When I reached my fortieth birthday, I had been married for nine years, with two kids, but since the divorce two years ago I saw the kids only on holidays. You see, I was straight, or so I thought. Where I grew up, there wasn’t really much choice, not then anyway. There were what we called ‘queers’ around though, guys that dressed funny, and wiggled when they walked, but I never got involved in the popular sport of gay bashing like some of my friends did. I felt let other people live their lives their own way. I shied away from any of the guys at school, and later at college, and at the office, however, who were openly queer. I wouldn’t be caught dead talking to any of them. You know how it is. You are known by the company you keep. I certainly wasn’t gay! But I admit, I was curious.
I was thirty-two when I got married. “About time,” my father said. I thought so too, and that’s why I did it. I thought I tried to convince myself that I was in love when I married Christine, I wanted it to be love, but it wasn’t, at least not the physical kind, and we both knew it almost as soon as the honeymoon was over. She just didn’t turn me on. I really had to work hard at the sex thing with her, and we never had sex with the lights on. Truth is, I couldn’t look at her naked body. I didn’t find it attractive, and I was always embarrassed when I saw her that way. I used to have to really try hard to keep my cock up long enough to climax, and I think she knew it. After we came home from Miami, and settled into our new house and our regular routine, sex became a Saturday night thing that neither of us really enjoyed. Once, we thought about going to a marriage clinic, but didn’t. We tried porno flicks, but I found myself watching the men, and was afraid that she would notice, so I told her I didn’t like them. Our sex became routine. Sort of like, we had to do it because we were married. By the time our second child, a daughter, was born, we didn’t have sex any more. That’s probably why our marriage fell apart. We tried to keep up the pretense for the kids, slept in the same bed, and all that, but that didn’t work for long, and one day Christine and the kids were gone. I wasn’t sorry. Sort of relieved, really.
I don’t mind the child support payments, and Christine asks nothing for herself. I make enough money, and I really do love my kids, now a six year old boy and a four year old girl, both smart, lots of fun, just like their mother was before we got married. She took them to her parents’ home town, about fifty miles from here, and they help care for the kids while she works. I stayed in the city – the suburbs, really. Actually, it’s a small town very near the city which has managed to keep its own identity while serving as a bedroom community for the upper middle class. I left the office and began to work out of my home. People thought I was depressed about my marriage breakup. Maybe I was depressed, but it was not really because Christine left. I just didn’t know who I was, or what I was. Now I’m forty, and no better off.
I had all the normal sexual urges. I used to pick up porno mags in the city, and I masturbated a lot, usually in the washroom at the train station on my way home from work. I visited the porno web pages lots of times when Christine went to bed early with her headaches. I had a few favourites, and found myself first going to bi pages, then increasingly to gay pages. Just curious, I thought. No harm in that, is there? I kept doing it after Christine left, and even started bookmarking the sites I like best. No I spend hours every night going from site to site, and masturbating, alone.
One night, almost by accident, I signed on to a gay chat group for the first time. I’d never joined a chat group before. It changed my life. I gave an anonymous sort of user name – Bert. Can you imagine it? Other guys had nicknames like ‘stud.muffin’ or ‘Big.D’. Mine was simply ‘Bert’. It was actually the short form of my own name, but I was always called Robert and I was sure no one would recognize me if they read my messages. No one I knew would ever think I’d write to a gay chat line.
Anyway, this night I read a few messages, from guys looking for action, guys looking for teens, guys willing to suck anyone under 20 anywhere anytime, but I was over forty, well past the horny teenager stage – they wouldn’t be interested in me. Their interest in young guys kind of turned me on though. I wondered what it would be like – having a horny 18 year old bury his face between my legs. I’d never had a blow job. Christine thought it was dirty, and so did I, I guess. Still, I wondered what it would be like for me to have my face buried in a young guy’s crotch, to have his cock in my mouth, to smell his body odor, up close and personal.
