A lazy session with an American guy in London

On the last Sunday of June, I posted a story about a session I had with a French guy on the last Sunday in May. Although I usually go running along the river with some guys from the gym on Sunday mornings, the session with the French guy caused me to miss the run that day. And since I posted the story on a Sunday, Legal-ize-IT left a comment wondering whether I did the run on the day that I posted the story. As it turned out, I found something better to do!

After posting the story about the French guy, I'm poking around gaydar as usual when I spot a guy that I've chatted to once before. I recall that he said he lives quite close to me, so I decide to start chatting to him again. Because we’d chatted before, it doesn’t take long to work out that he'd like me to visit him, and that 'now' is convenient. If it’s a quick session I should still be able to get to the gym in time for the run, so stuffing some clean gym kit into my sports bag I head off.

When I get to where the guy lives, it turns out to be a closed butcher’s shop. No doubt he lives above the shop, but there doesn’t seem to be any way in. I’ve just worked out that the entrance is in a side road when the guy calls me on my mobile phone.

“So when you get to the address”, he says slowly, “carry on past the shop and take the first turning on the left”. He's got a deep-south American accent, which I hadn't expected at all.

“Actually I’d just worked that out!” I say proudly. I ring the doorbell, and although I can’t hear it from where I’m standing, I hear it at the other end of the phone.

“Clever boy!” says the guy, “I’ll be right down”.

Soon I’m in a staircase, following the guy up some steps which lead to an open air terrace on the first floor. Face to face he’s a very friendly looking guy, but quite pale skinned. Although he’s got light brown hair, I can’t help wondering whether he’s ginger downstairs like several other pale skinned guys that I’ve known in the past.

The first floor terrace has several solid doors facing onto it. “Follow me”, he says, “I’ve got the apartment at the end”.

Once inside the apartment, he shows me into the main room. Most of the room is taken up by a huge sofa-bed, which has been opened out and made up into a comfy looking double bed. Somehow I have the impression that the sofa-bed is always open like that. At the foot of the bed I see a computer that’s still logged into gaydar. Half way up one side of the bed there’s a table, and on the table there's a TV showing some porn.

“Can I get you”, he asks, smiling at me, “anything?” I hadn’t noticed at first, but everything the guy says or does has a kind of slow, dreamy quality about it. It’s as though the matrix hasn’t properly connected this guy into reality!

“A glass of water would be great”, I say gratefully.

“OK”, he says, and he pauses. “Just hang on here a minute.” And after another pause he wanders off to find the kitchen.

While he’s gone I sit on the sofa-bed and take my trainers off. Thinking about the situation, I decide that the guy must be high on something. But I can’t smell any dope, and I can’t see any alcohol around, so exactly what drugs he’s been doing is a mystery. By the time the guy’s back in the room I’m naked, apart from my gym shorts.

“Thanks, that’s great”, I say before gulping down a few mouthfulls of water.

Before too long we’re both on the sofa-bed getting to know each other a bit better.

“Do you like being cuddled”, I ask half way through.

“Sure”, and he pauses, “I do.”

I manoeuvre him onto his side facing the TV, which still has some porn showing on it, and wrapping my arms round him from behind I snuggle up so that I can see the porn too. He feels lovely lying in my arms, but a few minute later he seems to be snoring. But we haven’t finished yet, I didn’t think I was that boring!

To amuse myself while he’s asleep, I reach down and feel his tackle. Since we started cuddling it’s definitely softened, but as I start to play with him I feel it slowly harden again inside my grip. Actually I quite enjoy touching guys in their sleep like this, it’s as though I’m doing something very naughty without the guy's permission. After a few minutes I lift myself up a bit to get a good look and my previous suspicions are confirmed, there's a small ginger forest down there!

After about ten minutes the guy starts waking up, and doesn’t even seem to realise that he’s been asleep. Re-engaging with each other now, we finish the job that we started. At the finale, I’m treated to a magnificent fountain, much more vigorous than a shaken bottle of Louis Roederer’s Cristal could ever be!

“Judging by your accent I guess you’re from one of the Southern States”, I say to him afterwards, cuddling up to him again.

“Yeah, I’m from”, he says, thinking carefully, “Alabama.”

We chat a bit, but suddenly I wonder, “Any idea what the time is mate?”

Damm! I’ve missed the run with my gym buddies. Ahhh well, never mind, there’s always next week :-).

Soon it seems like time to leave so I make my excuses and head to the gym anyway. On my way, I can't help wondering how long the jokes about ginger guys have been around. There was even a south park episode about gingervitis. Somewhere, at some point, some ginger guys must have done something incredibly stupid in the last twenty years or so to justify all this attention, becauseI don't remember ginger being an issue when I was at school.