I became a cock sucking fag Pt 15. (This is a bit long and contains three sections of my life in one story).
The last time I saw John was Thanksgiving morning. I hadn't seen him in about three weeks prior to that. But that morning, he texted me and said he had errands to run before hosting dinner and wanted to know if he could stop by. In some ways, I was happy he wanted to stop by, but in other ways, I knew what that meant. He was horny, and he wanted sex before we both ventured out to our respective holiday dinners.
I wasn't overly excited about his impromptu visit but reluctantly agreed. At about 1145 A.M., John's car pulled up in front of my house. When he walked in, I could tell things were different for us. Since Paul's health issues had started taking a turn for the worse more than two months ago, our time together had diminished too barely, if at all. I missed him. I thought a lot about him, but like I mentioned before, I knew where he was at in life. So, I never expected him to be my full-time boyfriend. I knew Paul came first. And as selfish as it seems, I had gotten what I wanted from him, which was more experiences with a man. I had accepted during our brief time together that I liked dick more than pussy, and even if he was out of my life, I knew where I was heading.
Of course, hormones got the best of us during his visit, and before long, we were locked in deep kisses while sitting on my couch. I started to suck his dick as I was slowly stroking my own, listening to him moan out how much he missed me or wished he could be with me more. But I knew at that moment he was just talking romantically because his hard cock was in my mouth. John pulled me up to his face and whispered he needed to be in me. I guided him to my bedroom, where I slipped off my pants and bent myself over my bed. He retrieved the lube from my dresser drawer, lubed his dick up, and slid it into me. John pumped my ass for about six minutes until he came deep inside of me. As disappointed as I was that he was just here to fuck me in the ass, I was happy he was there fucking me in the ass. But I was truly dissatisfied that he hadn't gone longer than six minutes.
When he pulled out, he did focus his attention on me and used his warm, wet mouth on my dick until I came down his throat. But I tell you wholeheartedly, the moment I had cum, he started getting himself dressed and left quickly to get home to his family. And that was the last straw. And here's why.
After he left, I knew he had Booty-Called me. He needed to get his cock sucked and cum inside of me. Because if he truly wanted to spend some time with me before or after the holiday, he would have made better arrangements. And he didn't. Let alone the fact that I hadn't seen him prior. I wasn't mad; I was actually just disappointed. I needed more than this; I was tired of being the second fiddle and wanted a full-time boyfriend. I knew it was time to move forward.
When I got to my parents' house and other family members started to arrive, I watched as couples who had been married forever began barking and snapping at each other. My mother must have said six or seven really condescending things to my dad before we even put food on the table. As we sat and ate, I thought to myself, "I am glad I am not married."
At this point, I hadn't come out to anyone in the family. I surely wasn't going to tell them today that I had been sleeping with a man, let alone a married man. But comically enough, as I watched the married couples avoid each other, I was laughing inside, thinking that the straight people who weren't getting along and probably hadn't had sex in years were still holding onto nothing while John's cum was dancing around in my ass. And that just hours before, I had his dick in my mouth, and eventually, I was bent over my bed while his 6-inch cock was pumping my tight ass while I moaned out like a woman. Even though I knew the opportunity with John was fading, I was okay with it. Surprisingly, it was just a few months later that I met Christian.
Remember, a few stories back, I told you I had changed positions and was a supervisor of the unit I was working for. Well, without any disrespect to any race, creed, religion, or sex, the state had hired this rather lazy, uneducated woman who was a recent immigrant to America, placing her in our division. She was slow, made huge mistakes, took two or three lengthy bathroom breaks daily, and was actually more of a hindrance than a help. As time passed, she was always late, sick, slow working, and usually smelled too high heaven.
One day, just after lunch, as she was walking back to her station, she either slipped and fell or fainted and ended up on the floor. 911 was called, and my boss told me to follow the ambulance to the hospital while she called the employee's family to let them know. I was not thrilled with that plan, but I accepted that someone from our organization should be there with her until her family could respond.
After arriving at the hospital, I met the Charge Nurse, who, after discovering I was a State of California employee and the patient's supervisor, allowed me back into the ER. I hated being there. I didn't like the woman. I had always felt she was a DEI hire, and I wasn't thrilled that I had to hang around the Emergency Room until some family member, who probably didn't speak English, showed up. That is until her care nurse came walking down the hall.
Our eyes met as he approached her room.
"Are you a family member?" He asked me.
"No, I am her supervisor. We both work for the State." Was my reply.
I extended my hand and introduced myself. "I am Tim," I said.
"I am Christian." He replied. "Do you know if she has any health issues?"