I had nothing to compare it with. I never even had a jerk-off partner, not even when I was in high school. But I could dream, and the dreams left me with wet briefs when I would wake up. I never had wet dreams about Christine. What was going on, I wondered? Was I gay? Other guys my age didn’t turn me on, just the thoughts of sex with these virile young men, no more than boys, really.
It happened after supper one Tuesday evening. I booted up the computer and signed on to a gay group. It was local, I could tell, from the area code of most of the phone numbers that were given by some of the guys on the line. I scanned down till I came to a message that went something like this:
“Hi guys,
This is my very first time on a gay chat line. I’m a bit nervous – no, I’m scared shitless! I’ve never had sex with a guy before, so if I connect, this will be my first time. I know other guys say this, but I really mean it. Tonight’s my birthday. I’m eighteen, and I’m home, alone. I waited till tonight because now I’m legal. Can anyone out there help me celebrate?
Signed, A reluctant virgin”
I don’t know why this struck me. I guess it was because I wanted to believe that this guy was telling the truth. If I connected, it would be my first time too, and though I now knew that I wanted to do it for weeks, even months – hell, probably for years – I was scared shitless myself. I decided to write back to him. Couldn’t hurt, I thought. He won’t know who Bert really is.
“Hi reluctant,” I wrote. “I was touched by your message. I know it’s a difficult thing to want something so much for so long. I’m the same way. But I’m over forty. Does that matter? Like you, I’m a virgin – at least to man-to-man sex. I was married for a while, so I know how to fuck, but I don’t know about anything else. Write back if you’re interested in knowing more about me. I’ll wait. Signed, Bert.”
He must have been waiting for an answer to his message, because he wrote back to me within a few minutes.
“Hi Bert,” he wrote. “Shit, I don’t care if you’re over forty, just so long as you’re not over eighty! That would be like seducing my grandfather! Ha, ha. That’s a joke Bert.
“I will tell you some things about myself. I’m not what you would call handsome. I’ve got red hair, sort of dark red, really, verging on a brown, and cut short. I have some freckles still, though not as many as I had when I was a kid. My mom used to say they were beauty spots, but the girls at my school didn’t seem to agree. They used to tease me something awful! I’m athletic. I played basketball in intermurals, also volleyball, and a bit of soccer in the summer, but the coaches used to tell me I wasn’t aggressive enough, so I never made the school team or anything. I’m kinda smart, a senior in high school with good marks, which is not exactly what the in-crowd likes either. I’m 5’11”, and weigh about 150. I’m not fat, but I’m not muscular either. As far as the sex thing, I’ve never done it with a guy. Hell, I’ve never done it with anyone! My right hand has been my friend since puberty! Ha, ha. That’s another little joke. Write back to me if you like. I’ll wait.” This time, his message was signed, “Hopeful”.
I wrote back immediately. “Hi Hopeful. I was never the athletic type either, but I’m in good shape, I think. I like to play golf, so I walk a lot. I watch what I eat, and try to take care of myself. I’m just over six feet – or I was when I was younger. I don’t think I’ve measured myself in twenty years! I weigh about 185 I think – haven’t weighed myself either for a long time. My pants still fit around the waist, and that’s thirty-four inches, if that tells you anything. Actually, my pant size is 34-34, and has been since about 20 years. I like ‘smart’. I was considered a bit of a nerd at school, actually. I loved Math and Science especially. I work with computers now. I live in the 569 exchange. Are you anywhere near that? I’m living alone now. My wife left two years ago, and took our kids with her, but I won’t talk about that unless you ask. I’d like to meet you, if you’re willing. How about a coffee? We could meet, if you’re not too far away. Signed, Bert.”
“Dear Bert,” came the reply. “I’m in the 569 exchange too, so we must be fairly close. Do you know the little doughnut and coffee shop at the corner of Marshall and Kennedy? It’s not far from my house. I can easily walk to it. I don’t have the car, you see, as my folks went away on a business trip. I’ve been home alone since Sunday, and they are not going to be back before the weekend. I’m old enough to man the fort, my father said. They said we’d celebrate my eighteenth birthday when they got home. I’m not holding my breath, though. They don’t put much store in birthdays and Christmases, things like that. They always forget to buy me presents. They usually just give me money instead. As a result, I’ve got a great CD collection! Ha, ha. That’s another joke, by the way, just in case you’re missing the humor here.
