I loved Paul. He was older than me by about 4 years and was a Roman Catholic priest who had been sent for further studies in the graduate school that I was attending. We met at a luncheon to welcome new students into the MDiv/PhD program late in August of 1986, and I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He was short and slender – no surprise that I would like that! – however, for the first time in my life I discovered that I was strongly attracted to a man with facial hair and (I quickly learned) a moderate amount of dark fur on his chest!
He was seated next to me at the table, and as the luncheon progressed our private conversation covered our various experiences in both education and in the ordination process of our two different denominations. Paul had been ordained a transitional deacon in 1985 and a priest that May, just a few months before being sent to study for a second master’s degree and a doctorate. For his own part, he was fascinated by my educational background, about the candidacy process that my denomination required for its clergy, and also confessed that he was envious of my travels during my undergraduate school years. After the luncheon, we spent quite a bit of time together, talking and exploring the campus. Our conversation quickly wandered to living arrangements and, by the end of the week, we had moved in together in an off-campus apartment.
I was lusting after him long before then. I would allow my eyes to roam his thin wiry body, scanning his arms, his shoulders, his waist, his ass, and his legs. I hadn’t had a chance to see him naked, but the beauty of his shoulders, arms, and the rest of his upper body were evident in the tank-top he wore as we moved his stuff into the apartment; his legs and butt were also beautifully exposed by the tight-fitting gym shorts that he wore. I was having trouble concealing my raging hard-on, and I couldn’t shake the impression that Paul was standing, moving, bending over, and lingering in certain poses so-as to show himself off to me. As I later found out, that was precisely what he was doing, and he was also very sexually aroused doing it. What surprised me the most about my reaction, and I thought about it as that move-in day lingered on, was how I was reacting to a man who was (1) several years older than me, and (2) hairy. I’d not been with many hairy guys before. Oh, one or two of the men I had had sex with over the years either had or were developing some hair on their chest, and most had a moderate amount of hair on their arms and legs, but for the most part the guys I had been with had been very smooth … either naturally or through shaving or depilating. Indeed, prior to this experience I had mostly been turned off by hairy guys: my middle school coach, who had raped me, had been very hairy … yuck! More importantly, I was a hairy bear … why would I need another!?
The evening we moved in together we ordered pizza. While we were waiting for it we each took a shower. I then busied myself setting up the TV and VCR. We didn’t have cable yet, so I asked Paul what he’d like to watch … I had a bunch of movies and TV shows on videotape to choose from. After looking through my collection, we both agreed on a new one that had been given to me for the prior Christmas but which I hadn’t opened yet: The Breakfast Club. Once the pizza arrived, we settled down on the couch side-by-side to eat and watch. Since there wasn’t any other place to sit (boxes and bags of stuff were all over the place) I continued sitting on the couch while Paul decided to slip onto the floor by my side. As we ate, we watched and laughed, and enjoyed the film and each other’s company. After the food was gone, we continued watching and, at some point, I noticed that Paul had shifted so that he was sitting on the floor between my spread legs; he had put his arms around my right leg and had allowed his head to rest against my right thigh while he continued to stare at the screen. My heart stopped. It felt so good and tender and right. While I didn’t want to screw up a potentially good thing, I decided to take a chance and so I started to lightly caress his head, running my fingers through his dark hair all the way to his scalp. I was slow, gentle, and deliberate, and this also felt “right.” After a bit, he moaned, and tilted his head back to gaze up at me. When I noticed what he was doing, I looked down into his deep, dark, gorgeous eyes, and I felt my heart starting to race with excitement. It was then that he said: “You’re so adorable.” I replied that he was very sexy and that I could swim in his eyes. And that did it. Paul turned his head and kissed my thigh, then got up and sat down on my lap. He put an arm around my broad shoulders, looked down into my face, and smiled. He said something about finding something out right then and there, and I reached up and cupped his cheek in my hand. His beard wasn’t scratchy or stiff; it was soft and thin and yielded to my touch. He closed his eyes and said: “it’s been a long time.” I told him to hush and then I pulled his head down and kissed him on his lips. He groaned, melted into my arms, and gave me an amazing open-mouthed kiss that lasted (it seems to me, now) forever. We sat like that on the couch for a long time, making out, exploring each other’s bodies through our clothes, and breathing in the captivating scent of each other. It was amazing.
