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Here’s my setup: my name is Kay. I’m 23 years old and I just got a job last year in Japan, straight out of university. I’m of medium height but I’ve got a very svelte, athletic, and lithe body because of all the running I do. On my days off, I take short motorcycle trips around Japan for fun.
And today was the first day of a special trip. I was taking a multi-day motorcycle touring trip around Hokkaido, Japan’s northernmost island. I lived near Osaka, so I reserved a bunk in a multi-person bunk room and space to transport my motorcycle on one of the huge transport ships that ply the waters between Maizuru, near Kyoto, to Otaru, in western Hokkaido. The trip by sea takes more than a full day.
But the trip didn’t have a propitious start. I only reserved a bunk, which meant that I would have to use the communal baths inside the ship. I was already used to public bathing in Japan, so that wasn’t a big deal. In fact, after a few hours of riding in my motorcycle gear from Osaka to Maizuru in the humid and hot summer weather of central Japan, I was looking forward to a bath, with many people or not.
I flung my motorcycle gear on my bunk and got ready to take a bath, but as soon as I found the door to the communal baths, I saw the sign.
故障の為、使用不可
In English, it meant “Can’t be used due to malfunction.”
Just fucking great. No bath for me. I was already a sweaty mess and I was going to stay a sweaty fucking mess until I checked in to my first hotel in Hokkaido in two days.
I pouted my way to the cafeteria at the front of the ship, already imagining the smells that would permeate my multi-person cabin that night. I was going to smell like someone who needed to take a shower; everyone else was also going to smell like someone who needed to take a shower.
I got a ticket for my lunch from the vending machine near the cafeteria entrance and joined the line to the window at which the tickets were exchanged for the actual food. Everyone paid for their food on the way out of the cafeteria.
There was another tall Caucasian man in front of me in the line had the same leather motorcycle jacket that I did! (This actually isn’t all that rare. There aren’t millions of motorcycle gear manufacturers, and in Japan there are even fewer.)
“Hey, nice jacket!” I just announced in English to the back of this man whom I had never met.
A handsome, tall, and big middle aged man turned around to face me. Silver flecks peppered his neatly trimmed brown hair. This avuncular good looks shone on his shaven face. His frame looked enhanced because motorcycle jackets do that, but even without the jacket on, he would probably still be very muscular and built.
I grabbed the collar ends on both sides of my jacket and yanked on them each once to indicate to him that I had the same jacket, smiling widely as I did so.
He took one look at me and my matching jacket, and then smiled a radiant friendly white smile.
“Wow, I hope that’s not the only thing we have in common,” he said in English, grinning happily. He spoke with an easy American accent. He might even be from the American west coast like me.
I laughed a little, suddenly unsure of how to traverse out of my opening gambit. Jacket-talk wasn’t the conversational jumping board that I thought it was.
“You’re touring Hokkaido too?” he asked, throwing me a metaphorical rope from which to save myself from my lack of conversational skills.
“Yeah, first time for me,” I retorted, still grinning.
“Ah, the first time is always the most memorable!” he rejoined with alacrity, continuing to smile widely. Wow, he had a great smile. It really set me at ease.
He stuck his right hand out to me.
“My name is ‘Sire’,” he said as I took his hand to shake.
“Wait. What? Your name is ‘Sire’? Like ‘My sire’ ‘My master’ that kind of thing?” I asked quizzically, my head tilting to the left slightly, giggling because I thought it was a joke.
“Yeah, that’s it. And I like it when you call me ‘My Sire’,” he replied, continuing to shake my hand, smirking to himself.
“Wow, cool name, my Sire,” I said, elongating the vowels in “my sire” as a joke. I even curtsied once. I smiled and giggled a little at my own stupid joke.
This interaction was off to a weird but good start, I thought to myself. He giggled with me and held my hand a little longer than normal. He had big hands. He kept smiling at me. He was very tall. He kept shaking my hand.
I smiled up at him, letting him shake my hand for longer than normal, and I was suddenly shy. This guy was big. He had a presence about him.
“And your name?” he said, encouraging me to identify myself, continuing to hold my hand.
“Oh sorry. It’s just, wow. Yeah, my name is ‘Kay’,” I said, suddenly flustered. My face flushed slightly red all of a sudden. I really was acting like a dunce.
“‘Kay?’ Like ‘okay’? I like that name! Very approving!” he said, laughing at his own joke.
I laughed again. Why was I laughing? It wasn’t even a very good joke. But he seemed to be able to draw the funny right out of me.
