A Bit Of A Story Of My First Time And It Happened In Paris

In my early thirties I was on an elevator in an office building in the older part of town and a young man got in with me. After the door closed he pushed his pants down and showed off his boner. My reaction was to grab his boner and shove him against the wall.

For years I remembered that feeling of his boner in my hand. It was constant and no matter how I tried, my boner would never give me that same feeling. I worked for a large multinational Agribusiness and I was on a flight from Algiers to Paris and sat beside a Frenchman. He was polite and spoke very good English, told me he had lived in New York for several years and was an all around good company on the flight.

Before arrival he had invited me to dinner, and to show me a little bit of Paris at night. To make things easier he suggested a small hotel near where he lived and I was lucky enough to get a room without any problems. I met him in the lobby, dressed casually for the evening. We went to a small French restaurant, he took charge of the wine and pointed me to what to order. We had a typical French dinner, wine and cheese and a coffee afterwards. He suggested we walk through the streets and go to this club that frequented.

The club was loud, with Technomusic, dark and crowded. We made it to the bar, and he ordered a couple of drinks and his eagle eye spotted a booth that just emptied and we were seated with the dance floor in sight. My eyes became used to the light and I found myself in a club where the boys ruled the roost, no women in sight. Dancing, and huddling at the bar, in corners. My friend kept his hand on my thigh, and from time to time took my hand and caressed it and held it before returning to my thigh.

After an hour or so of watching men dance and kiss on the dance floor, others holding hands, and arms around each other's shoulders he suggested we walk to his place which was a few blocks away. Typical of Europe a small apartment on the fourth floor with a small balcony, one bedroom with a very small living dining and kitchen area. He served some cognac and we talked, out on the balcony he put his arm around my shoulder and turned my face with his other hand and kissed me on the lips and told me he liked me.

I responded by kissing him back and told him he was good company. We left the balcony and on the small sofa he got my pants open and gave me a blowjob, expertly for the uninitiated, I was soon fully erect and he managed to get me to come. With a smile he invited me into his bedroom and soon we were on his bed, I was holding his very erect penis in my hand. I felt that feeling, that feeling that I had not been quite able to pin down, soon I was kissing and sucking on him. Naked, we kissed and spent some time with mutual oral sex, before he got up and came back with a condom.

He fitted me, and with some lubricant he had in the small drawer by the side of the bed, he lubricated my condom ready erection and with a flick his behind. I mounted him, fucked him, with a desire that seemed to have no bounds. In my life I had never felt that depth of desire. I finished with a long withdrawal and he spent some time removing the condom and making love to my penis. We woke in his bed, and I knew I had missed my flight.

We never met again, my work assignment shifted to Latin America and time went by. But I remembered him often. I found other men from time to time, but none gave me that feeling as that first time with in Paris. I enjoy kissing and oral sex and caressing and I mount or allow myself to be mounted, depending on my partner at the time. I particularly enjoy a hard penis in my hand, reminiscent of that young man in the elevator, which awakened this desire in me.