We were still there, kissing and sharing intimate touch with each other, long after the movie had ended. His cock had gotten really hard and, when he turned to rub it against my leg, I suddenly stood up, gathering him into my arms, and carried him down the hallway to my room. As we passed what was supposed to be his room, he said “we’ll probably need to put our twin beds together, so we’ll have more space.” I replied: “tomorrow will be soon enough for that.”
In my room, I put him standing onto the floor and then removed his t-shirt. His body was everything I had hoped: slender, compact, tight muscles, perfectly balanced across his upper body; he had clearly worked out some, but not a lot, and his build was somewhere between a runner’s and a swimmer’s. There was no hair on his back, but his upper chest was nicely covered – not densely, but definitely more hair than I normally prefer – and there was also that thin train of hair down from his chest to his flat stomach and his belly button; from his belly button the “love train” ran on down into the top of his shorts and, I was sure, joined up with his pubic hair. His frame was narrow, with a V-shaped tapering from his chest to a very narrow waist; his skin was a bit darker (swarthy) than I’m used to, but that just added a touch of the “exotic” to him. His lips were also fuller than I was used to, his eyes were very dark, and his hair was almost black but very soft. I ran my fingertips lightly down his front, lingering on his narrow waist (he wore 29” pants, and those were sometimes loose). He apologized that he didn’t have a 6-pack, but I told him that I really liked my guys natural, and he thanked me. I joked about having a keg, and he laughed and said: “bears are for loving on.”
I slowly began to pull down his gym shorts, revealing no underwear underneath and a trim bush of soft hair surrounding a hard, nicely sized cock that had delicate-looking veins on its sides and a perfectly proportioned head. He was cut, and his cock stood out straight from his body with a very slight bend to the right; he was so slender that his cock was longer than his body was thick, which was VERY hot. He stepped out of his shorts and then took another couple of steps away from me, turning to display himself. “What do you think?” I told him that he looked “scrumptious.” He grinned, then put his hands on his hips, his dick pointing straight at me, and waited. I said: “Oh, so you want to see the gorilla?” And, without waiting for a reply, I pulled my t-shirt off over my head. As I did that, and while my arms were raised and my head was still in my t-shirt, Paul dashed to me and ran his fingers up my chest, then around and down my back; he hugged me tight and cried out “YES!” He then began kissing me all over, hugging me tightly, and rubbing his cock up against me. My cock was straining against my gym shorts, so Paul pulled them down, dropped my underwear, and then went to his knees to look at my cock. After a moment, he gazed up at me with his huge puppy-dog eyes and said, “That’s going to feel so good in my ass.”
My cock was oozing copious amounts of precum, which Paul noted immediately by saying “if you don’t have any lube, that should be enough to get me ready.” I laughed and told him I had lube, never fear. I then got a bottle that was still in one of the boxes on the desk in my room, and then picked Paul up and put him down on my twin bed and then climbed onto the bed, kneeling over him. As I gazed down on him I felt my cock throbbing with excitement and a dollop of pre-cum oozed out of my head and dribbled down to land right on top of his dick. He gasped with excitement, and then opened his arms to me as I lowered myself down on top of him; we began making out again, rubbing ourselves against each other. My cock was definitely gushing precum, I was so excited, and while humping him lowly I noticed that his crotch and leg were getting smeared in my juice. After a while, Paul said that he couldn’t stand it any longer and that he just had to have my meat in him. So, he sat up, took the lube, liberally applied it to my cock, then his hole, and then he climbed on top and mounted me in one swift motion that had me buried deep in his hole, all the way down to my balls. This was our first time, and yet Paul road my cock like a master, adjusting his angle as he road, speeding up and slowing down, rocking up until my cock was almost all the way out of his ass, then sliding back down until the base of my cock was gripped by his sphincter and I could feel head of my cock “touching bottom” way up inside him. All along the length of my shaft, I could feel the walls of his anus pressing in on my cock – I was completely filling his rectum with my meat, and the realization of that was quite exhilarating to me. As Paul road me, up and down, he caressed my chest, running his fingers through the fur there, while I reciprocated with him. As he rode me his hard cock began to dribble precum, smearing sexily onto my stomach. When I started to get close to cumming, Paul somehow sensed it and began to slow down. He even stopped several times, when I warned him how close I was, in order to keep me from blowing. Yes, Paul was definitely NOT a novice at gay sex … thank God!
