As I got through security, walking through the airport, my renewed sexual awakening must have been in full display. I just felt a few feet taller as I traded smiles with passing travelers. As I boarded the flight back to San Diego, I continued to float to my seat from the last couple days of adult dreamland. My cock was so sore, my fucking jaw was so sore, my mind was even sore from sexual exhaustion, and just overall dizzy from being woken up from the years-long sexual sabbatical. And admittedly the happiness of being reinvigorated far outweighed the guilt – at least at that moment.
The 5-hour flight home gave me plenty of time to analyze this new sexual dimension that was serendipitously discovered. I concluded that my experience with Morgan was truly an anomaly in so many ways. Not that I didn’t want to see Morgan again, just that I didn’t think this eye-opening experience would slingshot into a broader hunger for the male species.
I spent my whole life never once being sexual with another man, but of course, after the multiple sensual, enjoyable acts I performed with Morgan, it’s natural to second guess your sexuality and ponder if you were being traded to the other team. But even after almost humorously surveying across the airplane at every man, and just like my whole life, there was zero attraction or interest in men. And really what this conclusive thinking did was remind me that Morgan had been this unique human, in a perfectly timed situation, to break the barrier. And I was perfectly comfortable having been Morgan-ized, which I’d officially categorize into its own special genre. Morgan was my unicorn! Even if my desire for Morgan meant I was officially gay, I was completely fine with that, just knowing Morgan had rocked me officially.
Thankfully the flight home didn’t include any turbulence, which quickly had me passed out in recovery mode for a couple hours to start the flight. Once I woke up, I ordered some coffee, opened up the laptop and began to catch up with work, which had hundreds of unattended emails. My typical narrow business focus had been distracted the last few days, but easily justified to myself . As my computer connected with WIFI, I also started receiving new iMessages. Oh boy, messages from Morgan!
Morgan: Is it horrible that I wanted you to miss your flights? I can’t stop thinking of your eyes, your taste, your smell, your confidence, your intelligence, your humor and your newly uncaged appetite – and my god, that perfect body and cock of yours. Oh wait, also that perfect little virgin ass of yours – even though he hates me!!
Morgan: Safe travels – miss you already.
Damn you, Morgan, I was now rock hard again uncomfortably shifting around in my seat, ruining a perfectly clean pair of underwear. Thankfully first class provides some added spacing to hide the offensive. I couldn’t resist from immediately responding:
Me: Don’t kill me but I’m back at the hotel in my bed – my flight was cancelled – see you in a few minutes.
Within seconds I see Morgan typing in response.
Morgan: I’m going to kill you. I’d do anything for us to be in that bed right now ordering room service and watching a movie. I would have massaged you all day and night – too bad, grandpa! Hope you don’t get another kink in that neck. 🙂
Me: I think your cock gave my back a kink trying to bend over to let you in. And really, us in bed, room service and massage sounds dreamily therapeutic. Though I’m guessing you would have spent most of the time attempting to hack my ass’s code.
Me: PS I’m fucking hard again asshole – and fuck you, my cock (and jaw) are so sore!
Morgan: Don’t blame me – blame Camella! bahahahaha – and yes, I’m right now scheming on a napkin how to manipulate your tush.
Me: right – her tits were so big that I must have sprained my jaw. Btw, how’s that little ass of yours feeling? 🙂
Morgan: fucking sore actually – next time be a bit gentler! (actually don’t)
Me: you woke up this caged animal – sorry.
Morgan: be honest, who’s more responsible for uncaging the beast – me or Camella?
Me: Damn good question – you both owe me for the therapy bills soon to follow – you definitely did more damage to my brain! (compliment FYI)
Morgan: I’m demanding more time with that brain! Sorry – brat time again.
Me: My cock can’t take this – I need to work – your homework is to plan our sequel.
Morgan: Really!!??? Fuck you – now I’m hard.
Me: Jesus – whoever is sitting next to you quickly tell them DO NOT LOOK DOWN
Morgan: I hate you
Morgan: talk soon Foxy
As I begged myself to get focused and back to work, I just continued in this fog thinking about how fucking random it was for this to happen to me. Zero to sixty as I’m full blown flirting up with my male crush.
