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A Dilemma

By: Petersimpson



I wrote this at the request of a Literotica reader who contacted me to ask whether I could write about a dilemma he'd undergone as a result of provocation - after which he'd spent some time questioning his sexuality. 

He felt his experience might be of help to others who found themselves in similar situations but reckoned he wasn't any good at writing, so would I write about it for him? I said I'd give it consideration and what did it involve? 

In the end, we met up and after a couple of hours chatting, I felt that his experience might indeed represent those of others who'd been similarly curious but doubtful. Accordingly, I recorded what he had to say and after many follow-up phone conversations to check various points, I wrote this story with his approval and on his behalf. For ease of composition, I have written it in the first person.

There is certainly some gay sex in what I've written but the main objective was to address my new friend's questions, doubts and concerns; and I truly hope that I have been successful in adequately framing those on his behalf. 

In so far as I am aware, the events depicted are true.

*****

I've always been an inveterate womaniser and hitherto never remotely considered any form of sexual encounter with my own gender. Yet a couple of years ago my equilibrium was disturbed for the first time since pre-teens, by the onset and continuation of another's long-term provocation. 

But I go back a little.

I had always been fairly tolerant of my children and their friends. It was rare for our house not to be playing host to a range of teenagers - both male and female and both singly and in numbers. There were many parties and when one or two of my kids' older friends had the inevitable clashes with their parents, we'd often find them living with us for a few days whilst they sorted themselves out. Occasionally it was for a few weeks and on one occasion, for over three months. In essence, our home provided them with a kind of 'half-way house' between the strictures of their parents and the possibility of going astray if they were to rely on the town and its streets for their recreation.

But to return to my subject . . . . one of the guys had been making occasional boisterous grabs at me after he noticed that my nipples were somewhat prominent when I was topless in summer heat. His game was to pinch one of them quite hard, particularly if both my hands were occupied with various tasks - whereupon he would then run off shrieking with laughter and leave me to bluster and threaten his departing form. 

After a while, he went missing for a few months and his place was taken by another lad who, it turned out, had been handed the mantle to continue the assaults whenever the opportunity arose. And take it he did, with even more enthusiasm than the originator of the 'game'. But there was one subtle difference in that the hard pinching of the first guy had now given way to a gentle tweak from his 'replacement' and although the surprise element was still practiced, the grabs were by no means so painful as before.

One early evening I was dozing on the sofa after a long and strenuous walk with our four dogs. In a semi-somnolent state I began to daydream that a girl was caressing me. I could almost feel her mouth on my nipple, gently massaging it through the material of my thin T-shirt. As I came partially awake, I began to wonder if it might be real, for my day-dream now had a tongue pressing my nipple between tongue and lip and seeming to manipulate it in a deliciously sensuous manner. To my still only semi-conscious state the feeling was exquisite. It wasn't immediately sexy but the tongue's caress instigated a feeling of intense comfort - almost like that which a mother must feel with a child feeding at her breast. My mind returned to its sleepy fantasising and I did nothing but continue to lie half asleep and let the imaginary mouth have full rein. 

Just as the sense of comfort was giving way to one of erotic dreaming, my wanderings were interrupted by the crashing sound of teenagers rushing into the next-door kitchen from outside. I knew they'd come into the room as soon as they'd taken off their shoes, so I sat up rubbing my eyes to see if someone actually had been there; but when I took my hands away, I was alone in the room. Despite my earlier sense of reality then, I assumed it must have been a dream after all and I just forgot about it. 

Nothing much further happened for a while, except for the odd minor event which, had I been more alert, I'd have realised as first indicators that there might be something developing. For instance, Michael (the 'nipple-grabber') always appeared to sit next to me whenever we were all lazing around the morning after parties; but because so many people were in and out of our house all the time anyway, it was some while before his behaviour actually began to register with me. 

In the back of my mind I was vaguely aware someone had once mentioned that Michael openly professed bi-sexuality - although when questioned, he seemingly stressed that of the two, he preferred women. None of this appeared particularly unusual, since it was quite the craze for some of their age group to adopt the fashionable mantle of being 'different' sexually. I did however semi-consciously begin to notice that Michael was often marginally possessive of me; but again, I must have thought nothing too much of that either at the time. 

With hindsight, I should perhaps have recognised the implications of his behaviour. 

In the end I couldn't help but notice one aspect - if he arrived late, whether we were inside the house or outside in the garden, he would always come straight over to where I was sitting and announce loudly to all present, 

"I'm sitting next to Tom, so get out of the way you guys." 

He would then plonk down at my side - or if someone else was already sitting next to me, he'd squeeze between us and wriggle down until he'd made a place for himself. Thereafter, he would ensure that he was the only one sitting close to me and his hand would occasionally brush my thigh quite high up in ways which, if I had objected, or if anyone else had noticed, could be laughingly dismissed as accidental or only larking about. 

From time to time, he would massage my feet when I had my shoes off indoors and his hand would sometimes reach up around my ankle and slip under the bottom of my jeans to pull down my sock tops and stroke my lower calf. It was all very pleasurable and since one or two of the girls would also occasionally massage my shoulders or back, nobody seemed to pass any comment, so I just enjoyed the relaxation in the way one would a massage

Not wishing to initiate a disturbance over such trivialities by drawing attention to any of this, I found myself neutrally accepting of his behaviour, assuming if anything, that it was maybe a teen 'crush' which would probably wear off without the need for action on my part. 

I had long since discovered that he was a surprisingly interesting conversationalist and found myself looking forward to our frequent chats over a wide variety of subjects, ranging from latest music trends to what was happening within their group and from politics to science, history and philosophy. Often we'd become deeply involved in detail and would frequently branch off into side issues. His maturity in many subjects shone through and it was sometimes difficult to remember that it was a teenager with whom I was conversing and not a fully expanded adult mind.

I suppose I was unconsciously flattered that one of the young should appear to enjoy the conversation and close proximity of me as an older person; but I was never really conscious of the age differential in this context because he appeared so capable of rationalising most day-to-day matters in an adult fashion and generally reached what I considered to be surprisingly mature and logical decisions. 

I thus thought no more about his over-familiarity but bearing in mind how long it went on however, I should perhaps have identified a little more than just a teenage 'crush' on an older man.

Then matters took a step forward - a step which came about through a specific instance which, to be honest, provoked a curiosity in me that I hadn't experienced since the giggling excitements of pre-pubescent youth when we used to naughtily explore each others' bodies late at night in the boarding school dormitory. 

What happened was that one evening while another guy and I were sharing a joint and having a few beers, I learned of an event which the guy laughingly said had occurred late one night a month or so before. Apparently, he'd caught Michael about to take full advantage of my sleeping (and rather inebriated) form on the sofa after a party to surreptitiously explore my crotch. Seemingly, Michael had already undone my zip and seemed about to go further, when the other lad came into the room. Seeing what was happening, he'd told Michael he was way out of order and had better zip me up again before I woke and went ape shit.

I was truly amazed that Michael would dare to do such a thing and although I'd not in any way been an active participant I felt somewhat embarrassed about the incident. Thus I asked the other guy to keep it between ourselves, lest a problem should be caused if it ever came out. Being born in a more enlightened age than me, he actually saw nothing particularly unusual in same gender attraction, even if it was inter-generational. His only gripe was that Michael had taken unfair advantage of my being asleep to exercise his curiosity. Nonetheless, he respected my wishes and agreed to keep silent on the matter. 

I however, also had another reaction which surprised me when some time later that night I had a delayed realisation that hearing of the event had mildly excited me.

Although I soon outwardly forgot about it, the incident must have remained in the back of my mind for some time afterwards, because during another evening when we'd all had far too many beers a few weeks later, Michael was left staying over with us after all the others had gone home. 

We covered him with a duvet on the sofa where I'd been sitting earlier and my son went off to bed in his own room. When I came to turn out the light upon going to bed myself, the sight of Michael's sleeping form reminded me of the incident and I drunkenly thought I might seek revenge.