After fucking for a long time – fifteen minutes, I think, although time blurs – I had reached the condition where it didn’t matter what precautions we took, even just the slightest motion would have sent me over the top; so close was I to nutting that Paul couldn’t even pull off or I would blow; and, indeed, he had to be very relaxed and not flex his sphincter, or that would probably send me over the top, too. Neither of us wanted this to be over, however, so he sat very still with my cock up his chute and we talked. He asked me if I liked harry guys; I said that I’d not had sex with many; he said that was ok, and he would get some Nair and depilate the fur off his chest. I told him he didn’t have to do that, but he said he didn’t mind … he said he thought he looked better smooth, and that he’d kept his chest and stomach hairless for his prior boyfriend and would do the same for me. I asked him if he liked “big guys,” and he said that he much preferred guys “with meat on them” because “they aren’t as narcissistic as buff dudes.” We talked about a few more of our preferences, but by that time Paul was slowly starting to move again, and while he rocked back and forth and up and down, he also began firmly stroking his own cock. I replaced his hand with mine and noticed how hot, hard, and heavy his dick was. I told him how beautiful it, and his whole body, was, and that I desperately wanted to suck his dick, but he protested that it was covered with way too much lube for that. I vowed I would give him a full blow job the very next thing, and he thanked me and said he would hold me to that. It was then that I realized I was so close to cumming that there wasn’t anything I was going to be able to do about it; my hips raised off the bed as I pushed my cock as deeply into Paul as it could possibly go, and for a moment the head of my dick mashed hard against the back of his rectum as it swelled in a single pulse and released a heavy, thick load up into his ass. A moment later, a splash of cum rocketed out of Paul’s cock and sprayed my face and my chest. I opened my mouth and took his second shot on my tongue, to which Paul cried “bullseye!”
Yes, Paul was a master bottom, enjoyed being fucked in every position I could find, and was always happy to accommodate me whenever I needed to be in his ass. Despite his small frame, his rectum’s depth wasn’t particularly shallow, so my cock could only just barely reach bottom, and try as I might I never was able to penetrate his rectosigmoid junction, but that didn’t matter. Paul’s hole was sweet, deep, hot, tight, and perfect. It was responsive to my touch, open to my tongue, and very pretty to look at as he could keep it open for a dozen or more seconds when I pulled out. Paul shared that, as a youth he had experimented taking many things into his ass before finally getting fucked by a friend. Not long before graduating from High School, that friend and he had begun exploring their bodies, and he discovered how much he loved – no, the word he used was “craved” – being fucked. And, because of that craving, he’d had sex with a lot of guys and in multiple ways, including 3 and 4-way gang-bangs with him as the bottom. He eventually told me about his history, almost fearing that it would repel me, but I admitted to him that it only made me hornier when thinking about him, and that led me to sharing my sexual past with him (everything except for having been raped … that was still too raw and unprocessed, and so I never shared that with him).
Even with his experience in group sex, one of the things that Paul had never tried before, but wanted to experience, was being fucked by two guys at the same time. I’ll share that story next (see the account about Jeremy) but suffice it to say that Paul was incredible at being double-fucked. Some guys can only barely take two cocks in their ass at the same time, and even then they can’t last for more than a dozen or so strokes before it’s just too much for them. Other guys are good at it and can keep receiving until the two guys doing the fucking cum. Paul turned out to be one of the very best with whom I’ve enjoyed the practice, and he excelled in finding different positions to take us for as long as we wanted. Perhaps it’s just because he LOVED getting fucked, and never seemed to tire of it, but he was fantastic at it.
