My biggest challenge that week was going to be keeping my pecker in my pants and keeping my lust for men in check, that is, if I wanted to stay married.
I had already committed a marital sin that would be a deal breaker for most marriages. My wife found me fucking my ass with her dildo. And it wasn’t a little purse number. It was a huge, pink, exquisitely detailed cast of a famous porn star’s cock. I had it vibrating and gyrating at full power as I stroked it back and forth in my dilated asshole. I came, hands free, from prostate stimulation and the euphoria of imagining my ass being taken by a beautiful hunk of a man.
She didn’t catch me in the dark of our basement or my man-cave, it was in our shared bed, with her right in front of me. We were supposed to be engaged in a passionate lovemaking session, first in over a year, since our sexual romance had fallen off a cliff. The only problem was I wasn’t feeling turned on by my beautiful wife, so I imagined her with a big, thick cock, and balls; a beautiful transsexual who was going to let me suck her cock if I fucked her ass first. That got me going and I picked up her dildo from the bed and started caressing my ass crack with it which led to me plunging it into my ass until I shot my cum load onto her belly.
Now that would be very upsetting to any wife who believed that her husband was unquestionably straight. But it was an especially egregious act because she felt totally caught off guard and betrayed. I had never exhibited any sexual interest in men before that, in front of her that is. I am very masculine, and in a traditionally masculine occupation, firefighter. I’ve been told many times that I have a beautiful body. My wife, Delphina, is a very confident, powerful executive and a beautiful woman, with a gorgeous, sexy body. She had no reason to doubt herself before that incident with the dildo. My self inflicted anal assault certainly destroyed the pretense that we were the ideal couple.
I don’t know what made me think I could get away with that, especially since I finished the scene by holding the faux cock up to my mouth as I pumped the fake cum into my throat and all over my face and chest, right in front of her, while I begged my imaginary male seducer to fuck my ass deep and fill me with his cum. I think that was a blow to her confidence and that was the thing she was most protective of. She had achieved a great deal in life based on her looks and her ability to convince others through her authoritative style.
I couldn’t have been more busted, but at the time, I wasn’t thinking about the consequences, just the pure, unadulterated pleasure. And boy was it pleasurable; probably the best orgasm I ever had up until then. Since then, we have had many heated conversations about what was going on with me. She determined, without any professional assistance, or my input, that what happened was a fluke, ass-play gone terribly wrong, but nothing to worry about. We still had a perfectly normal marriage as far as she, and the public, were concerned. I think she was more worried about her perceived role as an enticing Aphrodite, able to turn any man’s head, and stiffen any man’s cock. For reasons of self presrvation she was therefore willing to look the other way.
I, on the other hand, was pretty sure I was acting on my true, previously subverted sexuality. I had told myself I wasn’t gay, or just that I was undoubtedly straight, for many years. I wouldn’t entertain any other diagnosis out of a fear of being shunned, ridiculed, and ostracized, at work, with family, and with friends. But I had clues in my past that made me think I probably wasn’t being true to myself. The biggest clue that I was interested in gay sex was my intense interest in gay porn. I couldn’t get enough of it and I jerked off to guys fucking and sucking each other any time I could sneak and watch it on my phone. I had flirted with gay men occassionally and had been hit on by guys for years, but I never thought of myself as someone who would follow through with those feelings. For many years I had only gone as far as having phone sex with guys and hanging out in gay chat rooms, toward the actual fulfillment of my desires, but I had fantasized about it thousands of times.
Was my sexual sexual interest in men just a kink, like my wife wanted to believe, or was it a foundational quality of my character and was now becoming too powerful to resist? I knew I wanted to keep my suspicions about my sexuality to myself; I didn’t need for my life to get any more complicated right now. That’s why I was so looking forward to getting out of the house and out of town for a week to attend a firefighter convention in Indianapolis. I needed the time alone to clear my head.
I kissed my wife goodbye and headed to the airport. She basically ignored what happened a week ago and instead resorted to her “normal” marriage mode. “Don’t give in to all those hot firefighter-groupie women when they come on Çankaya Escort to you,” she said as I headed out.
“Don’t worry, those ladies don’t stand a chance with me,” I promised.
