I took a plane from London to get to Paris where I would be for nine days in the Fall. What could be better than that? I chose to be in an Airbnb that was a shared accommodation. I thought that by staying with other people, I would get to meet them and learn about their travels. My space in Paris was on the eighth floor of a large apartment building. I was greeted by the mother of my host when she buzzed me into the secure building. She was a short heavy set woman who didn’t speak much English and my French was mostly non-existent.
She showed me the shared bathroom which was small but clean and my room which was large and had a comfortable bed. A tall window looked out onto the back courtyard and I could hear French voices talking across the open space. There were two other Airbnb rooms and the mother lived in an apartment behind a locked door. I was content and settled in with ease.
One night a group of four young Asian girls arrived at midnight and proceeded to loudly clean in the shared contiguous bathroom until they calmed down about 2 AM. In neither London nor Paris, did I meet anyone based upon my shared housing situation. My experiment had been a failure. What I learned was that a shared space meant that it would be harder to bring someone back to my place. That left out meeting any of the married men who were often the ones hunting for sex.
My Airbnb was in a non-tourist neighborhood that had a lot of Middle Eastern people, particularly from Turkey, which meant many kebab restaurants. There were also numerous fine patisseries so I was happy with my location. The area wasn’t far from Montmartre where I had stayed the last time that I was in Paris, but I had never walked this section before. Walking without direction or purpose was how I learned my new neighborhood. Walking for hours also meant that I could have a pastry and not worry about gaining weight. I had begun to call my travel adventure an anti-Alzheimer’s weight loss program. The daily routine improved my mind and body simultaneously.
After a couple days of exploring, I needed a sexual adventure. There was an intriguing posting on one of the websites I used for sexually connecting with men. He was a man in Paris but from Arizona, a tall Caucasian man who was just a few years younger than me. He was looking for someone to service his very appealing cock. There was an attractive photo of his member but there weren’t any body pictures. His stats didn’t suggest a stout man but he had listed himself as a bear. I hadn’t been with anyone in weeks and a bear with a nice cock would be a delight in my eager mouth.
I wrote to him and offered my services. Later that day I learned that he was interested and could host. We made a plan for me to visit his place where he was staying alone. It turned out that Erik was walking distance from my place, about forty five minutes. For some, that meant mass transit but I always enjoyed walking and that was what I did. Without phone service or GPS, I had to look up his location on the Internet using my laptop. It was easy to determine a straightforward way to his place. I went to sleep that night looking forward to meeting him the next afternoon.
I arrived on time and took a seat on a low brick wall opposite his older apartment building. Erik was supposed to meet me outside so that I could get beyond the complex old European building locks. He came out of the building about ten minutes later and I saw that he was quite good looking. We shook hands by the building door and he invited me to enter. I accepted the offer from this handsome man and he used a large key to unlock the big brass lock on the heavy wooden door. There was a dark foyer with a small elevator that took us to his Airbnb place on the eighth floor. The elevator was barely large enough for the two of us and had an old metal scissors like gate. He used another large key to open the door to the apartment. Erik declared that he was still learning how many turns of the key it took for the lock to give way.
The apartment had high ceilings and many large book cases that were filled with art and architecture books. Lots of light coming from four good sized windows seemed to enlarge the small space. Erik offered me bottled water which I accepted and he directed me to take a seat on a comfortable sofa. He took a seat in a nearby comfortable looking arm chair. I learned that he wanted to meet me to see how I was doing on my journey with no address.
A couple of years earlier he had sold his house in Arizona to travel unencumbered. Erik had done an extreme version of getting rid of possessions. I sold my house and much furniture but kept a ten by ten storage unit. He hadn’t stored anything. All was sold or given away. For fifteen months he just traveled without a plan, making it up while going along. Much of his time had been spent in South America including the challenging countries of Venezuela and Columbia. I was impressed because I didn’t think I had the courage to do those more dangerous locations. I was content to begin in the easier and friendlier countries of Europe that I had visited previously.
Erik told me a story of how he was robbed at night in Merida, Venezuela and had to walk his way back to the apartment where he was staying by himself. There was no one to call for assistance and he had no money or credit cards since all had been taken. The next day was spent trying to put his economic capability back together with the help of a kind bank manager. That taught him to always leave one or two cards, including debit, with his luggage along with some local currency so that it would reduce the impact of the loss, but more importantly make access to cash available. I was grateful for learning this lesson early on in my journey.
After fifteen months, Erik determined that the travel was taking a toll on his body and he returned to the Phoenix area where he rented a place by the month. Now it was six months later and the desire to travel had bitten him again. He was just starting a seven week travel adventure in Europe using the same process as the first time with a plan that only went out seven to ten days. That way he could go where he felt like and didn’t have to change plans. Meeting Erik seemed a confirmation of my chosen path.
