Free Love on Site by Neil Plakcy Page A

slipped off the loafer, and peeled down the thin black sock. I repeated the process with the other leg.
    Roberto stepped out of his slacks and folded them on my desk. We faced each other, and his dick pushed against his nylon briefs, furled up like a snake waiting to strike. I was still hard, tenting my briefs. I skinned them down and stepped out of them, and Roberto did the same.
    He led me to my bed, then pushed me down on it. In a moment he was on top of me, all his smooth flesh pressing against me, skin to skin. Our dicks rubbed together as he slid his body up and down over mine, keeping our lips pressed together. It was an amazing moment, one I had been waiting for, but it wasn’t enough. I kept comparing his chest to what I’d seen of Walter’s. Walter’s was so much broader and more muscular, and Roberto’s seemed that of an old man.
    I felt my dick soften and didn’t know why. Roberto must have sensed it too, thinking what he was doing didn’t please me. He sat back on his haunches, and his skinny, stiff dick faced me, curved like a banana. I leaned down and took him in my mouth. He tasted clean and fresh, like rainwater with a touch of salt. He rubbed his fingers through my hair and said, “You are so beautiful, Manuelito.”
    I responded the best way I knew how, by sucking him until I felt his body start to stiffen, then pulled back. My dick had hardened again, so I squirmed around so that my dick was at his mouth. He began to suck me, and I could tell right away that mine wasn’t the first cock he’d chowed down on. He really knew his stuff—licking me, tonguing my slit, nibbling the mushroom head.
    Even so, I couldn’t help thinking of Walter. Was this what he wanted too? Had I read that look in his eyes correctly? I closed my eyes and pretended that those were his lips around my dick. Between that image and Roberto’s technique, I was in ecstasy. This was why I liked older men, I thought. I tried to imitate everything Roberto did, but before I could practice too much, he had me on the brink of orgasm, and I had to focus on things like math problems and women’s vaginas to bring myself down.
    It didn’t work. I shot off into Roberto’s mouth, but he swallowed everything I had to give and kept licking me. I squirmed in ecstatic pain, unable to concentrate on getting him off.
    Finally he let my dick go. I tried to start up on him again, but he had gone soft, and he pulled me away, up toward him. “But you didn’t…” I said.
    “You gave me much pleasure, mi amorcito. Do not worry if I do not demonstrate my appreciation so openly.”
    Well, if that was okay with him, I thought. I snuggled up to him, our heads on the pillow facing each other, and dozed off. When I woke up, it was two o’clock in the morning and Roberto was gone. He had left his calling card on my dresser, though— Roberto Vicente Medina Arroyo in a curling script. According to the Spanish style, Medina was his father’s last name, and Arroyo his mother’s. He had scrawled xx RVMA on the back. No address, no phone number or business affiliation.
    Not that I had expected one. Roberto had been cagey about telling me much about his personal life—I knew his career but not his employer; his cell phone but not his home number; and his e-mail address was through a generic provider.
    It didn’t matter to me. He was old-school, after all, the kind of man who didn’t flaunt his sexual orientation. Probably closeted at work and with his family as well. I wasn’t going to marry him, just have some fun.
    I rolled over and went back to sleep with the taste of his kisses and the wine we drank at dinner still on my lips. But it was Walter Loredo’s face that remained in my memory.

Site Specifics
    I texted Roberto Sunday afternoon before I left for my parents’ house, thanking him for dinner and dessert. He responded with the word encantado —charmed—and his initials once more. I couldn’t figure him out. Was it because he was older