by James Lear
‘Oh.’
‘Whenever you’re ready.’
He fiddled around with glasses, tidying up, wiping imaginary dust from surfaces. From my abject position splayed out on the sofa covered in my own come, I could see that Graham was still very much aroused. Perhaps he was in a hurry to get me out of the way so he could take care of himself. Maybe he was one of those guys who can’t get off with anyone else, who can only masturbate in private.
I sat up and sighed. ‘OK. Where did you say? Up the stairs?’
He pointed to the door, his back toward me. ‘Yes.’
I stood. My cock was still fully hard, a drop of spunk hanging off it. That orgasm was not enough. I was not finished. ‘Thanks, then.’
I was about to gather up my clothes and retreat when Graham turned to look at me. He cleared his throat, looked at the floor, looked at my cock, looked in my eyes. ‘Of course, if you’re not quite ready to go . . . ’
‘Yes?’
‘You could, you know, hang out for a bit.’
‘Oh. Well, if you’re sure you don’t mind.’
He laughed, thank God, and the tension disappeared. ‘I think I’ll cope. Are you warm enough?’
‘Yes thanks.’ My cock was pulsing with every beat of my heart. I wanted Graham to touch me again.
‘Want another drink?’
‘Not really.’
‘What do you want, Joe?’
‘Actually . . . ’ I knew exactly what I wanted, but it sounded ridiculous, like something in a bad sitcom. I hesitated too long. He raised his eyebrows. Oh come on, for Christ’s sake, spit it out. The worst he can say is no. ‘I want to go to bed with you.’
‘Oh.’ He scratched his chin. ‘I see.’
‘Sorry, if that’s off limits . . . ’
‘No, no, it’s not that. Just not what I was expecting at all. Not the, you know,’ he made air quotes, ‘scenario.’
‘Fuck the scenario.’
‘Now when you say you want to go to bed, you mean what exactly?’
God, did I have to spell it out? Apparently so. I stepped over to Graham, kissed him and grabbed his crotch. ‘I want you to take your clothes off and take me to bed and have sex with me. Is that exact enough for you?’
He put one hand on my arse, the other on the back of my neck, and pulled me in for a kiss that left both of us breathless. By the time we broke apart, his finger was inside me, and my cock was making a fine mess over the front of his trousers.
‘Come on.’
He took me by the cock and led me upstairs. We got as far as the first landing before we started kissing again. I unzipped his fly and reached inside; he was still hard. I wanted him so badly, I almost wrestled him to the carpet, but he stopped my hand and led me to the bedroom door.
‘There we are,’ he said, showing me a bed that could easily accommodate four adults. ‘Will that do?’
I threw myself down on the silky blue cover, cool and slippery against my back. ‘Please strip.’
‘Seriously? I mean, I’m not exactly the body beautiful. I’m not like you.’
‘Shut up and take off your clothes.’
He undressed methodically, as if he was just getting ready to sleep. His body was fine—excellent for a man of his age and not bad for someone ten or fifteen years younger. A little thick round the middle, the muscles no longer as firm as they once were, but everything solid, warm, and hairy. His cock was half hard now, hanging down over his balls. He nervously fluffed it. I guess he wasn’t used to things going this far. Perhaps he had not done this in a while. That said, neither had I, if we’re talking about actually sharing a bed, being intimate, being equal. I came here to explore the inequality of the clothed male and the naked male, and it had led to this.
Graham lay on his side facing me. I turned to face him, put my arms around him, and began to kiss him again. Our cocks were pressed together, mine rock-hard, his quickly getting that way. His hands were on my arse, kneading my buttocks, pulling them apart, fingers finding the hole. Was he reading my mind? I wanted to be fucked, and I wanted Graham to be the first to do it. I was so ready for it, just the thought was almost enough to make me come again.
But how could I—the straight one, let us not forget, the married one—seal the deal? Surely I was supposed to be on top, masculine, active, all that crap from which I was trying to escape. What was the script? It’s so easy with a man and a woman; he’s going to stick it in her unless she’s got a strap-on, I guess. But how does it work between men? Graham’s gay, but does that mean he automatically takes the female role? And is it actually female? Of course not. I’m a man, and I want him inside me; that doesn’t make me a woman.
