Let me state for the record that I never, ever was "into" phone sex. I did it a few times when the situation was right, but for the most part I found it retarded. Ultimately it was boring and when it came right down to brass tacks....you were just jacking yourself off while saying silly things.
But the telepersonals were different, they weren't phone sex, they were intended to produce an actual hookup. That's how I met Tim.
I was in my 20s, and everything was new to me. I hadn't been with many uncut guys at that point, but I had recently had an uncut guy in a bookstore, and I wanted more, so I placed an ad specifically looking for an older, uncut guy. I met a few, and sampled their meat. One guy was old enough to be my grandpa, or so it seemed. He was a nice fellow but no thrill for me. His cock tasted like pennies, and I never called him back, even though I took down his phone number in what I thought was a gesture of politeness.
Tim was different, though. I drove to his house, and he met me at a nearby gas station to avoid me getting lost. It's a good thing he did, because although he didn't live very far from there, you had to turn down a bunch of one-way streets until you wound up on his dead-end. I liked him from the minute he rolled down his window to greet me; or rather, I was pleased I'd come. He excited me, and part of it was because he seemed a little scary. He was big framed and had a beard. He made small talk with me and told me he'd been in the Navy, showed me some of his pictures from those days and told me a few stories. He was a nice guy.
When the sex happened, I was more than pleased. Tim's cock was huge and uncut, at least eight inches and with a floppy, loose foreskin. I gorged myself on it, feeding between his legs like a hungry pig. His loads fired into my mouth one after the other, he had this wild ability to instantly recharge and build up again until he was firing off another round.
But something took the wind out of my sails with Tim. He was fixated on bondage and rough sex. He pulled out some magazines from a bedside table and asked me reverently, "You ever look at any stuff like this?" I told him the truth, which was that I'd dabbled in it only peripherally; I'd tied up a few guys, and whipped a few more with my belt until they cried (willingly, of course), but I had no real desire for such a thing and I sure wasn't going to let him tie me up, and that was the end of that. I did my best to accomodate his kink, even letting him fuck my face real rough for a while; it didn't do much for me, and I didn't enjoy his cock that way. I am pretty sure I disappointed him by refusing to follow his lead wholeheartedly.
Tim didn't seem to mind, and he liked my cocksucking ability enough to let me hang around. We got together more than a few times, a more youthful version of me being entranced by his rough maleness and his otherwise humble attitude. Tim was a regular guy who liked classic rock and watched football. Under different circumstances I could have imagined myself falling in love with him, but there were a few things that kept me from trusting him enough to share feelings with him.
Now I'm no prude about pot. I can take it or leave it, and I am not gonna look down on anybody who smokes it. But it turns me off when guys need to get high to have sex, which I sensed with Tim; even when he wasn't openly smoking, I could tell he just did. It didn't make me feel all that great that someone needed to get stoned to get in bed with me. Furthermore, Tim had a big problem staying erect. I wasn't sure if the reason was the pot or not, but he very frequently lost his hard on and I was just sucking on this floppy piece of man meat for ten minutes before it would return. I dutifully threw myself into it and pretended his flaccid dick really rocked my world, but the truth is, it did not. Tim needed to address the issue, and he obviously wasn't.
Another thing that didn't click with me was Tim's very strong need to be dominant in bed. It was a role he played, and nothing more; Tim was in control of nothing, not even his own life. Pretending to submit to him was hollow and unfulfilling; it was his game, not mine. Tim never once got me off, never sucked my dick, never even gave me a hand job if I remember correctly. I am not a bottom boy, not by anybody's definition, and I found it rude, Tim's constant refusal to give a shit about how I felt. I know some guys would have totally gotten off on that, but that guy was not me.
So I held back from Tim, and I never once felt the urge to open myself up to him emotionally, not even the day he threw a glorious fuck into me, amazing me by cumming three or four times in a row. He was a sex buddy, and that's all.
One day we came to a head over it; Tim came over to my apartment to watch a football game on TV and get head from me at the same time. It was boring for me, to say the least, but there was no better way for me to spend that particular Sunday afternoon. Tim told me about a guy he was hot for, and seemed to think that it hurt my feelings. "I figured you and I were just suck buddies, you're not upset about me telling you about this other guy are you?" I wasn't, and Tim seemed deflated by it, which seemed even more ludicrous to me; he wanted to tell me about other guys and have me get jealous?
The last time few times I visited Tim, he had started to tell me about this young guy he was interested in, a straight kid who hung around Tim even though Tim was twice his age. Tim was constantly frustrated by this kid's refusal to acknowledge Tim's feelings for him; I didn't have the heart to point out that the kid was almost definitely hanging around Tim because he was a good source for pot. One night I sucked a dejected Tim off twice in a row, after which he got a phone call from his unrequited love. Tim's mood drastically changed, and he ran upstairs and got dressed to go meet this kid somewhere, undoubtedly with pot. Before he left, he pulled out his cock and jacked off on my tongue. We left together, and it was our last time together. I'd had enough of the whole situation.
I saw him a few times after that, both of which he treated me as if I was trying to collect a long-forgotten bill. Somewhere in that mess is a very nice, very hot guy. I hope these days he's gotten his act together.