As I was finally able to catch up on some work, I paused again to remember something. Not a peep from Camella! I admittedly would have loved to have also heard gaziantep escort from my other sexy new friend, but I definitely was too brain dead for any outward effort. I eventually dozed off again and the next thing you know I’m home with my family.
After hours of time with my wife, baby, cats, dogs, nannies, walking the neighborhood and eating – my wife and I settled into bed to read, as we do every night. Of course not wanting her to get any sense that I had just orgasmed half my body weight the last few days, I did my best to show her how much I missed and loved her.
My wife and I just had an unspoken deal where our love truly felt unconditional. She was such an amazing partner, mother to our child and just overall great friend, I still never could see myself wanting to permanently leave her for any situation imaginable. And I’m 99% sure if she found out of my crazy sex adventures, she would understand the animal needed some attention that she simply wasn’t capable or interested in providing. It doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be sleeping on the couch for months, but I’m just confident she wouldn’t break up our partnership. Now if I fell for someone else – that’s another story.
Even with our perfect partnership dynamic, we remained ill-wired for sexual compatibility, hence seemingly why I tramped it up in Chicago. So it took some effort that night to get our groove on, but we made it happen and it was fine, of course without a fraction of the sweat, scream or slapping my recent journey brought.
I was back in the office Friday morning like normal. Happily distracted with the usual chaotic calendar, I fired through most of the day without an ounce of remnant distraction from Chicago. As the afternoon was the turning the corner, I finally walked out of my last meeting to curiously see if any of my new fellow deviants had emailed or texted.
Nothing. And interestingly, I mostly was now thirsting some communication from Camella. Not one thing since our attack. Understandably, did the guilt break her down? Was she too in a relationship she never mentioned? Did Janet beat her down for getting in there before she could? Or was she just smart playing her cards perfectly waiting for my impatience to run dry?
A few more hours of impatience and work, I finally received an email from Janet, with Morgan and Camella cc’d, wanting for us to set up a call the following week to plan next steps.
One day removed and I was already jonesing for my crew, especially my two new crushes. I still didn’t have it in my to chase them, confident they’d come around at some point, so onward I went back to the good old non-sexual routine.
Days went by without a word from either, which helped dilute my itch for the crew. Life was back to its normal routine and rhythm, which was great. Work was cranking, the family life was all smiles, and with the overstock of sex from Chicago, it seemed to lessen the need for that type of attention at home.
Officially one week to the day from our first meeting in the lobby, we were back on the phone together talking about what was needed for next steps. Janet ran point guard to perfection by pointedly delegating what was needed from all parties. Almost sadly, but also understandably, not one us acknowledged anything from our two-day spring break together. I’m guessing everyone had settled back into normal-ville and was putting on their best, professional face. The call was wrapped up with Janet as she still awaiting word on when the customer wanted us back.
Weeks had now passed, which allowed the excitement from Chicago to officially subside. Even though I would have the occasional flashbacks and erotic daydreams of both Camella and Morgan, it for sure wasn’t what I was hoping for to slingshot from that trip. Overall, I’m guessing my brain and body were both hoping for a sequel much sooner.
And truthfully, I’m guessing I subconsciously was wanting more of everything from my two new crushes. It’s not that my ego was bruised from their ghosting, but it was simply more of my selfish desire to interact with them again. They had both exposed what was missing in my life – sex and adventure. And once I began let reality set in and remind myself why I was not at all an attractive pursuit, being married with a family, I more so craved the drug they prescribed in Chicago.
It was a Tuesday afternoon, I had just wrapped up an important financial meeting, which meant my brain had just finished hot yoga. I sat back down at my desk with an iced coffee and began to check the calendar for what was next. Quickly realizing I was now late for a legal call, I quickly checked email. Within a sea of a hundred-plus unchecked emails staring at me in bold, there was one that quickly stood out. From Janet, with the subject, “VEGAS BABY.” Oh fuck.
As I’m dialing into my legal call, I opened her email to read, “the brand from the first meeting has officially invited us to present to their full executive team at their annual conference in Vegas.” This was a big deal for us. This meant the type budgets they were considering for our software far exceeded the levels of any small decision makers, which further meant they were bringing the big guns, which meant millions in potential was officially in reach. Janet said the good news is that they fit us into the conference at the last second. The bad news was, the conference was in 3-weeks, which is like 3-minutes in the business world. From my perspective, the timing didn’t matter, but I understood from Janet’s veteran position, she would normally expect much more time to prepare for such an important meeting. The agenda included a 2-hour meeting with their executive team, in addition to a dinner the following night.