As I said before, I never really had to think about these things before. I’d taken everything for granted, just as it was handed to me. But now, with Graham’s fingers working away on my arse and his hard cock jousting with mine, my mind was racing. I was confused. I didn’t know what to say.
Graham helped me out.
‘I’d really love to fuck you, you know,’ he said, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt so grateful. I ground my hips against him in thanks. ‘Only if you’re sure.’
‘I’m sure,’ I mumbled.
‘Just don’t want you to think I’m forcing you.’
‘It’s OK,’ I said, ‘You have my full consent. I’ll put it in writing if you want. Now can we get on with it?’
Graham laughed, and we kissed again, our hard cocks pressing together. I seemed to be conscious on two levels: One part of me was flooded with pleasure and excitement, and the other was thinking ‘well, I’m doing it at last, I’m in bed with a man, and he’s going to fuck me; this should be interesting, what does it all mean?’ and so on. Lust and consciousness sparked off each other. It feels so good, oh my God he’s going to do it, it feels even better, I’m doing what gay men do, it feels even better and so on, a self-perpetuating cycle.
‘You’d better suck me first, then.’
He didn’t need to ask twice. I worked my way down his body, kissing as I went. He grabbed my head, massaging my skull and pushing me down. My chin reached the solid shaft of his cock, and I took it in my hand. This was going inside me. This was going to take me to the next stage of my transformation. I was going to grip it inside my arse, riding it until it came.
I opened my mouth and took as much of it as I could without gagging. I’ve had a bit of practice in the oral department, so I didn’t disgrace myself. Graham said ‘oh, Jesus’ and very gently fucked my mouth, making sure he didn’t go too far. Much as I appreciated it, I hoped he wouldn’t be overly careful when it came to my arse.
I sucked as well as I could, loving the feeling of his hard cock in my mouth, but I was impatient for the main event. I released him and looked up with what I hoped was an imploring expression.
‘Ready?’ he asked.
‘As ready as I’ll ever be.’
‘Ever done this before?’
‘No.’
‘Seriously? I’m the first one?’
‘Yes.’ I was blushing, but there was already so much blood in my head it didn’t show.
‘I’m honoured.’
I took his hand and pulled it down to my arse. ‘It’s all yours.’
‘You know it’s going to hurt, don’t you?’
‘Yes. I . . . kind of want it to.’
‘You might feel differently when it actually happens.’ He reached over to the bedside table and opened a drawer. ‘But let’s find out. Do you want to do this?’ He handed me a condom packet.
I tore it open and rolled the rubber down over Graham’s prick. I enjoyed doing it, being an active part of my surrender. Next came the lube in one of those handy pump dispensers. I slicked him up and put the excess on my hole.
‘Want to take a finger first?’
‘No. I want this.’ I squeezed his slippery sheathed cock. I got up on my knees, and put one on either side of Graham’s waist. My arse met his dick, and I squirmed around on it.
‘For now.’ I took hold of him and steered his dick head toward my hole, found the right angle, and then slowly lowered myself onto it, using my thigh muscles to control the descent. Graham stayed stock still. He could easily have shoved upward, but he let my anus do the work. He was right: It did hurt, and not in the wonderfully overwhelming way I had imagined. It felt like a red hot poker. I grimaced and hissed through my teeth.
‘Want to stop?’
‘Yeah. It really fucking hurts.’
‘It’s OK. Just get off for a moment.’
Reluctantly, I let him go. Was that it? One stab of pain? Was that what I’d been wanking over for all these years?
‘Try to relax. Take some deep breaths and think about letting go. Let’s get you hard again.’ My cock had softened, but Graham knew exactly how to get it hard again with the gentlest of strokes, his hand curling round it and fingertips brushing it. Soon I was back to full stiffness and raring to try again.
This time, he slipped inside me quite easily, and although I tensed in anticipation of the pain, it didn’t come. I did as he told me, breathing, letting go, and I managed, with care, to sit all the way down on his stiff cock. I won’t say it felt particularly good, but it didn’t hurt. In fact, it felt unpleasantly like I needed to take a big dump, a thought I tried to banish from my mind.
