I am VERY attracted to gay men. That's just the way I'm wired. I didn't choose it but I certainly don't regret it.
This proclivity has led to a life of delightful sexual satisfaction.
My lover, Carson, is a bit of a flame. Not flamboyant exactly, but very obviously gay. Not quite a clichΓ©, but he possesses mannerisms I find delightfully homosexual.
We have sex a lot. Anytime we're home together there will be lots of intimate interaction.
Carson loves to embarrass me, to tease me. He is always in control, one way or another.
One Sunday morning he strolled into the kitchen where I was making coffee. He was wearing a silky floral print robe, a woman's robe. It was also unfastened, and his large shaved penis was hanging in obvious view. I pretended to be busy at the sink, because I knew he would do something silly to make me self conscious.
I was not really in the mood for his gay stuff today. I was kinda grumpy and was hoping that my surliness would sent him a message to leave me alone for a while. This was exactly the wrong thing to do, and I knew it at the time. Carson would sense this, and would make to do things... naughty things.
He came right up to me and snuggled against me. He reached up and turned my face to his and initiated a deep wet kiss. His hand snaked inside my pajama bottoms and ever so gently he grasped my cock.
Smiling, but saying nothing he backed off a step and sat on one of the barstools at the kitchen island. His robe fell away and he lewdly thrust his hips forward and handed me a cock ring. He calls these our "wedding rings". I knew what he wanted and stopped what I was doing and turned to him. As he had taught me, I pushed his testicles through the ring one at a time, followed by his heavy cock. He handed me my ring and I pulled my cock out of my pajama bottoms and repeated the process on myself.
I knew what would happen if I resisted. The day would be ruined. He would turn bitchy and accuse me of not caring for him. This behavior would not end. We would spend the day in discussion about the meaning of our relationship. I would miss watching the football game.
He had me... and he knew it. He smiled and pulled me to him. Our shaved cocks mingling as we kissed some more. I went deeply into our kisses. Carson would sense if I held back. I was still crabby though, and was happy that my cock stayed soft. He broke our kiss and walked to the couch. He dropped into a sideways sitting position with one leg tucked under him. He took the remote and the big screen jumped to life. The teams were lined up for the kickoff. Carson's robe was open. He was tastefully manscaped. Everything Carson did was deliberate... he was fastidious and stylish... deliciously gay. I found this very sexy in spite of my mood.
We had an 'arrangement' when it came to watching football. Carson hated everything about spectator sports, well almost everything. He seemed to enjoy the masculinity on display. I could watch though, and he would watch with me, as long as we did it 'his way'.
He would act as bartender, and would prepare the most incredible game watching food anyone could imagine. Together we would do 'naughty' things the whole time.