After a while you get disenchanted with the bars in Fort Lauderdale. Mostly you see the same old men in Chardee’s. Oh, occasionally stranger on vacation come in the bar. But if you are there looking for a lover, well, good luck as you’ll need a lot of it. After five years of living in Fort Lauderdale, I rarely went out to the bars. Once in a while I would go to Tropics, but only because I enjoyed eating in the restaurant. At Tropics there was the usual crowd although a little more friendly than Chardee’s, and, of course I enjoyed the bartenders as they were always smiling and fixed the best drinks in town; but still I made few contacts with the possibility of more than a one night stand.
The day I met George, I was bored sitting at home, and just got in the car and started driving. Then I got horny and started thinking where could I pick up some nice old man. I thought about driving down to the Pussy Cat but wasn’t in the mood to drive that far. Also considered the Clubhouse II but didn’t want to run into all the people I knew that regularly visited the bathhouse. So, I found myself heading to Veterans' Park, just off Federal Highway.
I didn’t really expect to pick some up there. Just hoped that maybe in the bathroom I would get a glimpse of an old man pissing. But after parking and going inside the toilet, I found it empty. So, I went back to my car. I had parked under the shade of a tree facing the entrance of the toilet, and with nothing else better to do, I sat there watching the entrance of the toilet.
Several young black guys went inside and some even looked over at my car as though inviting me to join them. I wasn’t the least bit interested, not because they were black, but because they were too young.
A skinny old man rode up on a bicycle. The bicycle had a basket in front and it was piled overflowing with plastic publix bags, each stuffed to the splitting point, mostly with clothing. I figured immediately that the old man was homeless, not that you could tell from his clothes. His blue button up short sleeve shirt looked fresh as did his green work slacks. I watched as he parked his bicycle in the bike rack and took a bike chain and locked it to the rack.
When he turned facing my car while searching through the bags in the basket of his bicycle, I got a good look at his face. It was deeply tanned like someone that was always out in the weather. From the distance he looked very handsome. The features of his long face were delicate and perfectly proportioned. He was clean shaven and so respectable looking that if I hadn’t seen the bicycle and all the plastic bags in its basket, I would have thought he had walked over from one of the nearby condos. He scuffled through the plastic bags, then found the one he was searching for and turned and started walking toward the toilet. He sure didn’t walk like a person down on his luck - his strides were strong, straight backed, prideful steps.
The moment he vanished into the toilet I got out and hurried over. When I entered, the old man was brushing his teeth at the sink nearest the urinals. I walked up to the urinal next to the sink and unzipped my pants and pulled my dick out. I didn’t have to piss. I tried but nothing would come out. Finally, as the old man finished rinsing his mouth out, I said. “Hard to piss when you have prostate problems.”
The old man turned to face me. I got my first glimpse of his big brown eyes. They were soft and affectionate and perfectly matched his deeply tanned face.
“Yeah, it’s bad to get old. But you’re still young.” He smiled before turning back to look at himself in the mirror. “Heck, just wait until you get my age."
“You look in great shape,” I said, still holding my dick in my hand as though I was trying to take a piss.
“I exercise a lot and don’t eat too much out of necessity, I’m afraid,” he said, in a voice almost so low that I could barely understand him.
“You live in Fort Lauderdale?” I asked.
“Well, I guess you could say that. At least for a couple more months. Then when it starts getting a little chilly here, I head down to Key West,” he added, turning to glance at me again.
I played again like I was straining to piss and I said, “Must be nice to have a house down in Key West and one here too?”
The old man smiled. “Yeah, that would be nice. But that bicycle outside is the only home I have.” He added turning back to stare into the mirror again. “Used to have a house in upstate New York. Was a doctor up there. Then things happened...” he said, his voice trailing off sadly. “But I don’t listen to them anymore.”
“I was thinking of going to a bar for a drink, care to join me?” I asked.
“Don’t drink. But thanks for the invite.”
The old man started packing up his plastic bag.
“How about lunch? Want to join me for lunch?” I said, suddenly desperate to find some way to spend more time with the old man.