Thus I waited with another beer until I thought he'd be properly asleep and then with considerable nervousness, I quietly opened my bedroom door and slipped into the sitting room, before silently making my way over towards the sofa and gently lowering onto my knees. With one hand holding a small digital camera I felt my way under his sleeping bag and lifted the duvet clear of his body so that the camera's cold body wouldn't inadvertently touch and possibly wake him up while I sought the waistband of his boxers. Thereafter, it was my intention to pull the top of his boxers far enough away to expose his dick to the camera and take a picture with which I could effectively threaten him with general exposure if he ever tried to interfere with my sleeping form again. 

I drunkenly had it in mind that if he woke up during the process, I could easily explain away my actions by claiming to have been looking for my lighter which must have fallen out of a pocket when I was sitting on the sofa earlier.

In my irrational state of inebriation, I also initially convinced myself that I was only seeking revenge for his earlier action a few weeks before; but if I'm to be honest, a degree of curiosity had also been sparked within me following some catty remarks from a couple of the girls in his group about the smallness of his dick. Bearing in mind how many girls he'd purportedly been with, their claims seemed unlikely but in my drunken state, I determined to find out.

All this was somewhat tenuous reasoning I know - but then again, such is the mind of the inebriated and I thus set about my task. 

Hardly daring to breathe, I very gently slid my hand over his thigh, seeking the waist-band of his boxers - but he was lying on his back and before reaching that point, my fingers encountered the outline of his cock through the thin material. Without any thought for the ramifications of what I was about to do, I instinctively began to explore what he had between his legs. 

Bearing in mind what the girls had said, he actually felt a little smaller than I had expected but within seconds his penis seemed to be slowly lengthening under my finger-tips and ignoring the likelihood that he could still be awake, I was surprised to feel a very definite hardening of my own. I took one hand away from what I was doing, in order to adjust my jeans, before returning it to explore further.

I found myself really excited by the wonderful sensation of fondling his penis while he slept and as I tentatively investigated its growing tumescence, I became so preoccupied with my task that I abandoned the camera on the floor beside me and lifting the waistband of his boxers with one hand, I slipped the other inside so that I could explore him properly without any material diluting my sense of touch. 

When I carefully took his now naked length in my hand again, I was further surprised to discover just how much I revelled in the seductive feel of his hardening shaft. I was fascinated by the contrasting softness of the outer covering flesh - particularly his unusually long foreskin which I delighted in gently pulling outwards beyond what felt like quite a large head. Unashamedly, I slipped my other hand in to feel and gently play with his balls - and he hardened even more. As I began to lightly squeeze along the length of his shaft, he came up to a full erection and without thinking he might wake up, I began to instinctively but carefully masturbate him.

I was just warming to my task when he moved suddenly and one of his hands touched my arm. Without thinking, I immediately panicked and worried that he might have woken up and be about to make a scene, I grabbed the camera and crawled away from the sofa towards the sitting room door. I then returned to my own room, suddenly sobering up and shaking with the shocking realisation of what I'd been doing.

Later on, when I heard nothing further from the sitting room, I assumed that he might not have been awake after all but just moving in his sleep. Having persuaded myself to that being the case, my mind returned to dwell on the experience and despite earlier worries, I found that recalling the wonderfully erotic feel of his fully erect cock in my hand excited me. Accordingly, and with my moving fingers encouraging further fantasy, I sought relief before finally turning over to sleep.

The following morning Michael was still lying under the sleeping bag - but awake - when I went into the living room. In response to the usual throwaway question about how well he'd slept, he made some remark about not sleeping too well at one stage because he'd been harassed by something or other - had we perhaps got mice in the house? 

He said it with a very knowing and perhaps slightly hopeful grin on his face and with that in mind, I realised that unlike me when he'd tried the same thing all those weeks before, he must actually have been awake throughout my intrusion. 

Yet he'd done nothing to curtail my surreptitious exploration of his penis and balls, so had his hand movement then, been about to help and not to stop me? The length of time he'd allowed me to so intimately fondle him led me to think it was the former. However, I had a feeling that he wasn't about to initiate any more discussion on the matter himself. Instead, it seemed as if he was just leaving it to me to move the topic on . . . . 

When I didn't take him up on it, I thought I detected a fleeting look of regret on his face. Had he then perhaps been enjoying my intrusion? 

Either way, I felt really embarrassed at having let my guard down and be carried away to the extent of enjoying an illicit thrill - aIbeit I had been quite drunk at the time. I was a little worried he might blurt something out in front of my son and in desperation, I covered up my resultant confusion by saying that we had to get off to the shop to buy some breakfast eggs and bacon. I duly departed with my son, thus leaving him on his own in the room. On my return, having left my son at the bus stop to go into town, no further mention of the incident came up during the ensuing breakfast.

A week or so later he rang up one evening and asked to speak to one of the kids. I said that they'd all gone out for the night and wouldn't be back until later the following day; but he replied by saying that was fine because it was actually me he wanted to talk to in private anyway - and could I possibly pick him up so he could chat to me about what was troubling him? 

My stomach immediately sank at thought of having to discuss the events of 'that night' and I wondered how on earth I could possibly talk around what in my mind, had now become an extremely embarrassing situation. 

Yet I need not have worried at the time, because his next remark reassured me. It seemed there'd been some enormous row at home with his parents and he wanted to ask another adult's view on things and see if I had any advice to offer. 

I immediately relaxed because it was far from unusual for one or other of my kids' friends to seek my impartial view on how they should deal with various situations in their lives. Wherever possible, I always tried to offer sound advice in return - ah, the joys of being the older person to whom they all felt they could talk!

I duly drove off to pick him up and once back at our home, we discussed his problem at length, with me giving him as much advice as I felt appropriate. 

We then had a couple of beers, before out of the blue and almost in mid-sentence, he went quiet for a few moments. Then he gazed down into his glass before eventually looking up again and staring straight into my eyes with a wide grin on his face, he raised the very situation I'd been dreading. 

In a very quiet voice he said,

"I hope you don't mind my asking you this but what was that all about the other night then Tom?"

For a moment, I was completely stunned and covered in confusion. It had come out of the blue, just when I'd begun to relax and optimistically think the incident to be dead in the water. I was stuck over what to say for a moment, desperately trying to think of anything which might defuse the situation and perhaps allow me to divert the conversation without appearing too obvious,

"Er . . . . the other night . . . . erm, what do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean Tom." He replied gently but firmly with a disarming grin, "All that business on the sofa when you obviously thought I was asleep!"

Amazed by the directness of his approach, I remained completely flustered and in an attempt to give myself time to think about how to deal with it, I asked him if he'd first like to join me in another beer.

"I'd love one Tom, thank you." Then laughingly, "But don't think I won't ask the same question when you come back again!"

I went to the kitchen and returning with two cans of beer, I handed one to him and sat down again. I noticed my hand was trembling as I filled my glass.

"Well?" he said with an even wider and wicked grin, "You were about to tell me what that was all about the other night on the sofa when you thought I was asleep and ... Well, I think you know what I mean?"

I remained silent for a further minute or so and took a pull at my beer as he continued to grin at me, obviously enjoying my confusion but equally, still seeking an answer.

"Well Michael, you see . . . . ," I began with an exaggerated confidence I certainly didn't feel.


A Dilemma in Three Parts



We have been lovers for some months now, and belong to a small group of bondage enthusiasts who gather every other week or so to play. Tonight is your first time as the center of attention. I bring you into a small room where two dominant women are just finishing up lacing another woman into a corset. You are taken in hand, and told to strip, and you do, down to your new corset, and stockings. They remove your heels, (I have given them a key), and lace on a pair of ankle ballet boots, which also have locks, just like the ones the other woman has on. 

She is released, and a man comes in and carries her out of the room, and you are put into the lacing bar, where another inch is taken off your waist. One of the dommes, slips on a rubber glove, and using KY Jelly greases up your puss, and upon removing the butt plug you always wear for me, adds more lubrication to your nether hole. The man who took the other woman away, returns, and scoops you up in his arms, and takes you into a larger room. The other woman is now suspended from a lacing bar. Large rings pierce her nipples, and she smiles at you as you are placed in front of her. 

You have trouble with your balance, but your wrists are then attached to the bar that holds the other woman up and now your toes just meet the ground. You are now pressed hard against her, and a double dildo gag is strapped first into her mouth, and then the other end enters your lips and a strap holds you close to her, it is almost as if you are kissing her. Both straps are tightened, and the head of the dildoes is forced into the beginning of your throats. Nipple clips are attached to your nipples and tightened, and the connecting chain is run through her rings, holding your breasts close to hers. A strap is run around each of your upper thighs, just below your crotch, and your thighs are mashed against hers, and it seems as though your clits can almost touch. 

