Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
Subject: My Charmed Life: Nashville 1, Chapter 1 My Charmed Life by ail / �2019 This story is intended for adults who enjoy reading about gay male sex. If this isn’t you then you shouldn’t be reading it. If it’s illegal for you to access this, or you think it’s offensive, then you shouldn’t be here either. It is fiction�fantasy�even though it may have been inspired by some actual experiences. And any similarities to real events or persons are mere coincidences. This is the first installment of a multi-part saga. It is not, however, the first chronologically. I don’t know… that’s just how it happened. These stories are free to the reader because of the wonderfulness of Nifty. I know because I read them for lemendy-nine years before I started writing. So, message me if you like it or have any suggestions. And send them some bucks sometimes. Soon. Keep those nasty stories coming! Chapter 1: Nashville 1 Early in my career as a trainer for that company with the name that begins and ends with the twenty-fourth letter of the alphabet, I was transferred to Music City, USA. Nashville, Tennessee. I flew down to find a place to live, flew back to NJ to pack and move out, get my stuff to my new town, and move in. Had to rent, since I would likely be transferred at least one more time before getting my first management slot. Plus a down payment would be hard to scrape together right now. The requirements were: reasonable rent, near the interstates (for traveling to other cities and the airport), first floor (as I’d be lugging heavy computer equipment in and out), two bedrooms (one for an office), and no carpeting. For those who know Nashville, the complex I found was off the Thompson Lane exit and met all my requirements. Plus Hidden Cove was not too large, which I like; was in a hilly area, which caused me problems when it snowed; was racially and ethnically mixed, which I prefer; was in a quiet spot with trees around; and had very ankara escort few large apartments, so not a lot of kids. The first full day in my unit, I made a run to the nearest discount store for necessities, which barely fit in two of their largest bags. I could carry them both in one trip, but had to go back outside to lock up my off-white Dodge Dart. I was 26 then; not a gym nut but in good shape. I had gotten into the habit of bicycling in childhood and maintained it for decades. That’s mainly what kept me fit. Also, I love nature, so hiking was necessary for that pursuit. Anyway, after dealing with the car, I turned and noticed a guy getting into his car. His black Datsun was parked next to my Dodge. I should mention that my car had a small sticker with a gold lambda on it, which was the equivalent of a rainbow sticker today. But back then, not a lot of people recognized the Greek letter as a gay symbol. I had briefly considered taking the sticker off prior to settling in Nashville, but decided to suck it up (poor choice of words) and see what developed. My neighbor, Ted, was friendly, about my age or a couple of years older, black and buff, and single. He got back out of his car at the sight of me to say hey. I told him which apartment was mine (his was just upstairs) and that he was invited anytime for a cold beer or hot coffee, even though my place would probably be a big mess for a week or two. He said he’d probably take me up on that sooner than I expected. = = = = = Sure enough, a few days later in the early evening, Ted came knocking. He had the usual outfit on for the first week of fall: tee shirt and shorts. He looked good. I had just shorts on for sorting through stuff. I guess he noticed my bare feet and shoes just inside the door and took his sandals off. I thought he was cool right away. “What’ll it be?” I asked. “Black coffee, if you got it.” “Natch,” I said, and went to the kitchen to fetch two. “Make yourself çukurambar escort comfortable” I called from the kitchen. “Mi casa es tuya.” I took a chance and tried out my high-school Spanish. “Igual, vecino” he replied. (“Same, neighbor.”) We laughed and at the same time said, “High school?” More giggling. Talking to Ted was easy. He was pursuing a civil engineering degree part time and working full time as a surveyor. Really busy. Most of his friends and family lived elsewhere in Tennessee. He’d lived in New Orleans and Knoxville. “Relationships?” I asked. “Not much time for that.” “Living on fast food?” Me again. “You guessed it.” “I’ll remember that when I cook,” I promised. “Jay?” he said. “Yes, Ted?” “Are you gay?” “Yes, Ted. You’re not, though.” “No” he said. “Nobody’s perfect.” My usual reply. He laughed politely. “But you’re cool. I can tell.” “I hope so,” he said. “Well, I told you I used to live in N’awlins. That city opened my eyes some.” A short silence. “A guy I worked with got to be a friend. Carlos was good company. I think he liked my looks.” I think I knew where he was headed, but I wasn’t helping him any. “I had a steady girlfriend at the time; a nurse.” Ted continued. “A relative got sick and she needed to go out of state for awhile to be the aunt’s caregiver. One night after work, we went to a bar near my apartment and then, after a couple of drinks, walked to my place. I’m not one who meets new people easily, so I hadn’t been dating for two or three weeks by then. I probably said something about that and Carlos made his move. Carlos knew I was straight. He told me he really liked giving blowjobs and didn’t expect anything in return from a straight guy. I needed some attention, you know. Anyway, this went on while my lady was out of town. And she eventually moved away, so…” A longer pause. “So you’re wondering if I would be your new Carlos,” I said. “I hope you’re dikmen escort not shocked, or insulted, or anything,” Ken said. I shook my head. “First of all,” I started, “I do like giving head, especially to good-looking guys who enjoy it. I don’t need anything in return if that’s understood up front. What does concern me is that I was hoping we’d get to be friendly neighbors, if not real friends, and I’m wondering if this other thing would mess that up.” “Hey,” said Ken, “I already thought of that. We’re well-adjusted, mature guys. I figured we could keep one thing separate from the other. Neither of us is going to fall in love with the other one anyway.” “How do you know that? I responded. “It happens that I am extremely lovable,” I kidded. A genuine laugh. I laid out my conditions. “The one requirement. Oh, wait, I thought of another one. The two things are… this first one I’m sure I don’t have to mention, is it has to be… all clean… you know, down there.” Ken started to interrupt but I continued, “and the second one is, it has to be only between us. You already alluded to that. Like get together late at night, make sure I don’t have company, you know, give a call first.” I looked my new neighbor over again. “But unless someone is visiting, it’s very unlikely that I would say no.” “Cool. We’re on then?” said Ken. I thought of yet another thing: “Oh, and listen, I’m not Carlos. I don’t know what you like or don’t. Communicate. I am trainable. Okay?” “Sure. So, I should really go. I need to eat something, do some studying, and take another shower,” he said, emphasizing the last word and giving me a sideways look. “Wanna give me your phone number and I’ll scoot? Hey, Bud, maybe I’ll see you later.” Ken said, with a wink in his voice. We exchanged numbers and he left. I was a little excited. = = = = = I straightened up the place a little, as much as possible since the main d�cor was still `early cardboard.’ I put on the romantic lighting, which I would do anyway for an evening alone. I also set up the VCR in case Ken wanted to watch the one bisexual porn tape I owned. I showered, put on my sleeping shorts, turned on the TV, and lay down on the bed. More to come.
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32