Anyway, I’m going to walk down to Marshall and Kennedy. I’ll be there by 7:30. I’ll be wearing a burgundy polo shirt, blue jean cutoffs, and black sneakers. Remember my red hair? It’s my most easily recognizable feature, I guess. I’ll wear my white ball cap. You can check me out if you like. If you don’t show up, or speak to me by 8:00, I’ll know you weren’t interested and no harm done. But I hope you’ll come. Signed, Waiting For You.”
Marshall and Kennedy was only two blocks away. This kid was right in my neighbourhood! I stripped out of my clothes and took a quick shower and a shave. I dressed neatly in casual slacks and a button shirt, and was out the door by 7:15. I wanted to be inside the coffee shop when the boy arrived. I walked, trying not to look like I was hurrying, since there were several neighbours out and about as I went past. I was sure everyone who looked at me could read my mind and knew where I was going and why. Silly, I know, but that’s how it was.
I had a coffee in my hand and was in a seat facing the door when he walked in. I recognized him right away. He was pretty well exactly as he described himself, but he was wrong about one thing – he really was very good looking, at least I thought so. But then, I think I was in love with him already, so I was probably biased. He had a very good build, with broad shoulders, fairly muscular arms, and though his shirt was loose, you could tell by the way it hung on him that he had a nice chest, solid, but not bulging. His legs were long, and covered in light, downy reddish hair, darker up near the edges of his cutoffs. I thought he was very sexy, but he didn’t seem to be aware of it. Perhaps that’s why the girls ignored him. They look for the guys who seem to ooze sex out of every pore! They’ll give you a quick time, but not a long time, I thought. Girls are so stupid when it comes to relationships. They were fools to leave him alone. I’m surprised the boys did too. He really melted my resistance. But I was still afraid – what if people found out? My reputation would be destroyed, I’d loose my job, loose contact with my kids….
The boy bought his coffee and took his place in a seat by the door. He sipped the hot drink slowly, and watched as each person entered. He looked shy, and kinda scared. It took guts to do what he was doing. It was going to take guts for me to approach him! I waited, and watched.
The half-hour was nearly up, the last seconds ticking away, and the boy seemed to deflate. He just sort of sagged, as if he was very disappointed. He turned and scanned the room, but I tried not to make eye contact. He looked very close to crying. His head kinda drooped, and his shoulders sagged. He looked like he was losing his confidence.
I had to make my move, or forget the whole thing. When he stood up, threw his coffee cup in the waste basket, and headed for the door, I made up my mind instantly and moved quickly, reaching for the handle just ahead of him and opening the door for him. He looked up and smiled limply. He started to go through the doorway when at last I got the courage to speak.
“I saw you sitting there,” I said. “You looked like you were waiting for someone.”
“I was,” the boy replied. “I guess I missed him.”
I gulped, and looked him straight in the eyes. “My name’s Bert,” I said, almost choking on the words, fearing his rejection.
His face lit up immediately. He gave me a broad smile that just about melted me. “Hi Bert,” he said. “I’d just about given up hope. My real name’s Bob. Bob and Bert. Now there’s a pair!” He laughed.
I wasn’t about to tell him how funny it really was, for my name was really Robert. Bob was a short form for my name, just as Bert was. I started to laugh too, and he thought it was about the Bert and Bob thing.
“Wanna go for a walk and talk?” he said.
“Sure,” I replied and followed him out the door.
Well, we did go for that walk, and we did talk. He told me about his family, and about school, and about how lonely he had been, with no one who understood how hard it was to be young and shy and gay in a straight neighbourhood, and I told him how lonely I had been, refusing to admit I was gay, and trying to live a married life that was a lie. We walked and walked, and when we ended up right in front of my house, it was about 9:30.
