Over thirty years ago, I went to a new schoolfriend's house after classes. But he wasn't home, even though we had arranged to play video games. His mother was working as was his older brother, but his dad was home early. The father, Gio, was a laborer. Born in Europe, he spoke with a sexy accent. He was a handsome man in his fifties, with bulging pecs, biceps and broad shoulders. Gio caught me eyeing him and winked conspiratorially. Since this was an unseasonably hot September day, he was shirtless as well as barefoot. The sight of him overwhelmed me, and I couldn't keep my eyes off of him. He grinned and patted his bare ample belly, saying he loved his wife's cooking, but she was lacking in other ways. He walked toward me as he began fiddling with his crotch. Gio took my hand and squeezed it around his hardening dick. Then he pushed me to my knees and said, "Lungo tempo non ho fatto cosi. Non dire niente a nessuno¹," he growled, as he rammed his uncircumcised cock into my mouth. This was the beginning of several years of me providing the relief his wife would not give him.
¹"I haven't done this in a long time. Don't say anything to anybody."