He stood there panting. “Oh that’s good, that’s good.”
I was slightly disappointed he didn’t plaster me but knew have ever opportunity to creme me in the future. I looked up at his wilting cock, cum still leaking from the tip. He switched off the shower and got out.
“Hey come and get dry.” he said holding out a big towel. I crawled out of the shower.
“Oh, that was amazing.” I said. “I’m exhausted.”
“You’re exhausted!?” Exclaimed Peter, laying a towel over me. We both agreed. He helped me dry off, slipped on a shirt and pants and told me he’d fix up some refreshments. I stayed in the bathroom a little longer, contemplating what had just happened.
I slipped on my boxer shorts and ambled downstairs. Peter fixed me a drink and suggested we lay out in the sun for a while ‘to cool down’. I ventured out into the back garden and lay face down on the sunlounger. Short while later he came out with a glass of ice cool juice and set it down beside me. He perched himself on the edge of the sunlounger and began gently massaging my shoulders.
“So did you think about me, when you went home last night?” He asked.
“Yeah, of course. How could I forget.” I tried to reassure.
“…And it was your first time too?”
“Yes, it was.” I said.
“Did you like it?” Peter was curious.
“It felt strange…at first,” I answered trying to give more detail, “but I’m glad it was with you.”
“Arrrr, thanks. It will be strange the first time…”
“Have you ever done it?” I interrupted.
“Taken anal?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I have tried it. Sometimes when I fancy something different. Did you like getting sucked too?”
I paused for a moment unsure how to answer, I hoped the question wasn’t an invitation but didn’t want to offend Peter.
“Umm, yeah it was ok.” I said. “It’s kind of more…more normal, than the anal sex thing. I like to have something unusual in my life, some kind of secret thing that only I can know about. I think I like it more because of that.”
“You like it because it’s a secret that you have with me?” Peter asked.
“I think so yes. I’m a nice boy. Occasionally the guys joke about doing that to girls when we get a bit rowdy, but nobody would ever dream that I would like doing it.” He laughed.
“Indeed. So do you like girls as well then?” His hands rested still for the moment.
“Yeah, I like girls.” I answered. “But it’s different, a different thing to this.”
“Um.” He mumbled. I wasn’t sure if he was disappointed with what I’d just said. It had been a truthful answer.
“Well you must’ve liked women at some point?” I asked. “Else, you’d have never got with your wife?”
“True,” Agreed Peter. “I suppose we were happy together for a while, but only a short while really. The wheels started to fall off the wagon soon after we got married – that’s when I really began to realise who I was.”
“You are still on speaking terms though?”
“Yeah, she wasn’t so understanding at first, but now we get on Ok. Not Gary – her new husband though. He is a real asshole. Full of himself you know? We had a falling out. Apparently it was because he hates gays, says they’re all sick and should be locked up. Suzie tries to play it down says he just has difficulty understanding, but; whatever – he’s not a nice guy.”
“That’s a shame.” I said. I reached down for my drink, took a sip, then rolled over to lie on my back.
“So you don’t have a girl at the moment then?” He asked. I suspected that the female issue was bugging him a little, so tried not to make a big thing out of it.
“No.” I answered swiftly. “…Do you have anyone else?” I asked curiously. He looked down at his glass. “It’s ok, I mean I don’t mind if you do.” He looked a little unsure but began to tell me.
“I was seeing someone, but it’s all a bit of a mess. We haven’t spoken in a few weeks.”
“What was his name?” I asked, tactfully trying to find out more.
“Oh, Richard. He is younger than me, although not as young as you. He is married, so another closeted guy. I think it is over between us after our last argument…I think the main problem is he is not being true to himself and is trying to play happy families – living as a married man.”
“Well, I’m sure you can sympathise, if you’ve been in the same situation. I mean, what I’m trying to say is there must have been some time when you realised who you were but still went on living with your wife?”
“Yeah, you got me there again. I guess I am being a hypocrite – still doesn’t make it easy though.”
“…Still…interesting though, another married guy.”
“What do you mean?” Peter asked.
“Well, you, your friend Richard have all been gay guys living a straight life, and if someone surveyed me, I’d probably tick the box that said ‘straight’. It kind of ties in with what we were talking about yesterday – how many hide their tendencies, case examples and all that?”
“Yeah, maybe. You never think that these statistics are made up from actual people like you and I.”
“Yeah, but that’s my point, we’ve all been, at some point in our lives classed as ‘straight’ when what we got up to last night would suggest otherwise. I wonder how many more people there are like that?”
“Perhaps there are twice as many gays as they say.”
“Perhaps the whole world is gay.” We both laughed.
I left his house later that afternoon. He asked me to stay longer, hinting at an overnight stop, but I declined. I felt that I knew him well enough but wasn’t sure that was my thing. I enjoyed the sex and company but, somehow, snuggling down to bed with another man felt like a step towards something more like a typical relationship. I didn’t want that, especially after only two days of knowing the guy. I hoped that he understood.
He said he had to work tomorrow but would like to meet up in the evening – suggesting we meet at a bar in town. He explained it would be easier because he worked close and it was near to where I lived. The going out to a bar together felt a bit too close to a relationship thing. I was really only in this for the sex. Feeling slightly guilty about this, I agreed to meet Peter at the bar.
Tomorrow came around quickly. I arrived at the bar in plenty of time. I had been thinking about Peter all day, hoping we would get it on again that night. I didn’t feel much like hanging around a bar so had already decided that after the first drink I’d ask him to take me back to the house. I entered the bar and had a quick look round – he was nowhere to be seen. So I sat down at the bar and ordered a beer.
“You’re kind of young looking?” Said the barman, “You got any I.D?” I pulled out my wallet and showed the man. “Ok, thanks. Just gotta check.”
I sipped the beer slowly, hoping Peter would arrive soon. I was a bit early but hoped he’d be there waiting. 20 minutes passed and he still hadn’t turned up. Every time the door to the bar opened, I would look around to see who it was. Ten more minutes passed and he still wasn’t here.
The door swung open once more, I looked around but it wasn’t him. Instead it was a group of three guys. They all looked about 40, stylishly dressed with leather jackets and smart shoes. One of them seemed familiar. He looked like the guy in the black sedan – Peter’s ex wife’s husband. I wasn’t sure it was him, but he had the same length black hair, the same moustache. Last time of course, he’d been wearing sunglasses – a pair of raybans, if it was him: then he wasn’t wearing them today. His two buddies made for the pool table whilst the man came up to the bar right next to where I was sitting.