“This is my place,” I said. “Wanna come in?”
He blushed. This was another of those decision times.
“Don’t say yes unless you really want to,” I assured him. “I’ll understand.”
He didn’t have to think long.
“Sure,” Bob said. Then he smiled, his confidence restored.
We entered together and after a quick look around, and a few comments about the place, I led him to the den in the rear of the house. I pulled the drapes, turned off the ceiling light, leaving only some soft accent lights, and put on a CD re-release of Simon and Garfunkle.
“This may not be your kind of music,” I said.
“It’s fine,” he replied. “Anything you like is fine with me. When you come to my house, I’ll show you some of the music I like.” He sat down on the leather couch and looked up at me, a question in his eyes.
I sat down beside him, and I could tell he was nervious. I put my hand on his thigh and felt him stiffen. “Whenever you want this to stop,” I said, “just tell me. I don’t want to do anything to hurt you, or frighten you. I’m new at this too, and I’m not quite sure how to proceed.”
Bob relaxed. “In the movies, they always start with a kiss,” he said with a deep red blush that made his few remaining freckles jump right out at me. He turned his head towards me and waited, but not for long. I leaned over and pressed my lips against his, gently at first, with lips only slightly parted. He started to open his lips, and I followed. His tongue entered my mouth, and I tasted him for the first time. I licked his tongue with my own, pressing harder against him. He put his arms around me and hugged me to him. We explored each other’s mouths with our tongues, breathing heavily now through our nostrils, his hot breath searing my cheek. We explored each other’s bodies with our hands. I pressed mine to his chest, feeling for his nipples. Not like Christine’s, I thought, not large and bulbous, but firm, and hard, and on a youthful, muscular chest. I slipped my hand under his shirt and felt the chest again, searching for the nipples. He shifted his weight and pressed against me till I leaned back on the arm of the couch. It seemed he was going to take charge, so I just let him. Though my need was great, his seemed to be greater.
Bob reached down and felt my hard cock which had been pressing against his side. He felt along its entire eight inch length, longer now it seemed than usual, and harder. In fact, I’d never ever felt this turned on in the nine years I was married to Christine. He reached for my hand and drew it down to his own crotch and there I found myself feeling a boy’s cock for the very first time in my life. It sent shivers of pleasure surging through my body. Bob felt it, and groaned. Our lips parted and he kissed my neck, deep, sucking kisses. I thought for an instant about the hickies of my youth, and then forgot about them. I lifted my neck as he explored me with his tongue.
I was getting hotter and hotter. I wanted to open my shirt to get some air, and reached up to undo the top button. Bob reacted instinctively, and started opening the others. He reached in and felt my chest, hairier than his, but not too thick. His was almost bare, just little wisps of light hair.
Bob left my neck long enough for me to pull his shirt off over his head. He finished opening the last of the buttons and pulled my shirt back over my shoulders, trapping my arms behind me. Before I could get them out of the sleeves, he began sucking on my nipples, which got harder and harder under the spell of his hot, moist tongue. I shrugged off the shirt, and reached for his belt as his lips found mine again, our upper bodies pressed firmly together, our skin touching, with only my hands between us, working his belt buckle loose. That accomplished, I reached for the zipper and began to draw it down. He lifted his hips off me to give my hands a chance to do their work, and when the zipper reached the bottom, I plunged my hand inside, finding his throbbing six inch hard cock there, waiting for me. As soon as I grasped it, he groaned again, and collapsed against me. But then he lifted himself and reached for my belt. In a few seconds he had his hand wrapped firmly around my hard cock. I was in heaven!
It was not easy to push his cutoffs over his hips, but once he knew what I was doing, he hoisted himself up again to give me room. Cutoffs and white briefs came together, and I felt his hard, hot, moist cock slap against my belly. By this time, he was pulling my pants down, but it was harder to do, with him on top of me. After a few failed attempts, he lifted himself off me, grabbed my pants and pulled them right down as I lifted my backside off the couch to help him. He didn’t wait to get them off completely, however. It was as if his lips couldn’t leave me alone long enough. With his shorts and my pants down around our knees, we resumed our passionate foreplay. He grabbed my throbbing cock and squeezed.