The chain fall that holds the lacing bar is now lifted, bringing both of you about 2 feet off the floor, and a pole is placed in the receptacle in the floor just beneath you. The man, who brought you in, now displays a double dildo, to you, with an attachment meant to be placed on the metal pole between your legs. You and your partner's eyes open wide at the sight, for each end is about 9 inches long and about 2 inches in diameter, and there is a small probe of about 3 inches in length in the center. Straps are placed around your ankles, holding your ballet boot encased feet tightly against hers, and ropes are attached, and your legs are drawn apart as one. The dildo is attached to the pole, and two women spread each of your cunts to admit the dildoes as you are lowered on to them. 

Once you are completely filled, your ankles are released from the ropes, allowing you both to balance somewhat on your heels, and your clits are held tight to the mysterious center probe. A short minute later, the probe is no longer a mystery, as it begins to vibrate, and your eyes go wide and then shut tightly at the sensation. Two men enter the room, one of whom is a transvestite that you had the pleasure of buggering with a pair of dildo panties on just a month ago at a similar meeting. He smiles at you and glancing at his hard-on you now realize why your bum was lubed, and you twist in your bondage to no avail, as he and his companion take their places behind the two of you. Filled with the dildoes, each of your asses is very tight to the cocks now slowly slithering into your most private places, pressing your clits harder into the vibrating probe. They begin to thrust, the one servicing you also rotating his ass to give you maximum benefit. The sensations are overwhelming, and after about 5 minutes of this, you both cum violently, as the men fill your asses with their cum, leaving your asses dripping.

After a suitable interval, you are both released, and taken to a long table. The other woman, who gave you a lascivious smile, is placed on the table with her head hanging over the end, and a double-headed dildo is placed in her ass and cunt, you immediately see where this is leading. You are placed at the opposite end, as her legs are stretched up and apart to a bar with suspension cuffs. You are scooted onto the opposite ends of the double dildoes protruding from her orifices, and likewise impaled, your legs then stretched up to reside alongside hers in a "V", and fastened to the same bar. Now you are handcuffed, your wrist to hers on each side, and you instinctively grasp her hands, your fingers interlaced with hers, to avoid the bite of the metal. Straps are added to your upper thighs and hers, pulling you closer to her, your ass and cunt almost welded to hers. You both begin to wiggle, first for comfort, and then through arousal. Tweezer-clips are attached to each of your nipples, and secured to the table via small chains, to keep the two of you from attempting to rise off the table.

Everything having been arranged to our satisfaction, two lines are formed at each end of the table, each a mix of males and females. I add one further refinement, a short gold chain with a clasp at both ends, attaching it to your clit hood ring, and slightly stretching it, attach the other end to hers. Your ordeal now begins. First two males enter your mouths and begin to fuck your faces, as one cums, a fresh-fucked cunt replaces him, begging for cleaning by your tongues. The double dildo vibrators are now activated, causing each of you to jump, pulling on the chain connecting your clits together, as the next two men enter your mouths. This continues as before until the end of the lines are reached. I have abstained, waiting and enjoying the view of the two of you twitching at your ass and cunt connection, for there is one more sequence to follow.

Until you are released, you had thought of the septum piercing I had insisted you get a month or so ago, as ornamental, and sometimes useful as an anchoring point for a jewelry chain lead that I sometimes use a tether, when I want you to stay in one place. Your companion for the evening is released, her ballet boots removed, replaced by her pumps, and she walks a bit unsteadily to a nearby stuffed chair, where she sits with her butt on the edge of the cushion. You are released from the table, and the handcuffs are used to bind your wrists together, and the other pair, your elbows. I then lower you from the table, to your knees, and attach the lead to your septum piercing. I walk towards your companion in lust in the chair, you shuffle on your knees to keep up, and I hand the lead to the woman in the chair. She gives you a cat-that-swallowed-the-canary grin, and passes the lead through her clit ring, and slowly begins to reel you in. 

She asks you, "Did you enjoy my little scenario dear? I have lusted for you since I first saw you, and now I am going to have you!" Your eyes flash wide, and you try to turn towards me, only catching a glimpse or my smile, before the lead is tensioned, drawing you inexorably toward this evening's destination. Finally, the rings meet, and she simply says, "eat!" You stick your tongue out, and proceed to feast, and I at last unsheathe my sword and enter your juicy cunt, forcing you further into her sex. I fuck you thus for about ten minutes, when, properly lubricated, I force myself into your lovely ass. I can feel your appreciation as you use your muscles to massage me as I rock back and forth in you, and at last, as your companion shrieks through her second orgasm from your oral service, you tighten in your own and milk my cock until it is drained.

A pleasurable evening for all, I clean your face with my tongue, having released you, boots, handcuffs and all, and lead you out with my arm tightly about you to our car.



A Dilemma



I was about to come out with some feeble remark or other, but I mentally toughened my stance and decided that attack was a better form of defence. 

Adopting a more adversarial approach therefore, I determined to reprimand him, rather than let him embarrass me further.

"Well, first let's go back a bit further than just the other night Michael. You and I both know that you've been pretty provocative towards me in front of all your mates - in fact, so provocative that on more than one occasion I've even felt quite embarrassed by it and had the feeling that perhaps you were trying to show me up for some reason."

To my surprise, the smile left his face and adopting a rueful look, he appeared slightly shameful, 

"Yeah, that's true actually . . . . . guess I hadn't looked at it that way before . . . . you know, showing you up and all . . . . but yes, I can see your point. I'm really sorry Tom, I didn't mean to embarrass you."

Still staring straight into my eyes though, he relentlessly continued but not before the knowing grin returned to his face,

"Anyway Tom. . . . . . . you were about to say something more . . .?"

Once again his response put me off my stroke for a few seconds but pulling myself together, I carried on in the same reprimanding tone,

"The trouble is Michael, you always seem to do it in front of your mates and I ..."

"Oh, I see. So you'd rather I did it when they're not around then would you Tom . . . . only when it's just you and me?" 

His tone was conspiratorially bantering, and it heightened my confusion. I was constantly being thrown me off my course . . . . yet underneath it all, I think that secretly, perhaps I wanted to agree with his last suggestion that maybe he should actually continue doing it . . . . but only when nobody else was around! 

Instead, I said,

"That's not the point and you know it Michael. You've been up to a lot of things for well over two years now and while I didn't think about any of it too much at first, you've been so persistent that I found it was beginning to affect me.

"Then Roy told me one evening that he'd caught your hand playing about outside my jeans when I was asleep and he'd stopped you. I believe that's true?"

"Yees . . . . . .?" he replied slowly, still with the same grin. I was surprised how easily he unashamedly confirmed what I said.

On a whim, I thought I'd extend the truth a little, to see if there was anything more,

"Well . . . . and then on another occasion, I understand you actually undid not just my zip but also my jeans and had your hand inside about to explore my crotch before someone said something about taking advantage of me while I was asleep?"

I didn't actually know about any such other situation. I'd invented it and thought I'd use the myth to test his reaction. His silence though, told me I'd actually hit a nail very hard on its head,

"Well?" I said.

"Yeah, I know - sorry 'bout that! Pete came in just as I was about to . . . . " 

He giggled slightly and looked just a trifle embarrassed but certainly not in any way contrite, despite his words.

So I'd been right about my 'speculative' incident and here was Michael not making the slightest effort to deny it. I didn't know how to address that particular one so I went on rather lamely - trying to inject a note of levity into the situation before the conversation got completely out of my control,

"Yes indeed. I think we both know what you were about to do Michael! But setting aside that particular instance, I reckon it's time you stopped and thought about the effect your unremitting provocation has been having on me. I may be an ageing womanising sex maniac but I emphasise the 'womanising' bit and in that respect, I've got a reputation to consider you know!"

His response was immediate and archly provocative,

"I see Tom . . . . so I've been having an effect on you have I? Well now, that's very interesting Tom because I think that maybe after all, you . ..."