When I arrived at my hotel, I checked in and headed toward the elevator banks. I had to pass through the lobby which was packed with mostly male firefighters, in town for the convention, loudly drinking and laughing as they overflowed from the adjacent bar. Guys were wearing their fire-related T-shirts and ball caps, sporting every imaginable symbol and slogan proudly declaring their masculine machismo and general badass-ness. Most importantly, they broadcast their receptiveness to the ladies, the women who were there to attract firefighters, the groupies my wife spoke of.
Very few of the women there were firefighters. There was a large contingent of young women-seeking-male-firefighter types, with two basic looks: long sun-highlighted hair, tight, micro-mini slip-dress and heels; and hair teased up, spandex stretch-pants pulled up the crack of their cute ass, and a tank top or some other bra-less top. Each woman was surrounded by about six guys all trying their best to be the one rewarded with the young ladies’ attention. You could smell the testosterone from the curb. I pushed through the pulsing crowd.
“Hey Darren, glad you could make it,” came a voice from behind me. It was my friend Joe. He strolled up beside me. Joe was from a fire department other than mine but we were fast friends through mutual training and group meetings. We hung out together after meetings and training sessions, shared workout tips, and generally really enjoyed each other’s company. He was someone that I possibly considered talking to about what I was going through with Delphina because I suspected he might be gay. He had model-like good looks, a beautiful, muscular body, was super charming, and I had never seen him date or be in a relationship with anyone. If anyone was a closeted gay guy, he was, or so I thought. But I noticed over Joe’s shoulder in the hotel lobby, two smiling, sexy young women waiting, not very patiently, for us to finish talking so he could get back to them. “Let’s grab a drink after you get settled in,” Joe said.
“Hey man, good to see you. Yeah, let’s meet for a drink or dinner or something later. I’m going to throw my stuff in my room and go to the gym for a workout right now.” I had no interest in joining the mass butt-sniffing event going on in the bar right then.
“Sounds good. I’ll get the ladies warmed up for you to come in for the kill,” he laughed as he lifted his drink glass in a symbolic toast and turned back toward the young ladies who were dying to get back to flirting with him. I was surprised to see Joe in that milieus, especially with the two little hotties hanging on his beautiful arms. Not surprised that sexy young ladies would be attracted to him, surprised that he would be attracted to them. I guessed my “gay-dar” needed calibration. And I decided I wouldn’t be confiding in him about my sexual feelings.
I slid the key card through the lock and opened my hotel room door. I had sprung for an upgraded room on a higher floor. As I walked into the large suite, I was awed by the expansive view of the city and beyond through the floor-to-ceiling glass wall opposite the giant bed. The bathroom was huge, with a giant two-person bathtub and a freestanding glass walled shower in the middle of the bathroom. “Nice!” I thought. This will be perfect for isolating myself at night and getting my thoughts together.
I put some workout clothes on and headed down to the gym in the basement of the hotel. Luckily, the gym was well equipped with enough weights and machines to accommodate a good power workout. A few guys were in there getting in a pre-nightlife pump, but they cleared out pretty quickly.
I used to be a fitness trainer so I am very much at home in any gym. I was not some hulked-out bodybuilder type, but I cherished my muscular physique, and so apparently did a lot if men. I don’t know if any women cared about the extra muscles. I did squats until my thighs and glutes were on fire and really pumped up. I could feel my ass cheeks rise and fall with each step I took. I moved over to the bench press and was going up in weight with each set. As I struggled through my last set, the bar started to come back down on my chest. Suddenly a pair of big strong hands grabbed the bar from above me, pulled it up and helped me to safely rack it.
I looked up from the bench where I was laying and all I could see was a pair of thick, muscular thighs coming out of a pair of short shorts. The wearer was not wearing underwear and I could see up the legs of the shorts a beefy pair of shaved testicles and a very large, thick cock with an even bigger head, hanging into one of the pant legs. If the shorts were any shorter, the guy’s pink dick head would have been hanging Keçiören Escort out of the shorts.
“Hey, thanks for the assist,” I said as I sat up and spun around on the bench. It was Joe who helped me. “What’s up, man? I thought you were getting the ladies moistened up for me in the bar.” Joe and I frequently joked, jock style, talking about females as conquests, how big our dicks were, and belittling each other with homophobic slurs. We always tried to outdo each other in brashness. It was our bonding ritual.