I was now on the legal call officially dazed and confused with this news. So many questions tornado’d through my brain with excitement and nervousness. Instinctively I knew something would catch fire in Vegas, if not Camella or Morgan, Janet and I were the next sexual domino to fall. And no longer shockingly, my cock also groggily woke from his weeks-long nap with one eyebrow up and a mischievous grin.
Even with our sequel officially in motion, I was still curious to see if my crushes would break their silence. Even I was I starting to tempt myself to throw out a desperate, “oh hi stranger” text.
I quickly reminded myself it wouldn’t be cool to pull them back into something that made them not feel good about themselves. And even though it dripped with irony, I refused hurt my new friends. Yes, I’m a piece of shit husband for doing what I did, knowingly it would crush my family. The neglect dynamic somehow gave my guilty conscience a pass on why I behaved this way. I knew at this point in time, I wouldn’t ever leave my family. And since I was still completely guessing at this point, since I hadn’t heard from either, I believe their silence translated into not wanting to mess with the family guy.
The sexual float resurrected with the upcoming trip’s instinctive anticipation, which also meant the flashbacks were becoming more frequent. Their lips, their sweat, their moans – they both brought such unique characteristics to our chemistry.
As the weekend was wrapping up, my phone chirped with a new message. Oh fuck, Morgan.
Morgan: Ughhh – I know I’m not supposed to be excited about this – but fuuuuuuuck! Vegas? Really? Who’s fucking with me/us?
I was in my home office preparing for the week as I read the text. My face quickly converted from a dumbfounded look to an uncontainable smile. Without a thought to consider, I spastically started replying.
Me: About fucking time!! Where have you been??? Damn I missed you!
Morgan: I know I know – I’m sorry!! I fucking miss you too. I figured you were better off taking a break from my brattiness, right? I mean, wouldn’t it just be smarter to keep our randomness to away games? Also I figured you needed some cage time to recharge your animal battery? 🙂
Fuck was he good – he was dead on – cage time just meant we’d eat each other alive the next time we saw each other.
Me: Damn you’re good! Can’t I recharge / cage AND still communicate with you?
Morgan: Who am I kidding – I’ve literally started texting you maybe 500 times – but each time coming to my senses to keep you focused on your happy home life. I know you understand.
Me: Ahhhhh now that’s what I needed to hear!! Okay we’re officially back to BFF’s! And yes I understand – which is why you’re amazing.
Morgan: YESSSSSS – I so miss my foxy.
Me: I need a nickname for you!
Morgan:??? The Amazing Morgan?
Me: hmmmmm – kickstand?
Me: Think…keep thinking…
Morgan: oh real nice – make fun of the special kid – officially your ex-BFF. and btw the the worst nickname ever!
Me: Okay fine – I admit it was a lame one – let me work on the nickname strategy – sorry but your cock is dictating (no pun…) all nicknames
Morgan: I know it’s a problem – and speaking of – how’s your pinhole? btw your cock ain’t no hot dog in a hallway!
Me: Clinching in fear for Vegas! My cock in comparison to yours? might as well nickname mine oscar myer
Morgan: Ahhh – is clinching an excited or fearful anticipation?
Morgan: oh my god you kill me – I almost spit out my drink from laughing at oscar
Me: Jesus you are good – is there such thing as fearful excitement?
Morgan: Okay so big big question – and of course don’t over think this – I was thinking of seeing some family in Orange County the night before Vegas – close enough to have lunch or coffee? I don’t want to mess with mr. bigshot’s schedule
Me: Get out of here – it’s only an hour-ish away – we are for sure lunching it up. Tell me when you fly in and I’ll swoop you up from the airport.
Morgan: Oh god – I get to see foxy on his home turf!!
Me: OC is not home turf – but yes – we won’t be alone in a hotel room slobbering/humping all over each other.