I didn't give him a chance to go on,

"Effect or not mate, that's as far as I'm going with this particular conversation at the moment, because I don't think further discussion will get us anywhere? I think it's best if we call it a day and go off to bed now Michael and I'm sure you agree!"

Again he responded archly with no delay,

"Agree about what Tom . . . . . about our conversation, or your going off to bed? Either way, you still haven't fully answered my question yet. I thought you were going on to explain more about that night when you came into the sitting room while I was in on the sofa and you . . . . "

This was no good. Here he was, a teenager - directing the course of the conversation. He obviously intended to continue his persistence, so in an effort to finally end any further discussion of the subject, I said purposefully,

"Can't help that Michael, it'll just have to wait for another time . . . . if at all. It's getting far too late now and I'm going to bed whether you like it or not old lad. 

"You should be alright here on the sofa . . . . let's face it, your lot all sleep on it often enough, so you should be used to it. Help yourself if you want another cover - you know where they all are and where everything else is if you need anything. 'Night Michael, sleep tight."

Without giving him a chance to argue, I went off to my bedroom, undressed and climbed into bed . . . . . . . . . . . where I then lay with my eyes tightly shut for ages.

I was completely unable to sleep for want of the myriad of thoughts and questions which were now rushing through my confused mind as a result of our conversation and of my recalling what I'd done that night and how much I'd really enjoyed playing with his naked cock - so many doubts though . . . . and questions also - all of them swirling around in my head like an out of control torrent. 

The prime question was of course, what the hell was actually going on here? 

Here was me, a separated mature parent of three kids, with an ex-wife and probably more years lying behind me than ahead. Not only that but I was also one of that happy band of blokes whose teenage years and early twenties had been peppered more times than we cared to mention with threats from irate fathers who, often notwithstanding frequent family friendships, had been hopelessly unsuccessful in locking away their daughters from our dogged attentions. 

I'd started early and had continued in my role as a very enthusiastic womanising youth, with an extremely healthy appetite for relationships and fruitful beddings with a series of very pretty girls. They'd always been my primary occupation, almost to the exclusion of all else and given my advancing years, that situation still prevailed - I might be middle-aged now but there was still plenty of life left for the ladies!

Yet there was Michael - a nineteen year old youth - an apparently self-confessed bi-sexual teenager who, if my thoughts were correct, seemed to be having a strong effect on me. He'd seemed intent on investigating my body at every opportunity when I was asleep . . . . yet I'd done next to nothing by way of reprimanding him for his outrageous behaviour. 

Nor, it appeared, had I exhibited any outward reaction at all against his increasing invasions of my space.

In the normal course of events it would have been understandable if I'd hit the roof when I discovered what he'd been up to while I slept. Yet nothing had been done or said until this evening.

Furthermore, and apart from the odd laughing 'Oh just fuck off Michael', I'd done nothing either, to discourage his increasing familiarity with me in front of his peers. 

It was only now, as I started to think deeply about what had been happening over the last couple of years that I realised the growing effect his behaviour really had been having on me. He was perceptive lad and it had been way too long before I'd even begun to understand just how perceptive he might have been in his reading of me. 

He'd obviously known exactly what was going on from the very word go. Most of his provocations had been overtly sexual - even if they'd been presented under the guise of banter - and like an idiot, I'd not recognised them. In fact, my reticence to remonstrate had probably served to encourage him. 

Did then my lack of remonstration indicate that I sub-consciously enjoyed his seemingly endless provocations?

Was I perhaps on the turn?

Or was I undergoing a delayed orientation crisis . . . . merely a late maturing bisexuality perhaps?

If so, were my seeming feelings just a brief aberration . . . . something transient - a kind of temporary diversion from what had hitherto always been a wholly hetero lifestyle? Or were they something more; and if any of this were the case, would they become a permanency?

My generation had been brainwashed and heavily influenced by the homophobic culture of our time. Except with a few known homosexuals, it had always been a prerequisite that we should all revile the slightest hint of same sex behaviour, let alone react positively to advances from others - or worse still, to actually act on them.

Yet here had been I - undeniably deriving a sexual thrill from fondling another guy's cock. Did this therefore mean that my initial intention that night never had been one solely of revenge but of something deeper? 

I knew that I'd really enjoyed the feel of his cock and if I were to be honest, the thought of doing it again excited me. But exactly how far did I want it all to go?

I thought about the other possibilities and was instantly turned off at thought of any anal penetration - I'd experimented with that a few times with girls and found it was not my favourite past-time. Since then, I'd only indulged it because various ladies of the time enjoyed it and really, who was I to deprive them of pleasure, particularly when their enthusiastic response worked so well in my favour with other activities! 

The main exception to my lack of interest in anal had been when one of my girl-friends had gently insinuated first one finger and then two into my butt during a blow job once. The exquisite sensation which resulted from the combination of her tongue movement around my cock and her fingers massaging my prostate had me hooked on that particular receiving element of it for ever.

On another tack, the thought of kissing another guy held no delight for me either. 

However, looking back, I remembered an instance when I'd been kissed in the dark many times under the mistletoe at the Christmas party. I'd always laughingly gone along with it, for some of the girls really were very attractive with lovely bodies. Just this one time though, I'd had a teeny doubt when an open mouth had sent a prying tongue into my mouth and excited me - but I'd dismissed my doubt and just assumed it must have been one of the girls, because the face was so soft. 

Later on in the kitchen and in front of everybody, Michael had laughingly asked me if I'd enjoyed my 'Mistletoe kiss earlier' and at the time I'd thought no more about it, other than he must have seen what was going on. 

On reflection now though, I realised that because he'd still had very little need to shave much at the time, it might well have been his soft face which had pressed against me and kissed my lips with open mouth and tongue out. 

Strangely enough, the thought of it perhaps being Michael didn't seem quite so bad now. Again, what the fuck was happening here?

I knew I'd always had a soft spot for him, largely because he'd forever gone out of his way to be helpful around the place and was generally well mannered - almost a rarity in his generation. But did I now feel perhaps my liking for him was trifle more than I would at first have imagined? 

But then again, was I reading too much into all this, making a mountain out of a molehill - building up something in my mind which really didn't matter in the general scheme of life?

As I thought further about what had motivated me to take the recklessly fraught step of exploring him physically, I accepted that I had really wanted to explore his body further . . . . and that was a physical lust - but it wasn't just that. 

One of my kids had once pointed out that I would always let Michael get away with anything and as I reflected further, I realised that he'd been right. I now understood that I was in fact not just rather fond of Michael. My feelings were much stronger; certainly nothing like conventional love but definitely something more positive than mere liking. It must be . . . . sex? But did I really want a sexual relationship with another guy, let alone one so much younger than me? 

On further analysis, my thoughts were now leading to a strong wish for some reason, that I could make him feel really good physically - by whatever means I wasn't sure. It could be by massage or, as was more likely, by playing with his cock and masturbating him. 

In effect, it appeared that any satisfaction of my own lust was now becoming secondary to my recognising a growing wish to give him sexual pleasure. I felt at once, both lustful and protective.

So was I just the victim of my generation's conventions, in that I'd hitherto suppressed hidden feelings and been too inhibited to either realise or act upon them? Or was I simply over-reacting to what had been nothing more than a brief whim?

Then why was I still feeling this way about a young man, however more mature he was than his peers. Surely the old womaniser in me should have been more likely to succumb to one of the very attractive teenaged girls in my kids' friendship group - and yes, I had often wanted to succumb! Heaven knew, I'd had enough provocation from one or two of them over the years as well - but as the adult, I'd always avoided letting myself become involved with any of them. Sometimes this had been hard to do - particularly with the precocious ones who'd offered serious temptation when they came on to me; but I'd always managed to resist. 

So why was it so different with Michael and why apparently, did the same generational rule not apply to him?

What was it all about? What the hell indeed, was actually going on here? 

The inescapable question as I saw it was to discover whether my feelings were merely a transient thing brought on by his provocation - a kind of temporary diversion from an otherwise totally heterosexual life - or something a deal more solid . . . . . or finally, was it all indeed, just my imagination? 

For a good hour or so, I tried to resist vestigial repressions in an effort to identify my true feelings; but I sensed there was something missing in my understanding and I needed help if I were to reach a convincing conclusion. 