We stayed as we were for a while, getting used to the new sensations, looking in each other’s eyes. My cock was oozing from the pressure on my prostate—a puddle was forming on Graham’s stomach. He scooped it up with his fingers and stuck them in my mouth. That was all I needed—suddenly the strange sensation up my arse was translated into pleasure, the most complete, overwhelming, unbearable pleasure I had ever experienced. I moved my hips a bit, and the pleasure intensified. Within moments I was bouncing up and down on him, taking him as deep and hard as I possibly could. Once I’d got my balance, I was able to ride hands-free. I put my hands behind my head, rubbing my cheeks and chin against my flexed biceps. I was sweating, smearing the sticky pre-come from my lips over my wet skin. My cock was beating a tattoo on Graham’s abdomen.
I could easily have carried on doing this until I came, but I wanted to be fucked—to be the recipient of Graham’s thrusting, to take it like a woman. On my knees, on my back. I unseated myself, making sure that the condom stayed in place, and got on all fours. He took the hint.
‘You’re ready for this now,’ he said, kneeling behind me. He grabbed my hips and shoved it straight in, pushing down on the back of my neck so my face was crushed against the mattress. Now there was no holding back—Graham was fucking me like he meant it, pulling me into him with each forward thrust, opening me up in a way I never imagined possible. My brain was overloaded, buzzing with interference; all I could hold onto was the fact that I didn’t want to come yet, that I wanted this to go on for as long as possible. He reached round and took hold of my cock, which was still hard, and started stroking it. I had to stop him.
‘No. Not yet.’
He understood and continued his assault from the rear, using his hands to spread my cheeks as far open as possible. ‘I wish you could see this.’
I could only grunt in reply.
‘I’m getting close,’ he said. ‘Do you want it like this?’
‘No. Can I turn over? I want to . . . ’ what? See his face while he fucked me? Or to take it on my back, like a woman? That was the thought that kept running through my brain. It didn’t make sense, and I’m sure that someone somewhere would be offended by the idea if I said it aloud, but who can police their thoughts at times like this?
Graham pulled out of me and carefully placed a couple of pillows for me to rest my back on. I got comfortable, drew my knees up to my chest, and reached around to guide him in. Once he’d entered me, I rocked back a little, allowing him to pump deeper inside me. This was it. This was what I wanted. His face was above mine, the full weight of his body was on me and in me. He pulled my head up, stretching my neck, and kissed me. The fucking got harder, faster, harder, faster, and he started to groan. ‘I’m going to come,’ he said, ‘I can’t stop now.’
I struggled to get one hand between our pumping bodies to my cock, gripped it and wanked it. It was too much—the battering from within, the feeling of fullness and surrender, and now the familiar feeling of my hand on my cock. We came together, bellowing like oxen.
We slept together, Graham and I. We held each other to start with, in my case at least unwilling to let go of something so unexpected. I had forgotten the warmth and comfort of being held. He wrapped himself around my back, one arm crooked beneath his head, the other around my waist. I pressed myself into him, his cock against my arse where it belonged. As I drifted off to sleep, I replayed the fuck in my mind and got hard again. I took his hand and placed it on my dick, and there it stayed, wrapped around the stiffness, until I fell asleep.
At some point we separated, and I awoke in the dark unsure of where I was, two seconds of complete blankness before I remembered. Graham was still there, his breathing deep and steady, lying on his back, his hairy chest rising and falling. I turned toward him, stroked his stomach, and let my hand drift down to his cock. I wanted him again. He would disappear, just like Simon, and I wanted more to remember. Graham sighed and shifted his hips toward me. Soon he was hard under the covers. I moved down and started sucking. Within five minutes, I was rolling another condom on his cock, lubing myself up, and climbing on again, learning how to control my own sensations, how to take him deeper inside without pain. I rode him hard, taking what I wanted, and came all over his stomach. Graham rolled the condom off, wiped himself with a tissue, and shuffled up the bed so he could stick it in my mouth. He still tasted of rubber, but I wasn’t complaining. I sucked his cock like my life depended on it, rubbing it over my face, taking his balls in my mouth, sticking my tongue down the slit, kissing and licking, and then, when he was close to orgasm, letting him fuck my throat. He came in my mouth, flooding it with salty juice, and I kept him there until he started to go soft.