“Thanks şişli escort for the compliment, my Sire,” I replied, again elongating the vowels in “my sire” for no reason other than I thought his name was kind of cool.
He finally let go of my hand and his fingers slowly sidled along mine as he broke contact.
“Care to join me for lunch, Kay?” he asked, one of his hands stretching to the empty table at which he intended to eat.
“Sure, Sire,” I responded.
“Okay ‘Kay’,” he replied instantly, playing homophony games with my name, and then winked once at me before picking up his lunch tray from the window counter and walking over to his table.
I watched him walk away from the pick up window, his nice tight butt cycling up and down in his tight riding jeans as he stepped away from me.
Why was I looking at his ass? I wondered this to myself after I realized that I was doing it.
I picked up my lunch at the window counter and took the corresponding bill with me to Sire’s table.
While we ate lunch, after I complained about the communal baths being closed for maintenance, we talked about motorcycles. At least, that’s what I thought we were talking about at first. But I wasn’t very cognizant of innuendo. Or metaphors. Or synecdoche. Or whatever they are called.
“You were the guy who came in on the trident 660, right?” Sire asked while ineptly fumbling his chopsticks through the noodles in his udon bowel. I deduced that he was either new to Japan or chopsticks or both.
“Yeah, that’s me,” I replied, smiling widely as I split apart my wooden chopsticks into two. Wow, he remembered me even when I had a full motorcycle helmet on. Our matching jackets must have turned his eye too.
“Oh that’s a great bike. I love riding tridents,” he said.
“They’re great bikes. They’re easy to handle for beginners like me,” I replied and then used my chopsticks to swirl my udon noodles into my mouth.
“Yeah, I love beginners,” Sire said, smiling right at me as my mouth was halfway filled with noodles.
“Yeah,” I replied slowly, continuing to slurp my noodles and think about his weird phrasing.
“So, do you like it more when it’s easy to handle or when it’s a little more than you can manage?” Sire asked me after a few seconds of silence, the choice of pronouns ambiguous and purposeful.
“Me? I just got my motorcycle license. I don’t know if I could handle anything bigger than what I got right now,” I replied, a sliver of uncertainty in my voice.
“Oh. You just started out? Well, it’s still important to let yourself try something bigger sometimes,” he said. He smiled easily and then slurped down some of his noodles.
“Oh, how big is the engine on your bike? Is it easy to ride?” I asked, deciding to play innuendo right back.
“Well, most young guys who ride my bike get overwhelmed at first, but pretty soon they start to like it,” he responded and then smiled wryly.
“Oh okay. A lot of young guys ride your bike?” I retorted, chortling in response to his barely concealed innuendo.
“Quite a few, actually,” he rejoined.
“Wow. Does this work for you? Just instantly start hitting on guys half your age?” I asked. I placed my chopsticks across my udon bowel and then rested my head in one of my palms, waiting his answer. I stared into his eyes.
“Sometimes. Depends on the guy. And how much they like riding,” he retorted, and then took another slurp of noodles. It took a very confident guy to slurp a lot of noodles in such a way that it displayed confidence. But Sire pulled it off.
“Okay, wow. You’re aggressive,” I said, picking my chopsticks off my bowel and breaking eye contact with him.
“Too much? I’m definitely not trying to turn you off,” Sire said slowly, a hint of contrition seeping into his voice.
“No. It’s okay. You’ve totally got the handsome biker daddy thing going on really good. I get it,” I said, one of my hands swirling in a vortex in front of me in his general direction.
“Get what?” he asked, his head tilting slightly, his easy smile returning to his lips.
“Why young guys would be into you,” I clarified.
He chortled, amused at my observation.
“There. I said it. Just wanted you to know,” I added, holding both of my hands up in a surrender pose, one chopsticks in each hand.
“I’m glad you think I’m handsome,” Sire stated.
“Can I ask you something?” I asked, putting my chopsticks back on top of my bowl and then taking up my water cup, holding it up to my cheek.
“Yeah,” Sire said.
“How old are you? That’s got to be a big part of it,” I asked.
“46. You’re probably not wrong about me being about twice your age, Kay. Is that something you like?” Sire asked and then took a sip of his own water, his eyes boring into mine as he awaited my response.
“Yeah. I’m 23. That’s what does it. Sexy biker daddy vibes like crazy,” I said. What the hell was I saying? Why did I just call him sexy? Other than the obvious reason that he was pretty sexy.