Whether I liked the thought of it or not, I had to admit that Michael's professed bi-sexuality indicated that he probably had a far better understanding of these things - certainly he appeared more at ease with himself than did I. Moreover, I needed to know whether he'd sensed something in my make-up that I'd never been aware of myself. Perhaps then, it was now time that I should reverse our previous position by asking him for advice. 

So I needed to talk further with him; but openly this time, without hiding behind any excuse for what had happened that night. Furthermore, we needed to bring out into the open, what he'd been up to when provoking me during the two previous years. 

I thus determined to grasp the nettle and re-open our earlier conversation at some stage very soon. I decided in fact, to do it the following morning before dropping him back to his home. 

Having made a decision, I climbed out of my bed to go for a final pee before trying to sleep and on my way, I noticed under the door that the living room light was still burning. 

In case he'd maybe gone to sleep without turning it off, I quietly called out to see whether he was still awake and was surprised to receive an immediate, albeit sleepy response,

"Yeah, I'm still awake Tom . . . . for some reason I seem to be having trouble getting myself off." 

He giggled quietly - but I ignored the innuendo and just asked him if he fancied a cup of tea.

"Not really thanks Tom, I'm not particularly in the mood for a cup of anything at the moment . . . . . but I wouldn't say no to chatting for a bit if you're up for it, perhaps with a joint if you've got any gange in the house?"

I felt the fates had decided for me and duly said I'd be up for that and would be back in a minute. Returning briefly to my bedroom, I picked up the makings for a spliff, went back into the sitting room and after sitting down in the armchair at the end of the sofa, I started to roll it, waffling on nervously as I did so.

I vaguely noticed his jeans and boxers folded beside his makeshift bed but didn't pay any significance to the little pile - my son's friends always slept in at least their boxers and usually their jeans as well when staying over, so I was used to seeing all manner of clothes lying haphazardly around the room whenever they did so. 

As I rolled the joint I started waffling about everything but the point in question. Various sentences inanely tumbled from my lips but I didn't realise just how badly until he stopped me with a laugh, saying intuitively,

"What's really on your mind Tom? At the moment, you sound like you're talking bollocks, so I assume you're actually dwelling on what we never finished discussing earlier?"

I felt myself colour up immediately and despite my decision to re-open our conversation, he was the one who'd gone straight for what he instinctively knew was on my mind - definitely very perceptive indeed was that young man. 

I endeavoured to regain the initiative by saying that in answer to his earlier question, I now wanted to clarify the events of 'that night'. I explained that what I'd been up to was really just a revenge for what I understood he'd done to me a couple of times previously when I'd been asleep. 

I told him that I'd actually started by looking for my lighter which I thought might have fallen out on the sofa under his bedding. However, when I was about to do so, I'd had the evil thought of taking a photo of his dick by way of revenge for his previous crime and I'd gone back to my room for a digicam before starting my search. 

But . . . . when reaching under the duvet to lift the top of his boxers for the picture, I found myself becoming a little carried away and couldn't help exploring what I found there. Then, when I'd felt his hand move and maybe accidentally touch me, I thought he was waking up, so I just shot off to bed in panic before I was discovered. 

I purposely left out how excited I'd become when playing with his cock.

He'd grinned sheepishly when I mentioned his own previous behaviour and referred back to it by offering,

"Ah, fair enough then about what I was caught doing while you were asleep, I suppose I deserved the revenge bit." 

Then, with an insight I myself hadn't properly recognised, he added very quietly,

"You say you were originally looking for your lighter . . . . . . . but was that really the only reason Tom?"

I ignored his question and went on to say that he needn't worry, for despite his own provocations, my own episode had been absolutely a one-off aberration and would not ever happen again. 

He thought for a couple of seconds and with a wry grin on his face, replied with a softly spoken but knowingly hopeful question, 

"Are you absolutely certain of that Tom?" 

Ignoring the fact that he'd asked me the perfect question for me to pursue what I'd decided earlier, I reacted without thinking and immediately assured him that he could count on it. There wasn't a snowball in hell's chance of it ever happening again, I emphasised. I told him that the least said, soonest mended, and I didn't want anyone to know about it, particularly my kids. 




A Dilemma



"Why not Tom? His grin had disappeared and he looked genuinely rather puzzled

I realised that maybe he'd sought and expected a different answer to his original question but so keen was I now to end my embarrassment by closing the subject once more, that I had no ear for such subtleties.

"I just don't Michael. It was a moment of madness when I was drunk as a skunk and I'd rather nobody knew about it, least of all the kids. Please respect that."

Yet he persisted,

"But you've got no reason to be ashamed of anything Tom. Don't you think they're old enough to understand? If that was the way you felt at the time, then that was the way you felt; and let's face it, we were both pretty pissed at the time and one does strange things when pissed. Either way, there's no reason to feel ashamed or embarrassed, I'm certain they couldn't care less about it - they just want their dad to be happy." 

The last remark sounded like me talking about my kids and once again, he was demonstrating more maturity than I was feeling. It also appeared that he'd taken my answers as confirmation of whatever it was he thought about my orientation.

"Well I'm not proud of myself Michael and don't really know what came over me, I guess it was just because I was plastered; but I'd still rather forget it ever happened and I don't want anyone else to know about it."

Hardly pausing for thought, Michael's suggestion in response was both quick and to the point,

"That's a shame . . . . 'cos I don't want to forget it ever happened . . . . why should we forget something that I think we both enjoyed?"

His directness staggered me and I was still thinking about a response to that when he went on, 

The thing is Tom, have you ever thought . . . . er . . . . that it might have been 'in vino veritas'? You know . . . . . that it was something you subconsciously fancied doing and found that being pissed-up was the perfect excuse for having done it?"

What he was suggesting was perhaps a little too close to the possibility that I'd been considering myself, yet it seemed I still wasn't opening up to him as I'd promised myself to do.

The conversation thus died un-answered at that stage, as the smoke from the joint began to take its euphoric effect on both of us.

Indeed, it was only after we'd finished smoking and both been lying back in the inevitable silent post-joint contemplation, that I properly reflected on his intuitive questions; and at last began to let my mind honestly examine my actions and reactions. Eventually, I ventured the question, 

"What you were saying earlier about 'in vino veritas' Michael, what sort of 'veritas' were you getting at?" 

I knew the answer but I wanted him to provide me with an 'in' to ask him more about it. I felt like a nervous child which knew it should have been able to work things out for itself but needed reassurance.

"Well . . . it's a bit difficult to describe really - what with your having been so adamant about it never happening again . . . . . Look, maybe I was wrong."

"How do you mean 'wrong'? "

He looked over at the table and indicated the remains of the joint.

"Is there any chance of our having another one of those Tom? I find they loosen the tongue and inhibitions . . . . and just at the moment I think that's what I need before we go much further . . . ."

"I guess we both do actually mate. I think the time's come for both of us to talk a little more openly and honestly about things and for my part, I want to identify and clarify what actually is on my mind - and I think I might need your help to do it."  

I set about rolling the spliff and as I did so, I continued,

"Let me make a start while I roll this. As you say, perhaps another smoke might lubricate our tongues a bit! Otherwise, I suspect we're just going to beat about the bush all night. I went on, 

"Now, you've always confessed to being bi Michael - that's right isn't it?"

"Well yeah . . . ." he drawled - but then with almost indecent haste, "But of the two, I prefer women."

His response sounded vaguely defensive, as if he weren't fully convinced in what he was saying.

"OK, understood. But from what I've heard, you probably not only understand, but can explain more about any sort of bi elements of what I mean. I'm like a fucking novice at that game and I need some help . . . but only if you swear this conversation goes no further than between us two?" 

I'd tried to introduce a little levity; but like a job interview applicant, I was nervously trying to think what exactly I wanted to say without committing myself too far and too early in a wrong direction. 

He emphatically confirmed,

"Trust me Tom, I promise you that absolutely nothing will go beyond us and this room."

I took a discernable deep breath and started with a statement.

"To put it mildly, you've been pretty sexually provocative towards me just lately. Not only have your remarks frequently been loaded with embarrassing innuendo but you've always publicly insisted on sitting next to me whether inside the house or out in the garden."

