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I am not a student of psychology and have no affectations of being knowledgeable on this subject. Everything I am about to tell you based on my subjectivity. Hopefully, therefore, I do not piss off readers who are well versed in this topic.
To me, one of the most guarded subjects in the world is male homosexuality activity. With the biblical abhorrence to this phenomenon that we were all raised on, I suppose this comes expectedly, and any statistical evidence, therefore, can never be accurately documented.
Of course, much is well-known about the gay scene and the various subcultures therein. When one gets to the matter of bisexuality, however, the water becomes a lot murkier. There is a great deal of material written about men who find themselves in adverse situations like prisons and the goings-on in these institutions. These testimonials are, nonetheless, not regular, and tainted with the extremeness that isolation from ‘normal’ society may provoke.
I am a product of a boy’s boarding school and had sexual encounters with other guys. Upon meeting most of these men later, they had mostly got married and were seemingly leading happy heterosexual lives.
Many of the gay men I encountered in my life also had a taste for straight guys, who, according to them, could be ‘had’ for financial reward, or if the intake of alcohol was sufficient. This concept brings to mind the mirthful adage; that the difference between a straight man and a gay man is a six-pack of beers.
In any case and before I begin to bore you to death, the point that I always wonder about is the gay latency in men. Are all men capable of indulging in a gay act, without it forced upon them?
When I met John, we were both in our early forties and retired. Our lives had taken a similar path, and that is why we found ourselves in that position.
John had joined his dad’s small business after school and had become instrumental in the blossoming of that business. John's business acumen was exemplary. By his late-thirties, John’s company was doing so well that a consortium had offered to buy the concern for a great deal of money. Sagely, John accepted the offer, wary that if he didn’t, the consortium had the means to open in opposition to him and possibly put him out of business. After the deal got done, John decided to move to a coastal town and enjoy his retirement.
When the business I worked for also sold out to a large competitor, with the money I got from the value of my shares, I became John’s neighbour.
At the time we became neighbours and friends, John was married with two teenage daughters. Although I found his wife a strain, we got on very well. John and his wife knew I was gay and appeared to be unfazed by this state of affairs.
John had bought his home the year before and had come to know the region well. I always joked about the fact that he would’ve made an excellent tour guide because on the many outings we spent together, he was incredibly knowledgeable about the region. Sadly, we had to put up with his wife’s irritating droning on these trips, but that was a small price to pay for the enjoyment of these excursions. We also regularly got together for dinner and coffee, etcetera, and in fairness to his wife, Julia, she was a brilliant baker.
John was a pleasant-looking tall man with a well-proportioned body and had an engaging smile. He always looked neat, even if he was only wearing a t-shirt and shorts. His nails on his attractive feet and hands were scrupulously clean at all times.
After several months as neighbours, I met a couple, John and Julia were friends with, who had also moved to our town. John and Stuart had been friends all their lives. From the very start, something fascinated about Stuart, who was a bearish, large, and good-looking guy.
What intrigued me most about Stuart was that John seemed somewhat deferential toward Stuart.
In time, two interesting things came to the fore concerning Stuart. The first of these happened in my presence, and the second was a story that was related to me by Julia, John’s wife, whom I could tell wasn’t a big fan of Stuart’s.
At one of the gatherings at John’s home, a barbeque to be exact, after John and I had been in conversation for a long while, Stuart walked over and interrupted our conversation.
Looking at John in a slightly irritated manner, as if our private conversation had been impolite, Stuart said, “I’ve also got a cock, you know.”
The look of the embarrassment of John’s face was intense. “Yes, you are correct… We should be more sociable,” John stammered.
As we walked over to join the others, Stuart gave me a victorious look of accomplishment.
I was bewildered by what had happened, and couldn’t decide whether it had been a dig at me because I was gay, or whether the interplay got laced with jealousy.
The second Stuart story about Stuart was told to me by Julia, in front of John. Julia was speaking about guys drinking too much alcohol, and firmly stated that she hated it when John did so. The incident that infuriated her the most happened several years before at one of John’s birthday parties. Apparently, on that evening, as the guests were leaving, Stuart gave John an inappropriately long, open-mouth kiss. Recalling her annoyance, Julia had chastised John, as I was sure she had done on many occasions.
“Jeez, Julia, enough already. We were both drunk,” John uncomfortably explained.
That night as I lay in bed, both incidents ruminated in my mind.
A month or so later, John and Julia suggested I accompany them on a visit to a spa resort that they loved. I happily agreed, as always.
The resort had a luxury zone higher up, and an inexpensive area for the gen pop down below. I got assured that with us visiting during the week, it would be quiet, unlike on weekends.
The house we hired was fantastic and had the most breathtaking vista over the valley it overlooked. We took all our food along so that John could do what he did best; he was an ace at making barbeques. I was in charge of all the salads and breakfasts, to give Julia a break from her daily chores of feeding and cleaning, for John and their daughters.