He stared into my eyes for a few moments.
I beyoğlu escort smiled. I put my water cup down on the table.
The silence was strangely comfortable.
“And you? You’re quite handsome too. Girlfriend or wife waiting for you in Hokkaido?” Sire inquired.
“Oh no. My girlfriend is in Osaka. But she hates that I ride bikes. She would never come on a trip like this,” I responded.
Sire nodded to indicate he was listening.
“But to be honest, half of the fun of these motorcycle trips is getting away from my girlfriend,” I added.
“Oh I get that. I get that,” Sire responded instantly and in rapid cadence, smiling widely, nodding affirmatively.
“What! Same for you? Motorcycle trips are an escape from the wife?” I asked.
“Yup. Exactly. We just moved from the States to Kyoto, but I always take some time out of the year to be by myself and have some fun,” he replied.
“Oh, then me and you are headed to more than just the same destination,” I observed without thinking too much about what I’d said might be interpreted.
He laughed at that and smiled at me again. A few seconds of comfortable silence expanded between us.
“So, do you like riding bikes?” he asked in a weird intonation on “riding bikes.”
“Well, yeah…I…like…riding bikes,” I responded hesitantly, thinking it was obvious that I liked riding bikes, but then I realized that he was slipping into innuendo. Again. Maybe he had never not been innuendo.
“Yeah, that’s totally what I meant,” Sire snorted and then took another swig of his water from his cup.
“Oh,” I responded lamely, finally realizing what he was saying.
“You’re really cute, Kay. A little dense, but really cute,” he said while smiling his radiant smile, obviously enjoying my embarrassment.
“Oh, uh, thanks?” I replied, unsure tones reverberating through my response.
“Do you think you’d like to take a ride?” he asked, smiling widely and then taking a sip of his water.
He waited for that to sink in.
I stared at him for a few seconds, the possible interpretations of his statement percolating in my mind.
“Uh, I dunno,” I replied at long last, my head tilting down to break eye contact and stare at my coffee cup on the table.
“Have you ever ridden a bike before?”
“Uh ye-” I said before he interjected.
“I’m not talking about motorcycles,” he stated flatly and in rapid cadence.
Silence pervaded the space between us again.
“That obvious is it? Well, then, no,” I responded hesitantly.
“Have you thought about it?” Sire inquired, his head slightly tilting left at the end of his question.
Silence. I gulped nervously then answered.
“Yeah, I’ve thought about it…” I responded slowly.
“Just never tried it?” Sire said, resting one of his palms under his jaw.
“Never,” I replied after a few seconds of hesitation. I audibly gulped once.
“That’s no problem with me. And we’re both stuck on this boat for the next day and a half. I could make it really enjoyable for you,” Sire said, planting his jaw in one of his palms.
“Oh…,” I said slowly.
“Seriously. You should take a ride once. You might like it. In my experience, young straight guys really like riding my bike,” he added.
“Uh, I dunno, I just met you…” I said, my eyes breaking contact with his, my gaze suddenly lowered to my legs.
“Okay, I have a proposition for you then,” Sire said.
“Uh okay,” I responded weakly, gulping again. My palms were suddenly sweaty. I raised my head to look at him again.
“You said the communal baths on the ship are closed for repairs. But I reserved the suite room. It has a private shower. How about you come to my suite and take a shower there?”
Wow. A suite room. Those were expensive. This guy was good looking. And a motorcyclist. And aggressively gay. And rich too?
I stared at him for a few moments.
“Uh I dun-,”
“Hey Kay,” he interjected again before I could finish.
He flashed his mischevious smile at me.
“Decide what you want. You can go back to your group cabin and enjoy the pungent smells of four unwashed motorcyclists all night,” he said, holding one hand up flat above the table to indicate one possible choice.
“Or you can come up to my suite. And you take a shower. And maybe you ride my bike. Maybe you don’t. It’s up to you,” he added, his other hand coming up flat above the table, indicating a second possible choice.
He stood up suddenly. My eyes traced the movement of his powerful frame to standing position.
“I’ll get our bills. Consider lunch my treat. The suite room is on the top deck. I hope to see you again soon Kay,” he said, swiping up both our dinner tickets, and then sauntered away towards the register.
I watched as his nice tight ass in his even tighter riding jeans sauntered away from the table and to the register. I continued to sit at the table flabbergasted at what had just happened. I had some thinking to do. And I decided to do it with my almost empty water etiler escort glass in front of me. It was my only conversation partner anyway.