“You don’t have to do that. I’ll get something at the shelter tonight.”
The old man said turning to look at me again. He smiled. “Looks like you're not going to force even a drop out,” he said, nodding to my dick that had turned semi hard.
“Guess not,” I said pushing it back into my short pants. “Come on over to my place and I’ll fix us some sandwiches and a big glass of milk.”
The old man shrugged. “Sounds great. But what do I do with my bike.”
“Take your bags out of the basket and put them in my trunk. Your bike will be safe here, at least long enough for us to have lunch and then I’ll drive you back.” I promised him.
“Well, you sure are nice to invite me for lunch. Most people act like I’m trash.” The old man reached up and rubbed his almost bald head, and added, “Well, I guess I am that and worse.”
We chit chatted about everything from baseball to the Middle East as I drove home. The old man kept jumping from one topic to another, almost in mid sentence. And I surprised myself by not rubbing my crotch or doing anything that would give the old man the idea that I was gay. I didn’t know what he was thinking about me, but I was enjoying his company so much that I didn’t want to make a pass at him, yet, and get turned down.
“I live in a rental,” I told the old man as I drove up in the alley behind my apartment in the fourplex. It’s not much of an apartment as everything is old and run down, but the neighborhood is so nice that I keep staying here. It’s less than half a block from the intercoastal and two blocks to the ocean,” I explained as I unlocked the kitchen door.
“See? The appliances are old and rusty.”
I felt ashamed of the frig and the stove as I lead the old man through the kitchen to the oak table. “Have a seat. Won’t take me but a minute to make some sandwiches.” I went to the frig and pulled out the jug of milk. “Here. Have a glass of milk while you wait.”
The old man thanked me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him staring at the glass of milk like it was something special before he finally reached his weathered hand out and grasped the glass with long fingers. He took a small drink - as though he was sipping fine wine. And the look on his face was almost dreamy. I couldn’t help but wonder how long it had been since he had drunk a glass of ice cold milk.
“Wow! I sure ate a lot,” the old man said, after finishing his third sandwich. “I feel like a dog after I eat.” The old man pushed his chair away from the table.
“And how is that?” I asked.
“Like curling up and taking a nap,” he said.
“Why not. Let’s both take a nap,” I said quickly.
“How about my bike? I should go back to the park. Wouldn’t want it stolen,” he added. “But taking a nap on something soft sure would hit the spot.” He was smiling from ear to ear. “I usually sleep on a park bench. But it hard to sleep."
“Yea, I guess it would be hard sleeping on a hard park bench,” I said.
“No, it’s the voices that keep me awake,” the old man said.
“What? Some young guys partying in the park all night?” I asked.
“No, the voices in my head. They kept talking to me. I don’t listen to them any more. Got me in trouble back when I was a doctor. But it’s still hard to sleep at night with them rambling on,” the old man divulged, still smiling his beautiful smile.
I started to ask him what the voices told him but decided to leave it be. “Come on let’s take a nap,” I said, getting up out of my chair. I didn’t know if the old man would follow me and was afraid to look back until I was inside the bedroom. But there he was, right behind me. “It’s a king size bed. Big enough for the both of us,” I said. Then I pulled off my shirt. “Why don’t we strip down to your under shorts? It’ll be more comfortable,” I said. I really didn’t think the old man would go along with me but he did.
I got an erection when he pulled his shirt off. He body was moon pale. His chest bristled with gray hair that ran down to his navel. He was wearing a pair of boxer shorts and I could see white pubic hair through the slight gap in the fly of his shorts. Luckily, I was wearing jockey shorts and they were tight fitting and sort of hid my erection as I climbed on the bed. “Come on and let’s take a nap,” I said, patting the bed beside me.
The old man didn’t hesitate. He sat on the edge of the bed and then turned and lifted his legs up onto the bed and lay down. The old man and I were side by side - so close that my hand, which was by my side, was touching his boxer short just below the waist band.
“Bed feels real good. Don’t remember the last time I slept on a bed,” the old man said as he closed his eyes.