Sadly, Paul wasn’t into fucking guys. I invited him to top me on multiple occasions, but he shared that he hadn’t liked doing it the few times he’d tried it; it had nothing to do with not liking a guy’s ass, he just didn’t “feel right” fucking someone. To prove that it didn’t have anything to do with not liking my ass, Paul did something that very few guys have ever done for me: Paul had me get on my knees and he licked my asshole. I couldn’t believe it. It was amazing! I had feasted on LOTS of guys’ holes, I enjoyed doing it, and I had done so with Paul, but I had only rarely had my own hole slathered by a sexy tongue. Paul slathered mine. He worked his tongue in as far as he could, rimmed me good, and put fingers up me as far as he could. We got a vibrating dildo and, on many occasions, he would put that up my ass while he stroked me or road my cock. It felt very good, but I do wish he would have fucked me. It just wasn’t his thing.
I’ve always been pretty good at sucking dick, but with Paul I got to be even better. He would have me lay on my back while he knelt over me and drilled his cock into my mouth and to the very back of my throat, again and again. When he’d cum in that position, he could gag me, but Paul’s length wasn’t so much that it caused me trouble except on the occasion when he’d cum deep in the back of my throat. My husband’s cock is longer and he gags me more frequently, but he usually pulls back until his cock's head is on my tongue when he cums, and that helps me to drink the load down. But Paul usually didn’t cum that way with me. More often, we would roll over and I would crouch on the bed between his legs and suck his cock for all I could until he would blow, flooding my mouth with a massive load of sweet tasting, slightly salty cream. Most of the time, though, Paul would prefer to cum with my cock in his ass, with me either pounding him from bellow or taking him “missionary style,” which enabled us to kiss. That was Paul’s favorite position, as it is mine unto this day. In that position I am in control, I enjoy holding a guy down, kissing him, and watching his facial expressions as they receive me. I enjoyed how Paul would hang on to my shoulders and arms, caress my chest and tummy, and wrap his arms around my back and pull himself up to cleave against me. Our passion for each other was really, and strong, and mutually shared.
Yes, Paul had more hair than I would have liked, but for most of our time together he kept himself very smooth with depilatory cream. He didn’t shave his legs or take the hair off his crotch (though I did discover that he trimmed it some), but I never asked him to do either. His back was naturally smooth, and there wasn’t any fur on his ass or in his crack. For about three years he would shave his face smooth every day, but as we got into our fourth year together I told him that if he wanted to grow the beard he should. He did, keeping it fairly thin and trimmed, and sometimes shaving it all the way back off and letting it grow again. It looked good on him, though I will always think that men are better looking when they’re clean-shaven. But that’s just my opinion. For instance, my husband being clean shaven enables me to see his amazingly sharp, sexy jaw line. And kissing a clean-shaven face is far more pleasant for me than having to kiss through a forest.
Paul and I had a high-intensity love affair that lasted 4 years and was filled with plenty of sex as well as deeply meaningful companionship. I truly loved him, and he loved me, but we both knew that because of where our vocations would take us, and the nature of the ministry in most Christian denominations at that time, it probably couldn’t last. It was a realization that plagued us, especially during the last year of our residencies. As our course work wound down and we both began to focus upon our dissertation proposals, our excitement at entering that important phase of our educations was tempered by the pain of our impending departures. When that day came, the heartache was heavy and the tears were many. I moved to one side of the country for ordination, pastoral ministry, and to finish researching and write my dissertation; he returned to his part of the country for much the same future. We saw each other on multiple occasions when we returned to campus for continuing doctoral seminars with our cohort group and to meet with our dissertation advisors; we took advantage of those visits to have sex, but we each quickly discovered that as the months stretched into years, our lives had moved on. After we both finished our dissertations, defended them, and graduated, we mutually agreed that we needed to find happiness where we were. We parted, a last time, on very good terms, and have managed to maintain contact over the decades. We both ended up teaching in graduate seminaries, and I’ve also spent quite a while as a church pastor. For his own part, he’s apparently on the fast track to being selected for the episcopacy. We both have had significant relationships with other men: I’m now out of the closet, legally married, and am enjoying my ministry as both a professor and church pastor. He, for his part, has sadly had to stay in the closet, but I know he has found joy in his ministry and also in his sex life. The last time we talked on the phone he shared with me that, as much joy as his current lover gives him, he has never found a man who fulfilled him as much as I did. That was both kind and flattering, and I pray that if his current lover doesn’t up his game, that someone else will come along to give him the sexual, emotional, and spiritual wholeness he deserves.
