It seems, as I grow older I get more nervous about age difference. Never having been attracted to middle-aged men when I was young I find it hard to believe that there are a lot of young twinks out there looking for guys more than twice their age. They seem to know exactly what they're looking for too and are not coy about communicating it either. Not like I used to be. What's more, they're not at all backward in coming forward when it comes to stripping down to their bare essentials. It never ceases to surprise me. It's a bit like being served a three course meal when you least expect it and I tell you man I was more than happy to be given Conrad on a Pilates plate.

Do I hear you say, "What the hell is Pilates?" Well, join the club. I didn't know what it was either until a friend of mine, who gives movement and Pilates lessons in a youth theatre, invited me along to take some photos during a summer show. I looked the term up on the net and learned that it's a technique which builds up a 'central power house' in the large group of muscles encompassing the abdomen, lower back, hips, and buttocks and entails the use of springs in 'progressive resistance', meaning the resistance increases as the spring is stretched. Sounded really fascinating to me and something worth looking into if I could find the right trainer.

Anyway I turned up camera in hand at the show and took some great shots. My friend Lois was pretty pleased with them, particularly the ones I'd taken of this guy called Conrad. He was pretty pleased too. Myself I was a little embarrassed by the fact that my camera lens seemed to have given away my more than photographic interest in him. He was extremely good-looking, very photogenic and incredibly athletic and flexible. I couldn't wait to put the 'progressive resistance' technique to the test. Of course I didn't quite know how to go about it until he approached me and asked if I could take some more photos of him. I said sure if he could teach me something about Pilates.

So we met in my studio and he ran me through the basics and I took to it like a duck takes to water. Especially as there was a lot of hands-on stuff as he raised my legs to the ceiling and taught me how to build up body rhythms naturally without thinking too hard. Always a problem for me. In fact my middle name should be Hamlet. I've missed a lot of opportunities through thinking too much. You know, to pounce or not to pounce that is the question. Conrad told me that Pilates was very much a matter of postural and body movement awareness. It didn't take me long to see what he meant. By the time he'd put me through my paces I was all too aware of his body movements and how I felt when he touched me. In fact he didn't meet with any progressive resistance at all. I wondered just how much my body language was communicating and I didn't dare look into his eyes. That came later when we got to the camera shoot.

At first, I was a bit worried about stepping out of line with one of my best friend's students but Conrad put my mind, and eventually my dick, to rest early on in the shoot and I concentrated on bringing out his attributes. That's not all I brought out either. He got me hot right from the start as he turned up for the shoot in a tight t-shirt and an even tighter pair of white pants. If my mother had seen him she would have said they were so tight you could see what his religion was. She has some great expressions tucked up her verbal sleeve. And obviously Conrad had something equally great tucked up in those pants of his. Rather unnecessarily I asked him what kind of photos he wanted. "Whatever turns you on," he said. That sort of put things in focus straight away although I had a few problems keeping my hands steady. Especially when he started taking off his top and I got a look at his pits and the treasure trail to his pubes. Pits and pubes are two of my weak spots and my knees are the first to go when I see them. I decided it would be wise to put the camera onto a tripod although I'd already developed a third leg myself. The fact didn't escape him and he lay back with a satisfied smile ready to seduce me and my lens even further.

He slipped one hand down the front of his pants and I didn't need to be a clairvoyant to know that the tips of his fingers were touching the tip of his dick.

"Wanna give me a preview?" he asked. "Just to see if I'm posing right."

"I don't think you need any pointers," I said. "You're a natural."

"Wanna see me au naturel?" he asked. I'd fallen right into that one.

"Whatever turns you on." I replied.

"I think we're both turned on already. I'm having a great time. What about you?"

And with that he slid out of his pants like a snake shedding its skin, revealing a rock-hard dick begging to be stroked and a red hot ass begging to be stoked. I was reminded of the girl who found out that her husband was gay on their wedding night. Just like her, I was pretty confused and didn't know which way to turn. Except further 'on'. The choice between Conrad's dribbling dick and his pouting butt was a hard one to make. He was spread out, legs wide apart, next to my winter oven. Three months of the year, I heated the place up with a clay Chiminea. You know the kind you find in sauna baths. My face felt as inflamed as the orange coals inside. They were replicas of the real thing but looked surprisingly lifelike. Conrad needed no replica. He was larger than life and was giving out a hell of a lot of heat. I jumped head first into his furnace. This time I was reminded of a sizzler steak when it hits the griddle. To intensify the intensity of the whole thing - and I mean whole thing - he let a hiss out of pleasure as I rimmed him.