"Fair comment." This time there was no flippant response. He was taking what I said seriously and it encouraged me to go further,

"And then, on top of all that, there've been at least two incidents when you've been caught exploring my body when I was asleep. I say 'at least', because they're the only two I know about and only then, because others have told me about them. Or do you deny any of that?"

"No . . . . I don't deny it . . . . no point really, I've already admitted most of it. But yes, since you're suggesting we're both going to be completely honest and open, then yes, I'd better come clean and tell you there were a couple of other occasions you may not know about ..."

He didn't elaborate at first and his ensuing look seemed to invite my further enquiry, so I said lamely,

"Ah, I see. And what were those other incidents Michael - and why did they occur?"

A long silence ensued and I was just about to light the joint when he eventually responded. It came out in a rush,

"One of them was when I took a couple of photos of what's inside your jeans and the other was when I actually did explore your crotch when nobody else was about . . . and I had a really good play with your dick. You started getting hard when I reached under to play with your balls and I was really beginning to enjoy myself but I think you might have been too drunk and what I was doing had less and less effect until your penis eventually went down . . .! I wanted to suck you to make your cock hard again but you were lying at too odd an angle, so I reluctantly gave up!"

He really coloured up then and looked incredibly embarrassed . . . yet also, I thought, a little excited . . . but also worried, presumably lest my response might be negative. It wasn't. I just said nothing for a moment, because the way he'd referred to my 'penis' had sent an unexpected frisson of excitement through me.

In growing nervousness, I tried to brush over the matter with an inane response,

"Oh, I see." But I felt I too must be colouring up.

We smoked companionably for a few minutes and when I took the joint back, I went on with gange-fuelled confidence,

"Well you see Michael, the thing is that if I'm also going to be equally honest and open, your behaviour has in fact been having an effect on me and one which I don't readily recognise."

I cleared my throat and handing the joint back to him, went on,

"I've been what could be described as a bit of a whoremonger all my life and I've always been heavily into women - so it's come as a bit of a shock to accept that your continual provocation seems to have aroused in me a side which I'd never in my wildest dreams have known existed."

Almost there, I thought. Could I get the rest of it out though? I needn't have worried, for Michael provided me with not just understanding but also the opening to go on.

"I know what you're talking about Tom, so don't worry by telling me more unless you feel you have to . . . . I think I recognise in you a great deal more than you may perhaps understand about yourself . . . . and please don't take it as me trying to be presumptuous in saying that. It's rather nice really and I'm glad I wasn't wrong all that time ago. I think you just needed time to come to terms with it and it sounds as if that's what you've now done."

I glanced at him with a questioning look,

"OK then Michael. I'll accept that maybe you're right in what you think, so I'll come straight with you about things . . . but I repeat that I really want this to remain absolutely between ourselves. Is that understood and agreed?"

"Absolutely Tom, I swear it won't go beyond this room."

"Well as I said, your behaviour has been having a growing effect on me. You must have noticed it in the way I've let you get away with things which I would never allow in others.

"Basically, I think you realise I have a great affection for you and you've probably realised better than I that it's not just the kind of paternal affection I have for most of your mates who come here. I greatly enjoy the many conversations we have - to be honest, you're a pretty well-informed conversationalist and we cover a great many topics. Not only that but I've noticed you always pull your weight around the house, particularly when it comes to clearing up after parties. More to the point in this context though is that I now recognise whatever affection I may have, it seems to have sexual connotations as well - which is probably why I didn't react with outrage whenever you've found excuses to 'accidentally' touch me. It's also why I didn't go bananas when I found out about the other 'events' when I've been asleep."

"Yes, I can see that Tom and I'm glad you want to bring it out into the open for discussion. Please don't be embarrassed to talk about it. I'm not going to say anything to anyone else, believe me. It's just that, as I just said, I've always felt maybe it's time you were honest with yourself."

I digested what he'd said for two or three minutes while I finished the joint and he made no further move to rush me. He just lay there with a gentle smile on his face and waited for me to go on.

I remembered something and changed the subject slightly,

"D'you know Michael, I saw you pulling your jeans up one of your legs one morning after a party just recently and couldn't help noticing that your old man had slipped down the other leg of your boxers. You seemed to take a hell of a long time lifting the other leg into your jeans - almost as if you knew I could see . . . . and boy, could I see absolutely everything! For some reason I couldn't stop myself looking and if I'm honest, I was actually a bit disappointed when you eventually stood to pull your jeans up the other leg and my view ended." 

Did I really say that?

He replied very quietly, "And if you remember Tom, the night before when some of the girls were talking about what they had on underneath their jeans, I made a point of saying that I'd got a very baggy pair of boxers under mine and that my old man kept falling down one leg of them. Draw your own conclusions about why I should have said that Tom . . . . but I thought I saw you having a good look. I was even very tempted to just sit there and let you view me for as long as I wanted . . . . at your leisure!" He chuckled gently and said, "I wish I had now. It might have brought things on a lot earlier."

He went on,

"You may as well know that all this started a while back when you brought early morning tea in for some of us one day after a party. I was lying on my side on this very sofa and when you bent down to put my mug on the table in front of me, the fly on your boxers opened enough for me to see your penis about a foot from my face." 

I felt another frisson at the way he said 'penis'. 

"Then, because I also love cock as well as women, I'd often wondered what you'd got in there and suddenly, there it was! Anyway, and what with seeing it so close . . . . well, you know about me being bi and all . . . . it . . . . er, it just turned me on something rotten and - and I got a hard on straight away. I remember hoping you might have stood like that on purpose so's I could have a good view?"

I had no recollection of the incident, so it had most definitely not been done on purpose. I didn't quite know what to say in response and although surprised, I was not shocked. Instead I felt a twinge of excitement at realising just how long he'd been feeling like this about me. I also felt a little more than flattered that I should be sexually attractive to one of his age. 

I sat there thinking for a few more moments while considering my next remark. As I did so, my eyes roved aimlessly around the room and eventually alighted on the pile of his clothes beside the sofa. With a start I noted this time, what I hadn't noticed before - that his boxers were topping the pile.

Without thinking what my question might lead to, I asked in full innocence,

"Are those your boxers down there Michael?"

He lethargically looked at the pile and as its significance dawned on him, he slowly drawled,

"Yeah. . . . ." a momentary silence, then he went on with an innocent grin, ". . . . why do you ask?"

"Oh, it's nothing really, just that I thought you lot always slept in at least your boxers, if not your jeans as well, or if you're Pete, even fully-clothed."

Another thoughtful silence. Then, 

"Yeah . . . . well I do usually wear just boxers," he replied, before repeating with emphasis, ". . . . usually."

"Oh, I see."

"Do you . . . . . . really?"

"Well yeah . . . " I suddenly clicked what he was getting at and despite the gange, I felt myself colour up at the realisation. 

"I mean . . . . erm . . . . look, I don't really know what I meant actually. I was just passing the time and trying to keep the conversation going." 

A weak response I realised; and then thought to myself - fuck it, why not just come out with what I now meant?

"So . . . . I suppose that means you've got nothing on under that duvet?"

"Yeah . . . . ." He lazily replied but with confidence. He stared at me for a moment or two, as if challenging me to go further. He then said very slowly in a quiet, almost confidential tone, 

"I'm naked as you like under there Tom." He nodded down at the duvet and I felt a sexual rush.

This time I wasn't going to let him win and raising my glance to stare straight into his eyes, I heard myself say equally quietly but in bantering fashion, 

"Naked as I like then are you? Now that's an interesting statement to make Michael boy . . . . . naked as I like eh? What makes you think there's any way I'd like you to be naked under there then Michael?" I emphasised the 'I' throughout.

As I gained confidence in my speech, so surprisingly, did he also seem to redden in obvious arousal. Like me, his voice was slightly shaky now and what he said next came out in similar mode,

"Why do you er, . . . say it like that then . . . . er, Tom?"

With growing confidence now I'd made a decision, I continued banteringly,

"Well, I was just wondering why you'd say 'naked as you like'. I repeat, what makes you think, I'd enjoy your being 'naked as I like' then Michael?"

He made no reply and just lay there on the sofa, staring at me . . . but I could see that he was beginning to tremble now. He was definitely as aroused as I was. 

"Well now Michael, here's a thing - I never thought for a moment that I'd ever hear myself saying something like this to anyone other than a woman but perhaps . . . . . well, you never know . . . perhaps, I might just like it."