We slept for a few more hours, and when I woke, Graham was gone.
I found him in the kitchen in a bathrobe, making coffee. I was naked.
‘Ah. You’re awake. I was going to bring you coffee in bed.’
I kissed him and put my arms around him. He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t return the kiss with any passion. This was it, then—the transition into politeness and regret, the empty promises of further meetings, a handshake at the door.
I took the coffee, suddenly very aware of my nakedness. The hair on my chest and stomach was matted with dried spunk, both his and mine. My arse was sore, and my mouth and chin were raw from his stubble. I perched on a stool at the breakfast bar, waiting for him to say something.
It took a minute of painful silence before he said, ‘I suppose you have to get to work, don’t you?’
The clock on the stove said 7:55.
‘Yeah. In a bit.’
‘There’s a towel for you in the bathroom.’
‘Thanks.’
He was fiddling around with plates and glasses, and not looking at me. Oh well. It was fun while it lasted. At least I’d got two fucks out of him. Two fucks to remember when I’m lying alone in my daughter’s bed. I slipped off the stool, hoping I hadn’t ruined the white leather upholstery, and took my mug with me.
‘You know,’ said Graham, as I was at the door, ‘you achieved something remarkable last night.’
I turned to face him. His dressing gown was coming loose, and I could see his firm, hairy body from throat to navel. ‘Really? What was that?’
‘You made me come twice in, what, five hours?’
‘Oh. Yes. Well, thanks.’
‘I don’t usually come at all.’
‘What?’
‘Rarely, at least. It’s my age. I thought I was past it.’
I stepped back into the kitchen, put my mug down, and stood right in front of him. Pred
ictably, my cock was rising again.
‘Past it? You must be joking.’
Graham shrugged. ‘That’s why I usually go for that CMNM stuff. It means I don’t have to worry about performing. You rather caught me out on that.’
‘Well, it’s not every day you get the chance to fuck a virgin.’ I stroked his hairy chest with the back of my hand. ‘And now you’ve broken me in.’ My hand travelled south. He didn’t stop me.
‘If you think you’re going to get a third load, I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed.’
‘Mind if I try?’ His robe fell open, and his cock was far from flaccid.
‘Be my guest. But I can’t guarantee . . . oh, Jesus.’ I went to my knees on the kitchen tiles and started sucking him. Work would have to wait. He was getting hard in my mouth; I held him there and felt him grow toward the back of my throat. He probably thought I was a complete slut, that the whole ‘married virgin’ thing was an act, I was just hungry for cock. The idea excited me.
‘Come on, then,’ he said. ‘Let’s see if we can go for the hat trick.’ He pulled me to my feet. ‘Now get up on that table. On all fours. That’s it. Open your arse for me, boy. And push that cock back. Show me how hard you are.’
He placed a hand on each of my buttocks, pulled them wide, and dove in with his tongue. He was even stubblier this morning, and it felt as if someone had just applied electrodes to my backside. My head was near the wall (tastefully tiled in black granite) and jammed up against a rack of hanging kitchen implements.
A finger replaced his tongue, working its way inside me in a corkscrew motion, finding my prostate. Pre-come was starting to drip onto the table. Another finger, and another, three fingers were fucking me as I moaned and cursed. ‘You fucking love it, don’t you?’ said Graham, and he was right, I did. I just wanted more. ‘Please. Please fuck me.’
‘Come on then. Upstairs.’
This time, he did me on all fours on the bedroom floor and pulled out just in time to flip me over and come on my face. Then he cradled me in his arms and wanked me off.
By the time we’d showered and dressed it was 9:15, and I was late for work. I called in with some story about cancelled trains. There was no voicemail or text from Angie. Perhaps she had never even noticed that I hadn’t come home.