The Irishman and Me

For about 2 months now, I have been in touch with this Irish guy who lives in a city close to my heart. Our exchange happened unexpectedly while I was on a cruising site and the intercontinental conversation just kinda took off from there. He is buff and I'd say desirable amongst men his age range. However the catch is, he is probably 25-30 years older than I am. 

Now although I have no problem enjoying old world wine for everything that it is, but as a young gay who should be taking advantage of being young, I could just as easily say I am not interested in talking to old guys. But you know what, after venturing into the abrupt online cruising world, I started to appreciate all guys regardless of age who could carry on a warm conversation like a mature soul because that's how it should be.

I am not somebody who closes the door to somebody else before giving them a chance. We send each other messages every couple of days and grew close over the past two and a half months. Once in a while, I'd take a picture of my surroundings, of what I see and send it to him just so that we could both share each other's eyes.

I could feel the both of us softening for each other with time. He makes me feel so comfortable and warm that I'm starting to feel like a teenage girl. The truth is, I don't want to develop feelings for him because I refuse to limit myself to a lover his age. But yet, I cannot explain the gelatine that is my heart whenever I talk to him. "How vulnerable you are M!"

I was avoiding this, but gradually over time he finally told me about how he felt between us. About how he was falling for me and that he hated that we are thousands of miles apart. All I could say was thank you. I thanked him profusely for the kind gesture and thoughtful words from the bottom of my heart because nobody, not even girls have ever said those things to me. I am that vulnerable!

Regardless of whether those feelings and expressions are legitimate or real, he could feel my resistance and my fight to keep him from entering my heart. But he has been exceptionally nice and witty about the whole thing.

As two gay friends, we chat about a wide range of things. About 2 weeks ago, the conversation drifted as matter-of-factly to his recent bed arrangements and enjoyable sex dates. As a young homosexual who understands the natural order of how the gay board game is being played, it shouldn't have made me feel anything because technically, that is the freedom and right of a guy who has been comfortably gay for 30 years.

But guess what, I felt a wave of heated tears came over me and felt devastated. "Wait M, what is this? Devastation? Are you jealous? Jealous that he was having fun with other guys despite saying you are special? Or are you jealous of the fact that despite how things are hanging between you two, he is older and having fun while you're young and not?"

"Man, is that a naive thought? You still have so much experience to gain in life. What if he's testing you and your feelings? Wait, does it matter? Why should it?" I was extremely nonchalant about the whole thing and kept up with pretences as if nothing is affecting me. Although, I might have purposely shown him some attitude and distance for the next couple of days. 

He definitely felt something was wrong and tried to mend the cold I initiated. But truth is, I was just being a jealous kid. After a while, I came to my senses and told myself to get over myself. I threw that attitude out the window and resumed being an adult with him again after a couple of days.

Last week, I happened to be really horny while chatting with him on my bed. He was saying all sorts of things to me and for some reason I just told him I was feeling very horny. Without warning, he sent me pictures of his erected penis with pre-cum leaking out from the slit and told me that's how I make him feel. Those were shots, fresh from his work place.

As much as I don't want to get off on an older man's tool, I couldn't help myself and quietly jerked-off looking at the pictures that were on my screen. It didn't feel gross because all I wanted to feel was the strong urge to come while looking at a real man's penis. I came and fell back to earth. After in which my conscious kicked in and I felt my face turn red at the thought of what just happened.

He then told me from the other end that he just masturbated till he came and is now washing up. Then comes the inevitable question, he asked if I did the same and jerked off to him. I gave him my best poker line and said no, but I hope and am glad that he enjoyed himself. He said he did. I told him I needed to sleep and finally bade each other goodnight. I woke up the next day, thinking about what I did.