To him, the previous victim of his banter must now seem to be turning into the predator and I could see he was actually enjoying this reversal of roles. He was excited by it and his eventual response confirmed it, because this time he sounded almost defensive,

"I don't know really. It was just a figure of speech. I mean . . . " 

I stared even harder at him and half closed my eyes. I was committed now, whether or not I might later wish that I hadn't been.

"As I said just now, perhaps I do like it Michael . . . perhaps I really would like to see you naked. You know, with everything you have purposely exposed for me so I can have a really good look at you at last. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I realise that actually is what I want to see. So what would you think of that then?"

I went on without waiting for an answer,

"Well, there's only one way for me to prove what I'm saying, isn't there? We have to put it to the test and you'll have to lift that duvet and show me now Michael . . . you know, prove to me that you're what you say you are - completely naked . . . or perhaps you're too shy to back up your provocation?" 

Without moving my stare from his eyes, I indicated the sofa with my right hand and gestured in a raising motion.

"Just lift the duvet Michael and show me how naked you are . . . . let's face it matey, you apparently saw everything I've got and even took photos! But in your case you did it without me knowing didn't you? Now I want you to return the compliment but with one difference - you'll know what's going on and you'll be aware of doing it . . . . in fact you'll actually be offering your cock to me - knowingly and willingly!" 

My heart was beating increasingly fast now and I sensed rather than saw the shake in my pointing hand. I now really did want to see what I'd fondled but never yet seen and my inhibitions had fled in light of my fast growing arousal.

"Are you . . . . are you absolutely sure about this Tom?" 

He enunciated the words slowly and hesitantly, as if he was wary of what would be my answer . . . or perhaps, hopeful.

I said nothing for a few moments, just carried on staring directly at his eyes. 

Then I responded huskily,

"Yes Michael . . . . but please do it before I wake up to what I'm saying and walk away from the lasciviously evil thoughts going through my mind . . . " 

Hardly daring to breathe, I almost whispered, 

"Let's face it Michael, we both know I've fondled you . . . . now I want to have a good uninterrupted look at what it is that I really loved feeling that night. Go on, please just lift up the duvet and let me see everything you've got under it."

With neither of us diverting our stares from the other's eyes, I sensed his hand move slightly through my peripheral vision. It hesitated for a moment and then, as if in final surrender, reached out to a corner of the duvet and shakily raised it sufficiently to show he was totally naked beneath. Visibly shaking now, he dropped the duvet behind him and lay there half on his side, with everything exposed for me. He wanted me to look.

I broke my gaze from his now heavily blushing face and let it slowly run down to scan the spreading flush of his neck and shoulders, before looking at his still developing young body. I took in every detail of his nipples and the tight stomach muscles below, before my gaze slid down to fixate on the fork of his legs and I drank in the sight of his beautiful penis surrounded by a small mat of soft dark brown hair and his balls nestling beneath. 

The now visibly enlarging shaft slipped down to rest the long foreskin that I'd felt that night across his left upper thigh and I was transfixed with lust. The hypnotic vision of that pink, almost pale purple glans thrusting its way out from his foreskin was sexy beyond belief and my cock twitched in my jeans at the sight. 

At that particular moment I recognised that I was every bit as turned on by sight of his beautiful naked body and its delicious appendage, as I am by sight of a naked woman and the promise of her body - no more but certainly, no less at this stage. 

Without the side-show of partial clothing, the erotic allure of speculating what might be underneath tends to be absent in favour of pure aesthetic appreciation. Thus Michael's complete nudity allowed my eyes to appreciate the beauty of his form, just as the complete nudity of a woman allows my mind to consume and appreciate her unfettered loveliness - no immediate distractions, just simple aesthetic appreciation. 




A Dilemma



It is only when the mind speculates further on what delights that body may offer, that lust begins its ascent and encourages a more detailed study of what is on offer in pursuit of more physical pleasures.

My eyes couldn't move away from the sight of his incredibly smooth cock as, fascinated, I watched it gradually extending to reveal the rest of his large head which was now emerging sexily from the loose flap of his long foreskin. I was completely mesmerised by the delicious smoothness of his shaft . . . no protruding veins, just their gentle outline lying in soft ridges beneath the pale skin of his now gently throbbing penis.

He'd begun to breathe a little faster now and the deepening flush to his face and upper body evidenced the sexual excitement he was feeling at voluntarily exposing his every intimacy to my excited gaze. He knew the effect it was having on me and as I realised this myself, my own cock hardened even more uncomfortably in my jeans.

"Oh hell Michael, that's really the most enticing sight. I just can't believe I'm about to say this . . . . but you truly have got the most gorgeous little cock . . . . . it's absolutely beautiful." 

It was out now. I'd said it and both of us knew where this was going. I was in thrall to the erotic sight of what he had between his legs and I couldn't take my eyes of its now full and gently pulsating tumescence.

He was breathing very shallow but fast now and as he continued gazing at my eyes, as if frightened of looking down to witness the proof of his own arousal, he asked very quietly,

"Is that what you really mean Tom, or are you just saying that to wind me up? You trying to tell me that you honestly, er . . . . . despite your always liking women?" 

He reached down and moved his erection, fondled it for a moment and then let it slide gently down again where it lay as if in offering. I was fascinated by the eroticism. I drawled very slowly,

"I told you earlier Michael . . . . I've been in love with the ladies all my life and a serial womaniser for as long as I can remember. Yet here I am now, for the first time since us kids played around in the dormitory at school, I've got a fucking great hard on at the sight of another bloke's cock and I want to touch it again! What the fuck's happening to me here? I've heard about your sexual predilections, you must know. You understand it. You tell me, what the fuck is happening to me here?"

He lowered his gaze from my eyes and looked down at his cock, now gently leaking a little drop of pre-cum from its end. He brushed it away with the back of his hand and let his penis drop back onto his thigh, where it lay softly throbbing in time with his heartbeat. I couldn't take my eyes off this amazingly sexy intimacy now - and as his legs spread wantonly apart as if in further offering, he flushed up and I understood that for him, his provocation had at last proved entirely successful. 

"I'll tell you something Michael - and I still can't believe what I'm feeling at the moment - like I said just now, all your provocation over the last months seems to have woken in me something which I never even dreamed could possibly be there . . . . I think you've aroused a bi side in me - and please do believe what I say . . . . there's nobody more surprised about it than me.

There are so many things rushing through my mind at the moment . . . . all the things I want to do to you. In case it's relevant, I have to say that I'm not even remotely interested in anal play and so forth but I think I do really want to explore my other thoughts and see what happens."

I felt like an innocent abroad, totally lost and seemingly in the grip of something over which I had no control and I went on,

"You're the one who seemingly professes to be bi, so can you explain it to me Michael - is that what's happening to me - am I really becoming bi as well?"

He didn't say anything for a minute or so - it felt like an hour. He just lay there with the flush on his face and shoulders now spreading further down to his chest - an infallible physical indicator of sexual arousal such as I'd seen many times during previous associations with various ladies. He was showing signs of a growing shake as I noticed his hand tremble beside his excited penis

Eventually, he looked up again and said,

"I think perhaps you should give in to your feelings Tom . . . . " 

He said it slowly and with a soft smile, "If that's what you honestly do feel, then you should definitely give in to them. It's certainly nothing to be ashamed of and even if you do what I think you want to do, I can promise that nobody's going to know anything at all about it from me."

I looked up into his face for a moment before gazing down again - pointedly this time, at his now rampantly hard member. I began to almost whisper,

"Yet again, I can't believe I'm actually about to say something but I want to make you come Michael. Don't ask me why because I really don't know. All I do know is that I want to touch you and stroke your cock . . . I want to play with it and with your balls. I want to not only enjoy the feel of you in my hands but I want to make you feel really good . . . . . physically . . . . and the best way I can think of making that happen is to maybe suck you until I make you come. I want that complete power over you . . . . of having your cock deep in my mouth, knowing you put yourself entirely within my control . . . ."

Again there was absolute silence in the room for a moment. Even Michael seemed to have stopped breathing in light of my outburst. 

