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Alan Longfellow’s 3-person sailboat at Peconic Bay Marina on the south shore of Long Island sits tied to the pier. It’s flanked by other sail boats, big and small. Motor-powered boats also have their berths.
We have walked a short distance from the black Lexus under the warm sun of late morning. A mild breeze is blowing making the weather comfortable.
“I had this boat long before I met you.”
That’s at least two summers.
I asked, “did you buy it new.”
“Yah I did, and still paying the loan,” he replied.
A tax lawyer by profession, the 43 year old dude can easily afford the payments on the boat and his Breton Hills condominium at Glen Clove.
My boyfriend of 15 months since that night at Rosemont, we had started a chat over drinks that night then wound up in a nearby hotel room. He’s a 6 foot hunk who can mount me any time. Light-brown hair frames an oval face. He has full lips, a perfectly straight nose and trimmed beard.
A mild breeze propel the boat through small swells. Distant whitecaps dot the blue sea. Alan has control of a triangular sail and a much smaller triangular sail near the bow.
We hadn’t talked much since putting to sea, other than making observations about other boats. I gazed eastward.
A mile out on the water my boyfriend struck up a rambling conversation. He had been “bitten by the sailing bug” when he was 15.
I listened intently, unable to take my eyes off him. My eyes istanbul travesti soon wandered from his face down to his white/rainbow trunks. He was not unaware of my lust for him.
I’m face down on the bed propped up on my shins and forearms. You’re behind my thighs thrusting your dick into my hole. Make me ejaculate onto the blanket. Ejaculate inside me.
He asked jokingly, “getting any.”
I grinned but kept silent.
Late afternoon saw us at Bostwick’s Chowder House eating lobster rolls and sipping coffee.
During the long ride back to Glen Cove I was once again lost in my daydream. In my side vision I could see the object of my fantasy at the wheel of his black Lexus.
I had left Bostwick’s wearing my hands free masturbator from Amazon inside my swim trunks which by now are inside my pants. I discretely activated the toy and left my hands draped over the seat.
We had traveled several miles before my first ejaculation. I would have another one long before the end of the trip. Wearing wet briefs is not too uncomfortable.
“Hon, I just cummed in my underpants. They’re very wet.”
“Really,” he replied.
“I got a toy in the mail yesterday. It works nicely.”
“I saw your package but decided not to ask about it.”
The sun sat low on the horizon when we arrived at Breton Hills, an off-white two-story condominium complex behind a black metallic fence. One step outside the car Alan draped istanbul travestileri his arm around my waist and left it there until we reached the door.
The airconditioner chilled the rooms making our environment comfortable. We plopped into the sofa, a tan fabric piece. Alan aimed the remote at the 55-inch Samsung mounted above the hearth. At my suggestion he selected “Rome” on Netflix.
The TV played an episode about the reign of Nero. Meanwhile I leaned against my lover who draped his right arm around my shoulder. I planted a quick kiss on his lips. He responded in kind.
Sometime later I stripped off my jeans and shorts revealing the long inactive masturbator. Meanwhile the graph on screen counted down the seconds to the next episode.
My boyfriend grinned at the sight of it.
“I like that.”
“So do I.”
“Is that from Amazon?”
“Best 80 bucks I ever spent,” I quipped.
Since that night in the hotel room, “bottom” had always been my preference, not that I disliked being a “top”.
“Mount me tonight,” I said softly.
“I’ll mount you right here.”
The remark put a toothy smile on my face.
Seconds later I had one knee on the mattress while my lover’s big cock tapped my prostate gland. Soft grunts came with each breath masking my intense pleasure in “Bodyguard”.
He climaxed after a few minutes. I turned in time to see him pulling the condom off.
“Let me be ‘top’.”
He travesti istanbul asked, “do you know how.”
Having asked that, he raised his left leg above his chest inviting my cock to penetrate. I rocked gently thrusting my big cock into his tight hole. Unaccustomed to being “bottom”, he grunted loudly.
As darkness descended over the landscape and shrouded the room we crawled naked under the blanket.
Monday morning found me headed back to Syosset Hospital where I work as a tech in its MRI department with Alan’s sister Janette.
Janette Longfellow is not unattractive. At 5 8 she seems tall for a girl. Like her older brother, she has light-brown hair and blue eyes.
A peronsble type, she would make a nice girlfriend if I was straight, and she single. As always, her demeanor is cheerful.
I find it to be likeable.
I asked, “do you think it’s going to be busy today.”
“Probably,” she replied. “Did you have a good weekend.”
“Really nice,” I replied.
“Guess what,” she said.
That got my attention.
“My boyfriend proposed the other day.”
“I can’t wait to tell Alan.”
I bet you can’t,” she replied. She added, “I should be the one to tell him.”
On my way home in my modest 6 year old Honda Civic, I hoped silently that Alan would ask me to marry him. Living together is no longer enough. I want a full commitment.
Meanwhile I’m listening to long time favorite Chet Baker singing “You’d be so Nice to Come Home to.” The song expresses my feelings.
What can I do that will make him propose? I hate even the idea of withholding sex. It gives me too much pleasure.
I’ll bring up the subject when he comes in the door this afternoon.
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