The Maintenance Man

I leaned for a moment on the bed of the old Ford truck. Its rear tires were flat; the paint was peeling and dull. I was standing in the parking area of an ageing apartment complex. The single-story buildings were painted gray; they were of wood that probably had been cut from nearby forests by men who lived in this Oregon logging town. The lawns and walks of the complex were clean, trimmed. I looked to my right. A door opened and a man stepped out, raised his hand and motioned me in.

Meeting men for sex dates on the internet is a curious process. The contact often starts with a simple Hi or the winking eye on my favorite hook-up site. For lots of reasons it usually doesn't go beyond sharing a few dick pics. And, typical of roaming around on the net, I had arrived at Morgan's profile by a circuitous route: a man contacted me through one site and sent a picture with a another site's number on it, a site often used by older guys. I decided to check him out, created a profile and posted it. Nothing came of our flirtation, but three days later a guy from Corvallis contacted me and I did a location search to find his profile. I tripped across Morgan's, in which he offered "full body sensual massage." He was forty years old, two hundred twenty pounds, oral versatile. I have always wanted an erotic massage, so I sent him an email. That's how I arrived here, at this moment, standing by an old pick-up at the Peoria Grove Apartments.

The man who stood in the door was tall, as promised, well built and dressed in brown canvas work pants and a t-shirt. His brown hair was cut short, as was his beard. He looked younger than forty, and handsomer than I'd expected. Since we hadn't exchanged photos, until this moment I really didn't know what to expect. Morgan extended his strong hand and we introduced ourselves. With a friendly expression he beckoned me into the small room.

The window was obscured by a closed Venetian blind, yet the afternoon sun lit and warmed the room. Shelves to my left held plumbing parts, white plastic p-traps and water supply valves. On the desk was a monitor showing four security camera views of the property. Morgan had seen my car enter and anticipated my arrival at his door near the Ford truck. We chatted about building maintenance, something I'd done a bit in my previous work and was happy to have left behind. Morgan, it turned out, was the half-time maintenance man at Peoria Grove. He was married and had children and enough free time to meet guys here for free massages.

We both undressed to our underwear. Morgan spread a fleece blanket on the floor, the kind of blanket you take to a college football game on a chilly evening. The floor was carpeted and soft enough and I lay face down for my massage. Morgan, in his black stretch Jockey briefs, began rubbing my back and legs. His touch was confident. He kneaded the muscles on my shoulders and rubbed between my thighs. I wanted to turn over so I could see his naked body as he touched me. Now I reached up to touch his face, beard, and hair. I asked him if he liked to kiss and he said sometimes.

I stood up and asked Morgan to lie down on his back. I sat on him, pushed my butt against his cock, still in its Jockeys, and he reached his arms over his head. I licked his nipples and armpits and smelled his manliness there. I felt his cock through the cotton shorts with my hands and my mouth.

He took off his shorts and revealed a lovely cock, erect and circumcised, pubic hair neatly trimmed and with smooth brown balls. His whole strong body was tanned and smooth and haired on his chest, legs, and buttocks. I was really lucky to have met this guy. We kissed warmly. He played with my nipples and took my briefs off and sucked on my cock for a moment. I got up, kissed him and licked his chest and nipples and begged him to turn over so I could see his ass and massage his buttocks and the inner parts of his thighs. No objection from Morgan. I straddled his strong brown frame.

Now face down on our blanket I moved my tongue along his smooth round buttocks and into the hairy crack between. He lifted his butt and I spread its flanks with my hands and entered the sacred chamber with my tongue. Reaching under his body, holding his erect cock and smooth balls in my hand, I explored Morgan's dark interior with my tongue. He moaned in pleasure.

Now this guy—this young stud—rolled me over on to my back, reached for a condom and lube from his desk drawer, raised my legs into the air and pushed his manhood into my asshole. I'm an old guy but that didn't stop this man from fucking me. Morgan fucked me like I haven't been fucked in years, his strong brown hands holding my feet as he pounded my ass. He looked into my eyes and plowed into me. We rolled over and I tried to sit on top of his cock. That didn't work so I begged Morgan to sit on my face so I could explore between his legs with my tongue and suck his nuts and smooth erect cock as I lay under his manly frame. I sucked and licked and reached my tongue deep into his dark socket and soon felt his big cock pulsing in my mouth. He shot his load into me and I enthusiastically swallowed the hot spunk. Now he twisted my nipples and I reached for my cock and shot my cum on my belly and the blanket. We were still for a moment now.

We cleaned up with construction grade paper wipes from a roll behind the door. As I got up from the floor where I'd been fucked I noticed the toilet plunger and a drain snake next to the shelves. A heating element for someone's oven hung on the wall.

A day later, walking around my house I feel the muscles of my inner thighs where they were stretched as Morgan pounded my ass. With every step I feel like an athlete after a long workout, stronger for the exercise but exhausted, too. It's a good feeling to have in my mind and in my thighs, the feeling of Morgan fucking me in the afternoon in his maintenance room.