Then in a release of pent-up breath, I went on - but still very quietly, as if cautious that someone else might overhear what I was saying,

"Ye gods Michael, I can't believe I've actually said it . . . . I never dreamt that I could think about something like that, let alone ever find myself really wanting to do it. I've never sucked another guy's cock, even when we fucked about in the dormitory as kids . . . . but I really want to now. I want to feel your cock in my mouth and suck you until I make you come . . . . I don't want to do it to anyone else, just to you. And I don't want to do anything else either, just suck your penis until I make you come like you've never come before."

He smiled at me then and said,

"Wow, that's a nice thing to come out with Tom - I guess it must have been really difficult for you to say. Although for what it's worth, I think more of you for saying it. Do you honestly feel that . . . ."

I interrupted him because having started to say what was on my mind, the words now came tumbling out,

"Do you know, even though I've never done it before, I know exactly what I love women doing to me, so I reckon I can probably make you feel really good . . . . would you like it if I did that Michael . . . . you know, tried sucking your cock? I really don't know why but I want to see what it feels like to have that gorgeous smooth penis of yours in my mouth . . . . do you mind?"

He said nothing now . . . but after a moment he nodded and I leant forward to the sofa.

At first I just kept staring at his penis and balls as I knelt on the floor. I was absolutely fascinated by the sight of that beautiful tube - it looked so incredibly vulnerable and sexy and the eye of his glans was fully showing now through the end of that long foreskin. I wanted to eat alive the lovely vulnerability of his genitalia. Instead, I tentatively reached out my hand and upon closing my fingers around his throbbing shaft, I once again thrilled to feel the contrast between the incredible inner hardness and the beautifully soft silkiness of the skin which covered it. 

Gripping it loosely in one hand, I slowly began to move his loose foreskin up and down and felt him twitch slightly with each downward movement. Everything about his foreskin was turning me on as its long loose end fell against the back of my hand each time I masturbated him upwards and hid his glans inside the skin. I lowered my head and carefully drew it right back to completely expose his shiny glans again, and opening my jaw to avoid my teeth touching him, I gently closed my lips over the soft and spongy bell-head and sucked it into my mouth.

He moaned softly as it entered and as I worked on the sensitive spot of his frenulum with the dancing end of my tongue, he thrust up slightly and moaned,

"Oh God yes, that's unbelievable Tom . . . . . yesss . . . . please keep doing that to me; oh yes . . . just there". 

For some time I played his cock with the end of my tongue, one minute rolling it around the end and the next thrusting the end of my tongue along the sensitive nerve below. He jerked and moaned in pleasure as I did everything to him that I knew from the many efforts of my girlfriends. Eventually, as his crotch kept lifting to thrust against my lips and I sensed his impending orgasm, I slowly moved my hands upwards and around from his inner thighs, softly rubbing my fingers over the front of his body as they sought and found the muscled mounds of his chest and eventually, traced around each nipple in turn. I continued gently circling them for quite a while, as I simultaneously swirled my tongue again around the end of his penis. I slowly squeezed each tiny bud of his nipples between finger and thumb, before returning to rub gently around the areola with soft fingertips which elicited little sighs of pleasure from him. In mounting passion he panted,

"Oh my god Tom, I never knew my nipples could be so sensitive . . . . I thought it was only you who had the sensitive ones . . . . now I can see what I did to you each time I . . . oh, yes - oh hell yes, that feels bloody incredible . . . "

I kept rotating my finger ends and then lightly squeezed each hardened end, rubbing and squeezing, rubbing and squeezing. 

Gradually, they increased in size and hardness, almost like those on a woman and I knew he was feeling that delicious sensation of comfort and excitement which gentle nipple manipulation always brought to me whenever a girl-friend or my wife had done the same thing to me. 

Taking a chance that he was ready for more, I lowered his cock from my mouth and moving my head upwards to his chest, I sensuously sucked and nibbled at each nipple in turn. He put one hand behind my head and after holding my mouth to his chest for a couple of minutes he just lay there moaning softly as my tongue swirled around each nipple in turn. Eventually, it became too sensitive and he couldn't take any more. He gently but firmly gripped my head in both hands and pushing downwards, guided it back to the fork of his legs and that beautiful little hard cock.

. 

Taking his penis in one hand, he directed it towards my mouth, while his other hand gently pushed my head down onto it. I took his penis into my mouth once more, stroking the end of my tongue up and down the extremely sensitive frenulum on the underside of his glans and when I felt his cock twitching in my mouth, I knew I'd managed to do to him what females had so often managed to do to me - he was building up to an orgasm. 

I slowly moved his shaft further into my mouth and trying desperately to fight the urge to gag, I was gratified to that his smaller size enabled me to just slip the end into the top part of my throat before my nose settled tight into the softness of his pubic hair. I let it rest there for a moment or two until I felt my throat twitch against the intrusion and still managing not to gag, I slowly drew back until only the bulbous end of his shaft remained in my mouth. Again I wanted to eat it all alive but closing my lips around his penis, my tongue went to work in earnest on his glans and the underside of his cock.

Immediately Michael began to moan non-stop and I could feel his body pushing upwards in an attempt to force his penis deeper into my throat again. One of my hands returned to gently stimulate his nipples and after licking the index finger of the other, I encircled his buttocks and drew them tight into me as the other fingers slid between the cheeks to hold them just apart enough for my lubricated finger to locate his anus. Knowing from experience how wonderful it would feel, I very gently and very gently pushed the lubricated index finger against his hole until it managed to slide right in and I could stimulate his prostate with a beckoning motion.

This made him thrust even harder upwards and I had to pull my mouth back a little to avoid gagging and to allow myself to take a breath.

He was beginning to pant hard now and I could feel his anal muscle twitching tightly against my massaging finger - I had located exactly the right spot and was delighted that all the different stimuli I was inflicting on his body were beginning to drive him into a state of ecstacy. I could feel his orgasm beginning and the rise in his now continuous moaning confirmed it.

With a sudden thrust upwards again and giving out a loud uncontrolled moan, his anus clamped around my finger and I felt the first gush of his cum spurt into my throat like the sudden opening of a boiling tap. He quivered in orgasm under my massaging tongue as spurt after wonderful spurt followed until I had to swallow lest it flowed out through my lips. I couldn't get enough of it and licked and sucked until I had it all. It was an amazing intimacy that I felt with him now.

Eventually, his body began to subside and I carefully removed my finger before he could inadvertently trap my hand as he collapsed.

He was panting as he tried to catch his breath. I slowed my tongue movements and just held the tip of his penis against the roof of my mouth. He let out another long moan of deep satisfaction and collapsed back onto the sofa, completely drained.

I had achieved what I wanted to do him and felt really close when he breathlessly thanked me. 

"God that was unbelievable. Thank you so much for making me feel so wonderful - it was like the best dream I've ever had. 

"Now you understand what I mean Tom. You saw what you've just done to me and believe me, it was utterly incredible. I haven't come like that for ages - if ever. Absolutely wonderful - the feeling of my cock being so vulnerable, knowing that at any time you could bite down with your teeth. God, that was an incredible feeling having you suck me like that - I felt completely under your power and absolutely loved every second of it. Now, as soon as I recover, I'm going to do the same to you and I'm going to make sure you love it as much as I did."

His words continued to tumble out, 

"Do you know Tom . . . .I really love you as a person . . . . and perhaps . . . . no, definitely, more than just as a person. But that doesn't mean I'm gay, I just love and respect you . . . . I've always felt very close to you from the word go all those years ago. I also love playing with cocks, particularly with yours that time, even though you were asleep. I love sucking them and having mine sucked and in a moment, I hope I'm going to make you feel every bit as good as you did me. I still love women . . . . I always have and I always will . . . . almost but perhaps not quite, more than cock!"

He then said something which cleared any residual regrets or doubts I may have had before they could properly re-arise,

"There's nothing wrong in doing what we're doing by giving each other physical pleasure and I know you'll still fancy women just as much as you ever did, exactly the same as me. It's just that . . . . well, now you realise that you're bi, you can enjoy the best of both worlds without feeling you've turned gay."

I now knew what he meant and irrespective of how homophobic men may feel, I was now content that I had a type of love for Michael. I wanted to do this again to him and have him do it to me. 

But underneath all that, I still fancied the thought of a really good fuck with a woman. 

Make sense?