“Well knowing that you were probably going to hurt yourself in this real man’s gym, I thought I better come save my buddy. Besides, those bitches just wanted me as eye candy to show off for their girlfriends, and wanted me take them drinking all night. It didn’t seem worth it.”
“Ha! I could have told you that from taking one look at them. But then, you’re not that used to talking to women. If you had put the time in you probably could have gotten laid though.”
“Right. And you, the consummate lady’s man is down here by your gay ass self working out. I’m surprised you’re not out looking for some guy to blow right now.”
I laughed. “Your the one who left the hot pussy on the grill upstairs. I’m sure you came down here just so you could sit on my lap.”
“You should be giving ME a lap dance right now. If I had your body I’d be nailing some of those Bettys upstairs. Look at your legs and ass. My god, they’re like a sculpture! And I could wash my dirty laundry on those washboard abs! Besides, those bitches can’t suck cock as well as you can, I bet. Only a guy really knows how to suck another guy’s cock like it should be sucked. Am I right?”
I laughed at the crudeness of his joke. He had gone over the top and I loved it. “You’re fucking crazy, man! Yeah, well hey, speaking of needing underwear, I noticed while you were spotting me that the one pair of underwear you brought must be at the cleaners.”
“Leave it to a queer like you to be trying to look at my cock!” he laughed. But now I could clearly see the outline of the tip of his cock head close to the opening of the leg of his shorts. It was angular and defined, and the rest of his cock made it look like he was hiding a large corn cob in his shorts. Why was he being so cavalier about exposing his cock? Surely he realized how erotic some might find his shorts. What if other guys, or women were in here right now, would he care? Was this show just for me and was he just trying to shock me? I loved his who-fucking-cares-as-long-as-I-like-it attitude. I always found it appealing, as long as I’d known him. I also found the thinly veiled view of his cock very exciting.
We traded spots so he could get some reps in on the bench. While he was using a weight that didn’t need spotting, I went into the locker area and removed my underwear. If he was going to fuck with me, I was going to fuck with him. It felt good to be swinging free. My shorts had longer legs than Joe’s but the fabric was clingy enough to clearly highlight my big cock and wide brimmed helmet head. It was exciting to be much more exposed and my cock swelled slightly. At least it expand to the full 8-1/2 inches, but not so much that it created a tent on the front of my shorts.
When I laid on the bench press my cock flopped over to one side. I noticed Joe’s eyes looking at my crotch and I felt exposed. What if he was offended? It was very exciting to take this type of a risk. As I looked up the leg of his shorts, I studied his cock. The head had a big hole and a sharp split at the bottom of the head. His cock looked to have a lot of girth and length and was compressed into the tight crotch of his shorts, like a collapsed Slinky. His balls were the size and texture of golf balls. Everything was completed shaved.
As I sat up after my set, I turned to him, “Where’d you get those shorts, from your little sister? They’re about three sizes too small.”
“These are standard issue for the Navy Seals. Is that manly enough for you?”
“Yeah, I get it. They do make your thighs look huge. I can see those new workouts are paying off. And your chest and arms are maxed out, and shredded. Some girl would love to run her hands all over that chest, I bet.”
“C’mon, quit talking and let’s work out. I’ll buy the first round tonight.” With that, Joe slid more weights on the bar. We continued working out and trading jabs, for about an hour. We were both as pumped as we were going to get and we were getting tired, but we were having such a good time interacting that neither one of us wanted to stop. Finally, Joe racked the weights he was holding and said, “I’m done. Let’s go get that drink I promised you.”
I agreed and we headed up to the bar. We sat at the bar in our sweaty clothes. The bartender, a handsome blonde surfer looking dude, brought us the beers we ordered. As he walked away, Joe’s eyes followed the bartender’s Etimesgut Escort tight bubble butt and stayed locked on it until he looked back in our direction. Joe then looked at me, looking at him, looking at the bartender’s nice ass. With a look of resignation, like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Joe said, “Look, Darren, I’ve been meaning to tell you for a long time, because you’re a friend who I believe I can trust, I’m gay.”