Unlike my journey which was about people and culture, Erik had a great interest in old buildings, castles and ancient ruins. When he was looking for a new place, it had to have some of those elements. His worst days were rainy ones, because he always wanted to be out exploring those locations and walking in the rain was hateful. My rule was that a place had to have either good food or great art for me to be interested. If both features existed, then I was going there for certain.
We were becoming comfortable with each other and I asked if he had been married. Erik had gotten divorced ten years earlier during his middle fifties which was a common time for marriages to break up as had mine. The shared work of raising children was done and different interests led to them distancing. He hadn’t informed anyone of his bisexuality and continued to keep that part of his life well in the closet. That accounted for the limited pictures of him on the website.
I sensed that this sexually closeted situation meant that he would be unlikely to be the first one to talk about sex, so I began, “Would you like to have on fewer clothes?” He readily agreed and was grateful that I had initiated the action. He stood and dropped his pants and shorts but kept the shirt on and buttoned. I didn’t remove anything but got on my knees in front of this tall handsome man with his flaccid cock near my face. Initially, I nuzzled my head with soft hair on the shaft and then lifted my head up so that I could gently lick his balls. He stayed standing while his cock began to fill and thicken as it rested on my face. I licked up the underside until I came to the mushroom head that was now aching to be in a warm dark place.
I opened my mouth wide and took the head in but not the shaft. I wanted to massage the mushroom tip with my tongue first. He began to moan and rub my soft hair. I pushed my head further forward to take in a couple more inches and applied pressure with my lips as I drew back to the tip. Each time I pumped down on his dick I went a little further until all seven inches of his thick meat were filling my throat each time. I loved the feeling of the hefty mushroom head as it massaged the back of my throat. Too bad that I hadn’t brought any poppers so that I could totally relax and take him even deeper.
Erik sat back down on the arm chair where he had started and I took off my light sweater to expose the smooth chest. He didn’t undo the buttons on his shirt, but I sensually did that while I began to suck on his cock again. I knew that when my mouth was on his cock, he would let me do anything I wanted. I encountered a hairy chest with erect nipples that told me there was some sensitivity there. I used one hand to massage his balls while the other twisted one of those sensitive nipples. His dick was getting harder while I continued to pump my head up and down rhythmically. My saliva was fully coving the shaft and sliding down to his smooth testicles.
Erik leaned forward so that his long arms could reach my exposed nipples, massaging them and then pulling on them as our arousal increased. My nipples loved being played with, especially while a beautiful cock was in my mouth. I began to pump with more vigor, up and down all the way to the base. Erik pulled my nipples really hard as he shot a huge load of cum into my mouth which I had to swallow right away because I knew that there was a follow up gushing of equal amount to totally fill me. This one I savored as he let go of my nipples and leaned back in the chair with an enormous exhale that suggested he hadn’t had a good blow job in some time. Was that one of the shortcomings of travel?
I looked up at him with his much more relaxed face as he said softly to the ceiling, “Thank you. That was great.” I felt my own sense of worth and satisfaction at the sound of those words. I rubbed the hairy chest with my hands and felt the Reiki energy begin to flow from me to him. Erik noted that my hands were getting warmer and asked how that happened. I stayed kneeling in front of him with my hands flat on his torso while I explained that my Reiki training had taught my hands how to transfer healing energy and that when I placed them on someone it just transferred without me really doing anything other than keeping the hands in place. “That’s amazing,” he admitted with a new sense of energy astonishment.
When I felt that he was now fully relaxed, I returned to my seat on the sofa but didn’t put my sweater back on, remaining bare chested. I asked him if he had been having much contact with men in Europe and he stated that it was usually limited because he only stayed in one place for three or four days at a time. We were able to connect because he was in Paris for seven days. My next planned journey was to take the train to Toulon in the south on the Mediterranean Sea. He was heading to Madrid next.
Erik was a very handsome man with a good body but he called himself a bear because of the chest hair and the lack of any muscle definition on his stomach or chest. He had a hairy dad bod. I suggested that he could define himself however he chose and it was up to others to agree or disagree but not set the terms of definition. Erik liked that concept and was pleased with the compliments that I gave him. I was quite attracted to him, but I sensed that for him I was just a diversion. Given that he was a morning person and I was not, we would probably not even have been good travel partners. We chatted about keeping in touch and checking to see if our paths would cross again in Europe. The communication was weekly for the first month but then the time between our emails became longer and longer. We still connect now and then to check in on the other’s whereabouts, but there’s no emotional connection. I was happy to have met Erik and enjoy his tasty cock but I was disappointed that he was not available for more than what we did.
I stood up to put my sweater back on and he offered to assist me in exiting the complex locks of the building. I was grateful for that kindness since I saw how he had struggled with the apartment lock. We said our goodbyes in the foyer of the building with a handshake that I turned into a hug. As I stepped out of the doorway, I heard the lock click solidly shut behind me.