I sucked on his dick, long and strong, until it wept into my mouth. He showed his appreciation by gyrating his hips and letting out soft moans as he pushed me down on him. Then, just to keep him on a slow boil, or a long simmer, I let my hand take over from my mouth and fist fucked him as I nibbled his nips with my lips and licked the fuck out of his armpits. Then I returned to my original port of call to sip the nectar seeping from his leaking stem. He revved up on the moans as he filled my mouth with salty pre-cum. I knew we were on the Milky Way to sexual fulfilment so moved on down and drove him nuts sucking his nuts, then teased and titillated and tormented that pouting asshole of his with the tip of my tongue until he started pulling my hair out by the roots and his moans turned to groans and then into gruff growls and horny little yaps. I got the rest of my tongue inside his ass. He bucked like an unbroken stallion but I persevered. I don't think anybody had ever electrified his sphincter quite like my tongue did. It nearly sent him into short circuit. Something told me that my frisky little puppy was ready for his big meaty bone. I reached out for the lube tube.

It felt so good in there, like mushy marshmallow, and between yells and hoots and hollers Conrad was soon gulping and gasping and begging for more. I thought I was being more than generous and didn't quite know what more to give him but then instinct stepped in. I went into automatic Pilates pilot and put to good use some of the lessons I'd picked up about springs and things. I held on to his legs and used them as levers. I can't begin to describe the buzz I got scraping the sides of his love passage and splintering his sphincter. Or the way his ass buckled and bulged under the onslaught. Or the grateful grunts that emanated from him. The place looked like a cotton field by the time the pair of us had finished. There was cum everywhere. We could have whitewashed the room with it.

"You sure learnt a lot of Pilates in a short time," he said.

"I had a good teacher," I replied.

We lay side by side for what seemed like hours. Then we had a shower and I fixed us something to eat and showed him the photos. They were really something so that made us both hot again. We were still half naked so it didn't take us long to go into action although we made more of a game of it this time. I straddled him and offered him my dick for dessert. At first he shut his mouth like a naughty child and pretended he didn't want it. "Open your mouth." I ordered. He didn't obey. I slapped his face with it. Still he didn't. I slapped him with it again. On the right cheek, then on the left. Still the obstinate little bastard wouldn't open up. In fact he got me so mad and excited that I came all over him. Eyes, mouth and throat. "That was a mean thing to do," he said. "Now I'm left with no dessert and all the cream," and he proceeded to lap up what was still on offer.

We fell asleep, spoon fashion, after that and I savoured the sexy silkiness of his body next to mine. However, I woke up in the middle of the night feeling there was a soup-ladle, not a spoon, cleaving to my butt. All seemed calm on the Conrad front but I should have known better than to let myself be lulled temporarily before the impending sexual storm that had been building up behind me ready to burst the banks of my ass.

"Ready for some more Pilates treatment?" he asked me.

Before I could reply, I felt his 'central power house' giving me everything it had got and teaching me exactly what progressive resistance and spring stretching really entailed. My butt expanded like the Grand Canyon as he entered me and my lungs with it. He bit my shoulders and slammed himself into me with a force that had me literally climbing the bedroom wall. I screamed with pleasure and pain as he plowed into my newly stretched ass and had me grabbing onto the bedhead for support. If I'd been an airliner I think I would have taken off. He jerked me off into the palm of his hand while he was fucking me and made me suck my own love juice off his fingers. It was gross and it was great. In fact I think it's the biggest turn on I've ever had except I had nothing left to turn on.

So that was the beginning, but far from the end, of my basic training in Pilates. As I said earlier, I took to it like a duck to water although taking the cow to market might have been a more accurate description. As you can imagine there was lot more cream than water involved and I developed the tonsils of a full-grown bull. I used to think I was a tenor but when Conrad fucked me I produced a sound that came deep down from the bowels and rose to a base baritone bellow. And I've changed from Hamlet into Henry V. You know 'once more into the breach' and all that. You should try Pilates for yourself some time. Build up your own central power house of progressive resistance, stretch a few springs. Believe me it will give you a whole new ass-pect on life.