Morgan: Even though the slobber sounds delicious – I’m just excited to see you again. And good – I’m allowing myself to want you on away turf – so now I feel better! 🙂
Me: Fuck I’m excited now – back to my cage – talk soon
Morgan: Would sending you a pic of kickstand help you in the cage?
Before I could even respond.
Morgan: Hahaha I can’t even keep a straight face – kidding – never have and never will
Me: Phew – my phone doesn’t have that kind of storage capacity available
Morgan: Hate you
And just with that – the nerves are firing and my cock starts to stretch coming out of brief retirement.
The next morning, as I’m doing my every day shower routine, which of course includes scrubbing the family business down there, I start to add a bit more attention to my asshole. A pinhole huh? In the spirit of potentially prepping for the big game, I take my soapy middle finger and lightly slide the tip inside. Hey what’s the big deal – the tip of my finger moonwalked right in there! Alright so I pushed further – the soap stung a bit, but not bad overall. I bravely added another, so now two tips danced their way in. Okay okay, not quite moonwalking, but maybe some fox-trotting. I try pushing two fingers further inside – whoa whoa whoa – the music screeched to a halt. My anal confidence quickly deflated and out the shower I went. I’m guessing the shower ass-sex game ain’t for rookies, which I’m not losing sleep over. If I’m going to please my friend, which I ambitiously still plan on doing, he’ll have to work some magic in the bed.
Work was flying by as the trip got closer. Janet punted on all of us staying in one house, as she just thought Vegas being Vegas deserved a hotel next to the action, which made sense. Still nothing from Camella, but at this point I had moved on, fully understanding and respecting whatever her reason was. It didn’t mean I wouldn’t be as excited as I was with Morgan’s outreach, but I had zero expectations at this point. In true Vegas-cliched spirit, I was officially playing with house money now that I was communicating again with Morgan.
The day before Morgan flew in, I started what I’d consider a silly debate inside my head. What car should I pick him up in? My two options – go with my daily ride of a Range Rover? Simple, safe and sturdy. Or break out the ridiculous, rarely used, bat mobile – my black Ferrari 812 GTS.
After the acquisition of the company I decided to treat myself to a reward, but admittedly, something that even I laughed at myself with to my family and close friends. I wasn’t a sports car kind of guy – but had a thing for Batman and felt I had earned a toy to keep around for whenever I had an itch to Batman it up and roar out of my Batcave. I wasn’t one to take myself seriously, but ironically the Ferrari was almost like what happened in Chicago, an escape from the boring life.
Not shockingly whatsoever, I chose the Ferrari, which clearly translated into me wanting to knock Morgan onto his ass when I picked him. In a fun humorous way, make him pay for torturing me to perfection – taking weeks to communicate was something I genuinely admired, but also had to playfully get him back for it.
He was set to arrive at 1pm, which required some explaining on why I was driving the Ferrari to work that day. My laughable explanation to the wife was that I had a late meeting in Orange Country and the car needed some attention. Of course she quickly corrected on who needed the attention as she smiled as if I was trying to explain calculus to a mathematician, but that’s why my wife and I worked so well together. She knew deep down I was hers and that whatever the hell I was up to was for sure temporary. As I was leaving the house, she squinted-smiled, kissed me on the cheek with a “go get em tiger” as she slapped my butt. If she only knew I was chasing a male tiger!!
With the weather playing its Southern California jam, I was wearing a white v-neck t-shirt, navy slacks, favorite Yankees baseball cap and sneakers. As I lit up the roaring engine, top also opened up, music surrounded my head and off I went. As I was enjoying the ride north, I started to get nostalgic about Morgan and I’s first-time experiences. Just how random it all went down. Without the flight turbulence, there would be no nap – without the nap, there would be no kinked neck. Without the kinked neck, for sure we wouldn’t have ended up in my room. And without us being alone drunk and stoned in my hotel room, there would be no Morgan discovery. The fateful dominos just fell into this unique, erotic adventure – one I will smile to the grave with. The crush was real and I was genuinely both excited and nervous to see him.
The other amazing part I discovered while driving alone, solely about myself, was that I did not have one ounce of weirdness that I had a crush on another man. This wasn’t a gay or straight debate any longer in my head. This was solely an analysis about my crush on Morgan, the human that drove me fucking bananas and wanting more.