Awaening

It was the merest glance, a glimmer of recognition on my part. And, I was sure, on his. Across a crowded bar, lively and raucous on a Friday night, bodies moving and writhing, our eyes met for a split second that seemed to last for minutes but must have been over in a flash. I'd been spotted.

In a gay bar.

By one of my dad's golf buddies.

There was no doubting he'd seen me. Or had he? He didn't come over. Maybe I'd get away with it.

I didn't know what to think. Was Bill going to tell my parents where he'd seen me? What was he doing there anyway?

It didn't make sense.

He'd divorced a couple of years earlier, but I didn't think he was into men. He didn't seem the type. It must have been a mistake, wandering into the bar on a night out.

It was on the edge of the quarter after all. Yes, that must be it, I thought.

I wasn't ready to reveal my true feelings to my parents yet, so I prayed that he hadn't recognised me.

The great escape, as I hoped it would be, only lasted six days. I was terrified when we met, by chance, at the local gym, but it turned out to be the best thing in my life.

From potential catastrophe to ecstasy in one fell swoop - and to think that milli-second look through a throbbing bar led to it.

I was finished in the gym and heading for the sauna when I bumped, literally, into Bill. I had a double take. No! Not ready for this, I thought, as I mumbled a hello.

Bill cheerily greeted me, as is his way - we've known him for virtually all my life, so he's been around and about the family forever. I hesitated, but shook his hand and exchanged in small talk.

As we wound down the conversation, I thought: "I'm going to get away with this."

But I was wrong. He joined me in the sauna and, as luck would have it, the only other guy in there was on his way to the showers within a minute.

I gulped, thinking: "It's not over yet."

Sure enough, he soon piped up: "Saw you in Johnny's the other night!"

I was distraught. It was hell. But he obviously saw my concern, and added: "It's OK."

It took me a while to compose myself after the shock. "Saw you too," I replied.

"Yes, I go there regularly - it's one of my favourite bars," said Bill.

I looked up, surprised, and he went on: "I'm gay, Ross. What about you?"

Nodding almost morosely in response, I felt his hand touch mine. "It's OK," he whispered. "I know exactly how you're feeling. I've been there myself. I can help you. It'll all be OK."

Seconds later, we were interrupted by a couple of lads entering the sauna. What timing! we didn't stay long after that, but, as we headed for the showers, Bill asked me over to his that night for a spot of dinner.

I agreed to go, despite my reservations, and it was so good to open up to someone.

We talked and talked, me telling how I'd acted on impulse and discovered I preferred men, him revealing at length how he'd always known he was gay - even through 20 years of marriage - and coming to terms with his feelings despite loving his wife dearly.

He talked of his first experiences, and how the desires had risen in him so much that he broke down in front of Maureen, confessing his darkest secret. Incredibly, she was supportive - so much so that we'd never heard a word of what had happened - helping Bill in his greatest hour of need. They separated eventually, but she remained a rock even after the split, accompanying him to a gay support group and making sure he always stocked up on condoms. I was truly amazed at her backing amid a betrayal.

We both ended in tears.

We didn't end up in bed that night, but it wasn't long.

Two nights later, we met up for a drink and we talked about who we fancied as they stood around the bar. The more time I spent with Bill, the more his rugged look entranced me. He caught me staring at him a couple of times - and I knew it, 27 year age gap or not, I wanted him.

At that moment, he knew exactly what I was thinking and laid his hand on mine, leaned across and kissed me lightly, just outside my lips, close enough to show his feelings, far enough from a full smacker to make it seem casual.

My mind was racing, my heart pumping, my cock springing to life and instinct took over as I grabbed his head and steamed headlong into his eager mouth. Passion took control of me, but Bill resisted, mouthing: "Not here, Ross. Let's go back to mine."

The 10-minute ride back to his house went by in a flash, my body aching with yearning, my brain blitzed by desire and my arse quaking with expectation.

We knew our places. He was a top, I was a bottom.

His trousers had a tent pole sticking up; my pussy seemed to be opening up millimetre by millimetre naturally as we hurried to his house. We'd barely got through the front door before I grasped him close for a kiss.

But the embrace did not last long; the smell of sex was in the air. Bill led me upstairs - well, I say, led, but we were jumping two stairs at a time in the desire to get to his bedroom.

He asked me to take off my shoes and let him do the rest. It was all I could have wished for.

He disrobed me slowly but surely, kissing and licking me all the time, adding to the burning desire sweeping through my veins.

He paid special attention to my pulsating cock and balls, then tongued my arse with a delicate but firm touch which sent me spiralling to ecstasy.

Every dream was coming true, and I was shaking with excitement, drooling with passion and all but ready to shout "Just fuck me" when the lube came out.

He lathered my hole with a dollop, then worked expert fingers into the passage - I was sure I was gaping but I obviously wasn't - before holstering his beautiful dick with a condom.

He was big, nine and a half inches he said later. I'd had other cocks, including a 9, but it didn't have the powerful look or the extra girth of Bill's. No wonder his wife had always looked happy before the split!

I was almost passing out with an unforgiving ache for his cock, then I heard him say: "If you want to stop, then just say." "God, no, Bill. I want this more than anything," I panted back, arse in the air, on all fours.

His thick dick's head slowly made its way up my canal - it was a little tender, but I knew the rewards of patience with cocks. And this one turned me on more than any.

I tried to spread my legs further, but it wasn't necessary as Bill slid in deeper without trouble, bottoming out as his balls crashed against me.

It was overwhelming, a feeling beyond anything I'd experienced before. This 55-year-old had turned me to jelly. My hot hole pressed back, trying to get more inside me, and he pushed back as he slowly, gently, deliberately began a fucking motion to satisfy us both.

The pleasure came quickly as his pistoning cock plunged mercilessly into my pussy. It was heaven, and my mind could hardly comprehend the sensations bulleted from my prostate to my head.

I squeezed his cock as much as I could, willing him to drive deeper and deeper. Bill's thrusts got faster and more powerful, his staying power immense. I was shattered, but he kept ploughing the furrow, my orgasm bursting out as he roared approval. His stamina was incredible, and I had come at least twice before he slowed down, after spurting his man juice into the rubber.

I was spent, but I managed to whisper: "Thanks, Bill. I loved that."

"I loved it, too, Ross."

Two weeks later, my mother mentioned: "Saw Bill today. He's happier than I've seen him for ages."

I didn't say: "Yes, mum, I did that for him." Not quite ready to reveal that Bill's big dick was deflowering her youngest son.

Four times that first night, twice most nights since.

* To be continued