Just Not Feeling It

Yesterday Man Number One was an encore encounter with the Piano Man (referenced in earlier postings.)  While I don't like to host I agreed to yesterday; he can't host and I offered, though I think I'd have preferred to motel it again.

When he arrived he needed to run to the bathroom and audibly expelled some water, which made feel a bit ill (I understand the physiology and appreciate the effort; though I don't like to hear it.) He was anxious to make out, which is normally my preference, but yesterday it just seemed excessive.  I don't know where my head was, but it wasn't floating my boat for a change.  Perhaps familarity breeds contempt (excuse the pun) but I wasn't feeling "turned on" and I'd expected to be; it has been a couple of weeks since we last fucked.

From the minute he got in the door I really just wanted to fuck him.  I'd awaken horny as hell and really wanted to get straight to fucking, but he'd driven 15 miles, and I wanted to make him feel good as well.  In retrospect, perhaps it would have been better and hotter if I'd just told him that I was so horny I needed to get right to the main course.

Anyway, I was into giving him head and, fortunately, the water he'd expelled had been clear so his ass was nice and clean, and just a tad musky.  I was really into eating it.  However, as his grunts of pleasure were keeping me going, he's occasionally blurt out some nonsequitur question in his normal somewhat high mellifluous voice, which broke the spell "is that rain?" (no, it was my heating system, which blows the heat out of the ceiling/granted, it was a rainy day, but was that an essential question when you are getting your ass eaten?)  I rose and lined up my cock to rub against his ass and he was anxious for lube/fair enough, but it started to get mechanical:  he next needed to get the poppers (I really hate them, but I am not getting fucked...)

I started to fuck him, but it was really wet, he wasn't very tight, and I was getting that "it's going to be a long time if it ever happens" feeling.  Also he tends to really sweat during sex, making it even wetter.  Periodically I was getting into a groove and could feel my load starting to build and he'd want to switch positions (grrr.) Spell again broken.   Needed to reach for the poppers again/again spell broken. It was starting to become work.

At a certain point I said I needed a break and told him that it was too wet.  I wiped off my cock and his ass, and then pushed back into him; he grunted from the greater friction, but there was no way I was going to use more lube.  He was now on his back and it was feeling good, but he was making some kind of bizarre facial expressions (eyes bulging) to convey how much he was enjoying it. He also was hungry to make out throughout it, to an extent that became distracting.  Finally, I decided to close my eyes and concentrated on my cock.  That did the trick, I then  felt it spurting out and a sense of relief, if not tremendous pleasure.  Fortunately he was really enjoying it.  He rolled onto his back and responded "the best ever".   Not hardly, from my perspective.

I was still hard and he swarmed down onto my cock and sucked it into his mouth (kink points for that) and started to give me one of his killer blow jobs.  However, another load wasn't on the horizon for awhile.  I pushed him back and started to suck his nipples and to play with his balls, urging him along by saying we needed to get him off too.  It took forever (yes, the damned poppers came out again) and then, with ample spasming he shot his load.  It was ambundent and he rubbed it on his stomach, which was hot.

Weirdly, I just wasn't feeling the scene, so, after a brief interval said "would you like to shower?"  He did.  I then sat awkwardly in a robe, waiting for him to leave and for me to shower.  He came out and was very chatty as he dressed.  I felt shitty as I just wasn't in the mood; I wanted him to leave and while polite I mostly smiled and responded monosyllabically ( "really" "wow") and didn't prolong the conversation with questions, but very subtly ushered him to the door.  A chaste kiss; thanks/goodbye.

I felt like a heel but I did try to get him off, and did try to engage, but didn't feel like I was all there.  Afterwards I got a nice message from him on a4a and responded with a thanks and my regrets about being a bit tense about hosting.  He responded warmly and graciously, but I really didn't feel as if I'd been especially gracious.   Perhaps if we have a month hiatus it will be better.  Or, perhaps, this has just run its course.