I did my best to seem surprised, “Really? That’s cool. Your sectet is safe with me. But then what’s with all the macho stuff and the flirting with the ladies, just part of the facade?” I was thrilled that he trusted me enough to tell me. It was also a relief to know my suspicion about him was confirmed. Maybe I had a better gay-dar sense than I thought. But most importantly, it meant that I could talk to him about what I had done in front of my wife and why I was not feeling at all guilty about it.
“Yeah, man, I’m actually pretty refined compared to most of these meatheads. You know how it would look in our industry, to be gay, to say you like cock and not pussy. I’ve hid my sexuality for my entire career. I was almost outed at a call a year ago. Right after we finished extinguishing a structure fire at an apartment, a gorgeous gay guy came up to me when I was walking back to the truck. He starts flirting like crazy with me and I couldn’t resist. I wanted him really badly so I passed him my phone number. Some of the guys on the truck saw that and got suspicious. I told them the guy just wanted me to train him in the gym. I ended up dating him for six months. Hell, I’d rather be drinking champagne right now than this beer.”
“What about you?” he asked taking a sip of the beer he said he didn’t want. I fought back my urge to reveal myself to him right away. Did he suspect something? Was this one of his gags?
“Oh, I like champagne too, and beer,” I said trying to play it off and not answer the question.
“No, how did a nerd motherfucker like you meet your gorgeous wife? Did you help her across the street when you saw her white cane?”
There was that macho bullshit again. Was he just trying to lure me into a trap? “Ha, ha, we met at a concert. She was on another date and so was I. She slipped me her number.”
“Damn, women like that are volatile, like nitroglycerin. You’ve got to keep them cool to keep from getting blown up. Not that that’s the case with you and Delphina. You guys are perfect together.”
This was my opening to tell him that there was more to me than meets the eye, but I wasn’t convinced I could trust him with my secret yet. “Yeah, we’re good. I’m tapping that ass all the time.”
“When people make a statement like that, it makes me think they’re doing the opposite. Why aren’t you tapping that ass all the time? Delphina is gorgeous, and damn sexy. Any straight guy would be making love to her twice a day.”
He was like an attorney the way he cornered me with my own words. Do I lie and risk losing his trust, or do I tell the truth and possibly risk his friendship? I just stared into his ice-blue eyes without saying anything. He really had no business being anything other than a model. He was just such a pleasure to look at. His eyes were in contrast to his naturally olive complexion. He was Norwegian, with sandy blonde hair, beautifully sculpted lips framed by a Freddie Mercury mustache, and blindingly white teeth. I stared at his mouth now and pictured myself kissing him.
Joe broke my trance, “Darren, are you avoiding my question or did you just have a stroke? Did what I just told you about me make you not want to hang with me?”
“Sorry, no! No, I’m totally into hanging out with you. I think it’s great that you’re gay and you’re happy. It’s just too bad that gay guys can’t be out in our profession. Listen, I have something I want to talk to you about tonight, say over dinner and after more booze?”
“Sounds perfect. I hope that what you want to talk about is more interesting than firefighting or working out.”
“Yeah, well I guess it depends on your perspective. Why don’t I meet you down in the lobby in 45 minutes? That will give me enough time to shower and put in an obligatory call to the wife.”
Joe was signing the tab for the drinks and didn’t look up as he said, “I asked the front desk to have housekeeping make up my room. I can get in, but I won’t be able to shower there for a half hour, according to the desk.”
“Well grab your stuff from your room and you can shower in my room. It’s room 2504, it’s got an incredible view and an amazing bathroom with a giant tub and a big-ass glass shower. That will save you half an hour of waiting for housekeeping to finish.” As soon as I finished making the offer I started to mull the implications. Was it weird to ask a guy to shower in my room after he told me he’s gay? Do straight guys make offers like this?
Joe finished his transaction with the bartender, passed him a twenty and said something else that I couldn’t hear. We headed over to the elevators and I began to feel flushed. Why was I feeling this way around Joe? It’s like I had a schoolgirl crush on him, and I just wanted to be in his presence. If I could feel romantically about a man, Joe would be a guy I could fall for. Wait, what was I saying?