I was so horny by now, though, I needed to be brought to a climax. Whether he was ready or not, I needed release. I began to heave my hips up and down, driving my cock in and out of his fist. Realizing my need, he lowered himself down until he was kneeling on the floor in front of me. Forcing my pants down to my ankles, he pushed my knees apart and reached for my cock. He kissed it, then licked it, then took it in his mouth. I reached down with both hands and worked his head up and down, forcing him to take my cock down his throat. He gagged at first, but then relaxed, and my cock was soon sliding in and out, in and out, his tongue working hard along its sides. He reached for my balls with his free hand, and rolled them together, one slipping over and the other slipped under, back and forth, back and forth. The passion rose, my seamen was starting its short journey, and before either of us knew it, spurt after spurt of my hot cum hit the back of his throat. He seemed like he would choke at first, and a lot of it leaked out of his mouth as I continued to fuck his face, but he never let go, and he soon sucked me dry. He kept licking, and swallowing, my softening cock still in his throat.
Finally, he released me, and moved up to kiss me on the lips, my own seamen tasting salty in my mouth. But it was his turn now. He needed that divine release.
Bob leaned back, and to the side, and I managed to turn him over onto his back. I pulled his cutoffs and underwear off completely. He was left with only his sneakers and white socks. I began to lick him all over with my tongue. I tasted his eye lids, and his face, and his neck and his armpits. I loved the smell of him, and breathed him in deeply. I moved to his chest, nibbling at his light coating of downy hair, pulling on them gently with my lips. I found his nipples, and licked circles around one, then the other. Working lower, I licked the lint out of his belly button. It stuck to my tongue, and I had to pick it off with my hand. As I brought my fingers nearer to my nose, I could smell on them his fresh, wonderful boycock smell, and it was enough to make me cut right to the chase.
I reached his throbbing cock, that hard, lovely cock, that bounced as I touched it with my tongue. I tasted the salty precum, and then took him into my mouth. He moaned, and arched his back, pushing his cock deeper and deeper to the back of my throat. I was every bit as much a novice at this as he was, but I quickly figured out how to relax my throat, and the head of his cock slipped down till my nose was pressed right up against the base of his belly. I twisted my head this way and that way, and he moaned again. I drew back, and he whimpered, like a baby would when you take away his soother, so I drew him into my mouth again. In and out, in and out, he was beginning to buck, and twist, passion sweeping over him and controlling his every movement. He began to thrust his cock deeper and deeper, trying to reach my very soul. Fast and faster he bucked, his breathing rapid now, almost a snorting sound, the sound of passion nearing its peak.
Suddenly he grabbed my head, his hands pressed against my ears, his hips bucking, his breath racing, and his cock swelling even larger inside my mouth. The moment was upon him, and surge after surge of hot seamen erupted from his cock. Too much for me to swallow, it spilled out of my mouth as he plunged again and again, fast at first, then slower, as the passion subsided, and the moment passed. As he softened, I help him in my mouth, not wanting to let go, not wanting to lose him, not wanting this to be a one-night stand. Finally, though, I had to release him.
He drew my head up to his and kissed me on the lips, sucking in what seamen I didn’t swallow. Then he hugged me to him, and I collapsed on top of him, exhausted. Neither of us moved for several minutes. I didn’t want the spell to be broken. I realized that this was the first moment of true happiness in my entire life.
“Happy birthday Bob,” I said. “I love you. I loved you in the height of passion, and I love you now that the passion has subsided. I will love you always, for the gift you gave me this evening. But I will make no demands on you, Bob. You are young. Your life is your own. I make no claims on it. I just thank you for coming into my life now, and being here, and with me this way, and I will always love you for this moment, forever.”
The tears were running down my face. Bob wiped them with his hands, and then hugged me to him, tightly. “And I, you,” he said simply. There were tears in his eyes as well, and we weren’t lonely anymore