After our midday arrival, we sat on the veranda and had a delicious lunch with a few glasses of wine, which I had brought along.
That afternoon we hit the pool and luxuriated in the warmth of the water. As John and Julia had predicted, the place was virtually empty, so it felt like we had the place all to ourselves.
Much later, we all returned to the house to commence dinner. If I say so myself, the meal was fantastic. Afterward, John and I did all the dishes, in keeping with the promise we had made to Julia.
After all the chores got done, John and I decided to return to the warm water. Julia declined to accompany us, citing a great novel she was reading as an excuse.
Shortly, with wine, in glasses and all, John and I were on our way back to the pool. We weren’t drunk but had already imbibed a few glasses of wine that day.
After we once more found ourselves hanging off the side of the pool and sipping our wine, I asked John about Stuart. “So, how long have you known Stuart?” I asked.
“We met in high school,” he answered.
“I don’t wish to be rude, but he almost seems to have a hold of sorts over you,” I innocently inquired.
John remained quiet for some time before he answered. “What I’m about to tell you must never be repeated,” John earnestly said.
“Of course,” I assured him.
Again there was a long silence before John quietly said, “When we were teenagers, we fooled around with one another... You know, sexually.”
“All teenage boys do that,” I proffered, before adding, “So that’s no big deal.”
“Yeah, but it never stopped there,” he added in a barely audible whisper.
“Oh,” I replied uncomfortably.
“Please understand, I am happily married and have no regrets about that, but now and then I get an itch," he shamefully informed me.
I did not ask for any more details and allowed the conversation to end naturally.
We continued splashing around and sipping our wine after that for a short while before John again spoke. “Well, I suppose we had better head to the change room and put on dry clothing.”
The change room had a rather sticky sliding door, beyond which a wall got built, that one had to walk around on either side to enter.
After we were both naked, I looked at John’s dick. It was cute but rather average. I, on the other hand, had always prided myself, having the large cock that John’s eyes were focussed upon.
“You remind me of Stuart, he’s also big like you,” John exclaimed.
It was as if the world now went into slow-motion. After looking into my eyes, John submissively dropped his gaze back to my crotch and slowly dropped to his knees. Then, after looking up at me, John’s eyes began pleading. I was not worried about the unexpected arrival of anyone else, because, by the time they had opened the sticky sliding door, we would both have been able to place towels around our hips. Resultantly, I moved my body closer to John.
As I entered John’s mouth, I was stunned by what a great cock-sucker he was. With his arms around my hips and my hands on his head, John began giving me one of the best blowjobs I had ever enjoyed, and for the next ten minutes, I leisurely speared his mouth.
When John finally moved his head backward, he looked up at me and said, “This is great, Stuart, is always a lot rougher than you.”
John’s mouth, however, didn’t reclaim my cock afterward. Instead, he got to his feet and bent over the slatted bench, offering his arse to me.
I instantly moved up and placed my dick at his man-hole. As I pushed forward, John began to groan like a bitch in heat.
“Mmm, yeah, oh, Jesus, that feels good,” he began intoning, before pleading, “Please make it long and slow.”
I adhered to his wish and gave him a lengthy anal examination. Much as the stimulation was fantastic, as I listened to his approving enjoyment, the coitus was mind-blowing.
"Ah, ah, ooh, ah, ooh,” John intoned over and over again with every thrust. My auditory stimulation soon became too much for me as my balls decided to explode in a release.
When I extracted my dick, I told John to turn around before I commenced sucking his dick. John was so hyped-up at this point that he shot his load with a minute or two.
As I stood, John placed his arms around me and gave me a long, loving kiss.
“Luckily, I brought some soap along for us so we can have a shower,” John informed me, before laughing and adding, “But I’d better use the toilet first, to get rid of the evidence.”
The following morning, after I had made coffee for myself, I got to enjoy the full splendour of our location on the veranda.
In the east, the sun began to peep over the mountain tops. In rivulets of molten lava, the sun’s finger’s then traversed the scenery, clawing its ascendancy over the landscape. It was breath-taking to watch.
Julia joined me first, shortly followed by John. I made a light breakfast because I was taking them for lunch to a wine estate.
That afternoon we again visited the pool, followed by a fish barbeque and salads for dinner.
That night, Julia again preferred to read her book and not join us at the pool.
When John and I got to the change room, John orally attacked my lips before I again fucked him.
Later, when we got back to the change room, John and I had a comprehensive sixty-nine encounter.
The following day as we drove home, Julia began to drone on about taking their daughters on a two-week trip to visit her sister during the school holidays.
“Do you want to join us?” she asked John.
“No, baby, there is some work I want to do around the house. Why don’t the three of you go and enjoy yourselves without me to irritate you,” John answered as he gave me a sideways glance and winked.
“Cool,” Julia replied.
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