A hot older guy wanted to have sex with me. I had a girlfriend, but I wasn’t exactly wild about her. If I did end up cheating on her, this wouldn’t even be the first time. I didn’t know what that avuncular good looking man would do to me if I went to his room, but I knew that it would probably entail quite a bit more than just showering.
Did I want to go to his room? Kinda. Would I like it if I were naked with him? Probably. He was hot. Would I like it if he blew me? Most definitely. Who doesn’t like a blowjob? Would I like it if I blew him? I dunno. Maybe. He was definitely attractive. I’d never sucked a dick before though. But would that be the extent of it? What if he wanted me to suck him off? What if he wanted to fuck me? Would I let him? I’d had a kinky girlfriend who liked to finger my ass and I loved it when she did it to me. But he was a big muscular man. I didn’t think I could stop him from doing something to me if he really wanted to do something horrible/wonderful to me.
After ten minutes of silent rumination in the ship’s cafeteria, I was getting hard thinking about the possible permutations of the evening, which were extensive. The more I thought about going to his room, the sexier I thought it could be. I got up and slowly walked to the staircase that led to the upper decks where the suite room was located.
But I was still hesitant, still looking for a sign from the cosmos as to whether I should give it up to this guy.
I quickly found it. (Thank you Cosmos!)
The stairwell literally had “stairwell to heaven” written on its side in English. Of course I logically understood that it was just an advertisement for the upgraded rooms at the top of the ship. The rooms on the top deck of the ship were private and usually ten times as expensive as the multiperson rooms in the lower decks. But I wasn’t thinking very logically. I thought the universe was goading me upward and onward to new things.
He was handsome. If I was going to give up my gay virginity to a guy, it’d be awesome if it was someone who looked like him. From the sound of it, it seemed like he’d taken young guys like me to bed before. Maybe he knew what he was doing. That was definitely a plus because I wouldn’t know what I was doing. It definitely seemed like he knew what he wanted, and that made it hotter for me.
I started to step up the stairs.
He was twice as old as me. But I started to like the idea of doing it with an older guy. If anything, the age difference was a plus. His name was “Sire” for Christ’s sake! It’s like his parents decided to give him a porn name from the get go!
I took more steps slowly up the stairs, and several people passed by me.
It’s good to experiment. Maybe I really like guys?
I took several more steps up.
If it was good, then I knew something new about myself. If it was a bad experience, well, then it was just a one time thing on an aging boat.
I took several more steps upward.
I wanted to sleep with this guy. I wanted to have sex with this guy. I wanted to fuck this guy. I was getting hard.
I got to the top of the stairwell to heaven and now the hallway to heaven stretched before me. There were only a few cabin doors on this level, each an entrance to one of the larger passenger cabins. At the end of the hall was the suite, the largest and most expensive passenger cabin on the ship.
I stood before the door to the suite room. I held up my wrist to knock on the door, but I hesitated my hand an inch away from the door.
I stood there stupidly, frozen in pose. Should I do this? Knocking on his door and not doing it with him was being a tease.
The door seemingly opened of its own accord.
He was standing on the other side of the door, slightly occluded behind it.
“Kay, you’re here,” Sire said, smiling widely.
“Yeah, I’m…here,” I prattled, my arms coming down to my sides suddenly, as if I had just been called to the principal’s office for a dressing down.
“I’m really glad you came,” Sire said, smiling widely.
“You were just waiting behind the door, looking through the hole?” I asked.
He giggled once.
“In my experience, straight guys come quickly or they don’t come at all,” Sire stated, smiling widely.
“Oh,” I responded lamely. I wondered about the double entendre but it quickly passed.
He smiled at me. I smiled back at him.
“Can I take that shower?” I replied, my hands suddenly dancing to my sides nervously.
“Of course. Shoes off please,” Sire replied, and then motioned me inside his suite with a wave of his hand.
I stepped inside, past him, into the suite room.
I unbuckled my riding boots and socks right by the entrance and placed them in a shoe cubicle next to the door, as was the custom in Japan. Sire was already barefoot, and I saw his larger boots already inside the shoe cubicle.
The suite room really did deserve its name: the large king sized bed was covered in large fluffy comforters; the carpet was a shaggy soft matrix that made walking somewhat bouncy; the kitchenette near the large porthole window in the wall was filled with machines that automated whatever beverage one could think of; the living room in the middle contained a large mahogany dinner table and two chairs.
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32