the Lance from the 80s porn flicks had nothing on you, baby!’

   I gave it a few strokes and he started pumping his hips, fucking my fist and hitting my tongue with his cock head, letting me decide when and how I would make this the best oral sex he had received in his short life experience.

   I cupped his balls with my free hand and revelled in making them dance on my fingers, my middle finger feeling the beginning of his ass crack through his legs as he pushed his hips back and forth. When I finally decided to swallow him whole, I felt his knees buckle and the guttural moan that came from his throat was unequivocal. He just wanted this to never end.

   – Oh yeah, Daddy, suck my cock please. Make me feel it like I’ve dreamed it for months. Yeah. Oooohhh… no. Please don’t make me cum so soon.

   I pulled back and stood without letting go of his balls but pulling them down slightly, as I kissed my way up his body to his mouth. He greeted my lips with gusto and reached down to feel my hard cock through my shorts.

   – I want to feel your big cock inside me, Daddy. I need you to make love to me without taking your eyes off me. Please.

   He really had had a series of fantasies about what our first encounter would be like. I wasn’t sure we’d manage to get months-worth of wet dreams into one sex romp, but I was in no hurry to see him leave. We definitely could go at it for a while.

   – The only thing is, baby

   I interrupted myself.

   – Is it okay if I call you baby?

   – Are you kidding? That’s like the biggest compliment to me. That you’d want to call me that? Wow…

   He kissed me passionately. This was actually feeling like much more than random sex. I was actually connecting with this gorgeous, muscular twink not only on a physical level but also on what seemed to be a more general level.

   – You just need to know… I, uh… I don’t have a monster cock like yours.

   – I still want to feel you inside me, okay?

   – Sure, but…

   As I was talking I interrupted myself again because he had turned around and leaned down to unzip a compartment of his backpack.

   – That’s why I got these today.

   When he turned back toward me, he brandished two very large dildos… one pink-flesh tone, one black as the night.

   – Holy shit! I exclaimed, surprised.

   – I want you to make love to me, Daddy, and then I want you to fuck me with these… and those amazing hands of yours.

   I chuckled.

   – Huh… I guess you certainly know what you want…

   – I do. I want you, Scott. I’ve wanted you for weeks.

   I kissed him passionately and took one of the dildos so I could take his free hand.

   – Come.

   We went up to my bedroom and he exclaimed:

   – You did all this? You made this place so beautiful?

   – With some help, yeah.

   – I could really get used to hanging around here.

   I smiled and he looked at me funny.

   – Am I going too fast? Sorry. I… it’s just that…

   – You’ve been here for a while, in your dreams and fantasies.

   He blushed and looked down, embarrassed.

   – Yeah. That’s fucked up, right?

   – No. It’s flattering and exciting. I’ve been lonely for a while now and… I’m happy you finally got up the courage to come over and talk to me.

   He smiled again and kissed me. We lay on my bed caressing each other and kissing before he inched his way down to my cock and started sucking it furiously, taking it easily down to the base, pulling back the foreskin and examining my cockhead, rubbing the pre-cum around with his index, licking away the pre-cum and feeding me his finger.

   Then, he laid me on my back and positioned himself over me, easing his anal sphincter over my erect cock and sliding down on it in a soft moan. He leaned in to kiss me before pulling back and rubbing my chest and nipples as he rode my cock, facing me and arching down regularly to kiss me again.

   – Mmmm… you feel so good inside me, Scott.

   Yeah, I noticed that he’d called me Scott instead of Daddy but I was much more concerned with the fact that if he was used to such huge dildos, my cock probably wasn’t doing much for him. Yet I felt that he was happy to be with me, that that seemed to be enough.

   As he bounced on my very hard cock – at least he couldn’t say that it wasn’t in there and giving it its all –, he let me stroke his own powerful pole until suddenly he said:

   – Oh, man. I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum so hard !  Yes, Daddy. Make your boy come. Are you gonna shoot, too, Daddy?

   I did feel I was on the brink of cuming, too, so I leaned in a bit, positioning his cock under my mouth and when he did explode, shot after shot of hot, sweet cum landed on my tongue and my lips.

   – Oh fuck! You’re eating my cum! Mmmmm! Daddy, yes! Take it if you want. Yes! Taste it! Drink it! It’s yours.

   And I felt my balls tingle before I erupted myself, deep – or not so deep – inside Lance, my head spinning with pleasure.

   We kissed for the longest time as my cock stayed erect inside him and his own dick stayed hard.

   And when my cock finally did slip out of him, Lance jumped off the bed and grabbed the black dildo he’d brought upstairs, saying:

   – Now please hold me, kiss me, and fuck me with this baby.

   We cuddled on the bed and I slowly slipped the huge dildo inside my young lover, watching his face to make sure the winces weren’t too severe. He seemed comfortable so I kept moving the toy inside him as I kissed him and caressed his body with my free hand. It was a different way of making love but I could feel that he was so content, so happy that I was working the dildo inside him like that.

   – Mmmmm… yeah, baby! Oh! Your hands are so…. Mmmm… I love them.

   Giving him so much pleasure with the toy was making me hard again and he started masturbating me as we kissed. After what seemed like a few moments but was probably much longer – just, time flying by in our pleasure – I felt Lance’s body become more and more agitated and my cock started twitching furiously in Lance’s hand until it exploded once again, shooting stream after stream of cum on Lance’s leg and belly. This seemed to make him very happy because, a few seconds later, without even touching his penis, it started vibrating and, as I accelerated the friction in his backside, I repositioned myself so that I could massage the balls of his feet, making his toes wiggle. I started sucking on them individually, nibbling a bit, tasting the mix of light sweat and faint aroma of leather from his sandals. This was making him crazy with desire and, before I knew it, his cock shot strand after strand of of cum without either one of us even touching it.

   He kept the dildo inside himself for a moment longer as we kissed and caressed each other, sharing delicious goosebumps of pleasure.

   – Was it like you hoped in your fantasies? I asked.

   – Are you kidding? It was amazing. Even better than anything I could have dreamed of.

   – I’m glad.

   – And I’d love it if…

   He stopped himself.

   – If what?

   – If we could… do this again… like, all the time…

   I smiled.

   – I don’t want to like, be pushy or sound like I’m imposing, you know?

   – You’re not. Don’t worry. I think I’m going to love having you around. Maybe you could even help me out with my work. Some of the stuff I have coming up is pretty challenging and… I’ll probably be needing help.

   He kissed me hard on the mouth like I had given him a great Christmas present.

   – This is so great, he said after a few minutes of silence, laying on his back.

   – It is.

   – And I’m ahead twenty bucks, he declared.

   – What?

   – Yeah. Remember Dylan and our bets?

   – Yeah. Didn’t you say you were even?

   – Right. I won the first bet… he… sorta won the second one… but we made two more. I bet him you were into guys… 10 bucks… and that I’d get you in bed first… cha-ching!

   I probably should have been offended, but I just burst out laughing. This generational divide would probably be a challenge, but having sex with Lance certainly wasn’t. It was… like, fucking hot, dude!

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