I lay beside him in a state of excitement. The nearness of the old man caused my dick to start jerking. I pressed my hand against his hip. The sensation of just touching him gave me a thrill. So what if he is crazy, I thought. He looked harmless to me.
When the old man didn’t react to the pressure of the back of my hand against his hip, I slowly began to rub it slightly up and down his hip and thigh. I expected the old man to stop me at any moment. That anticipation also excited me. I felt like a kid doing something totally forbidden and expected to be caught by his father at any moment.
But when the old man didn’t react to the slow rubbing motion of my hand, I lifted my hand placing my fingers on the cotton fabric of his boxer short covering his upper thigh. I left my hand there feeling the thrill of the moment and almost holding my breath at what might happen next. I waited what seemed like an eternity to me but probably was one a few minutes before slowly moving my finger slightly toward the fly of his boxer shorts. Again I expected him to rebuke me at any moment. Only when several minutes passed without him reacting did I start inching my finger toward his fly, moving them slowly so much so that they hardly seemed to move at all.
Then the tips of my finger touched the fly of his boxer shorts. I paused. Fearing to go any further but unable to turn back, I pushed my index finger into the opening of the old man’s boxer short and did stop until it touched the soft flesh of his penis. I froze, waiting for a reaction. But when none came, I gather up enough courage to begin tracing my index finger down the shaft of his dick. His dick was long. I had to reach my entire hand inside his boxer short to run my fingers far enough down to touch the foreskin-covered tip of his dick.
“Are you asleep?” I asked, realizing that the old man couldn’t possibly be asleep, and needing to know just how far I could go with him.
“No. I’m wide awake.”
“Let’s take off our shorts off. Do you mind?” I asked, as I took my hand away from his dick and reached down and jerked down my jockey shorts causing my fat dick to spring straight up. I rose onto my elbows and turn to watch the old man slowly pull his boxer short off. Then watched as he lay back onto the bed. The old man cock was half again longer than mine. It wasn’t as fat but almost twice as long. Like the rest of his body, except for his face and arms, his dick was moon pale. I thought as I looked down on his dick that it was getting hard. As it was beginning to elongate, sliding down over his balls like some pale snake.
“Can I suck it?” I finally asked the old men.
“No. I don’t go for that,” he said, causing a wave of disappoint to sweep over me. Then the old man sat up and turned to me and grabbed me with almost supper human strength and turned me over on my stomach as though I was a child. Then I felt him mounting me. “I don’t mind fucking a queer,” he said, as I heard him spitting. When the head of his long dick touched my asshole it was wet with spit. “I figured you were queer when I saw you in the bathroom,” he said, his lips touching my right ear, “Like I said, I don’t mind fucking a queer.” He slowly, gently, put pressure on his dick head.
I felt his dick head prying open my asshole. It hurt. I winced from the burning pain when the head of the old man’s dick entered me. I called out when he suddenly shoved almost half of his long dick into me. He snickered and shoved the rest of his dick into me. He was fucking me like I was a woman. Slowly, as he fucked me, the pain turned to pure pleasure and I started lifting my ass so that the old man could drive his dick deeper into me.
He had me moaning like a whore as he pumped his dick relentlessly in and out of my asshole. His dick reached so deep inside me that I could feel it half up my body. God! It felt wonderful. I started calling out and thrashing under him from the intensity of the pleasure. I had been fucked before but never like he was fucking me. For the first time in my life, I knew how a woman must feel getting fucked by her husband.
Then the old man was cumming inside me. He shoved his dick up to his balls inside my asshole and pumped shot after shot of cum into me. Then he pulled out and rolled over on his back not saying a word.
I could feel his cum oozing out of my asshole. Even so, I turned over on my back and looking down at his long deflated dick started jacking my hard fat cock. I pumped it as I stared at the old man’s dick that had just been deep inside me. I love looking at it and knowing that I had taken its entire length inside me. I shot off on my stomach and chest with a loud moan.
As I lay naked beside the old man in the after glow of cumming, I reached over and took his hand in mine. The old man let me hold his hand in mine as we both fell asleep.
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