My work days, as with many peoples, merged one with another, each one so mundane and routine that they became indistinguishable from each other, that is, until that fateful day when anything that could go wrong did. I prided myself on making the accounts balance, however creatively I had to do it, but that day no matter how hard I tried the figures just didn't add up and however manipulative I became the problem just got worse. By the end of the day my head spun and, unusually for me, I craved a drink.
Normally I'm not a mid-week drinker and definitely not one to drink alone, so when my wife suggested I take Bob to the local pub with me it seemed like the best idea I'd heard all day, after all misery needs company. On the previous occasions that Bob and I had drowned our sorrows together the day always ended better than it had begun and everything seemed fine again, at least, until the next morning when we had to deal with our excesses.
Bob had built, what he called, his 'Retreat' at the end of his garden as a place where he could escape from the world and relax leaving his cares and worries behind, or at least that is what he had laughingly said, but I was to discover that his retreat was more one of a parallel existence than an escape from his real one.
After wandering the length of his garden, negotiating en-route large patches of overgrown nettles and shrubbery I began to wonder if he was in as all the curtains were drawn which, from previous visits, was unusual. Concluding that if he was 'at home' then he was obviously busy with something I turned to leave but my curiosity got the better of me so I peeked in through a gap in the curtains. I was amazed to see that Bob was sitting in his usual large wicker chair but this time his jeans were down around his ankles and he was slowly stroking his erect cock. I stepped back a pace, feeling like a voyeur having caught Bob 'pleasuring himself', but I was both intrigued at what he could be watching that would give him a 'boner' like that, and drawn to the sight of Bob's hand moving up and down his hard erection.
By adjusting my position I could see about half of the screen of his laptop and saw what was obviously gay porn playing there. I don't know what surprised me the most, that Bob was wanking in his retreat or that he was doing it to gay porn. I leant forward again, ignoring the screen and watched as Bob stroked, my own hand going inadvertently to the growing bulge in my jeans. I was getting hard, quickly. I couldn't take my eyes of Bob and the thought of 'I wish it was me doing that for him', crept unbidden into my mind.
A loud shout, Bob's wife, interrupted my thoughts and I turned quickly, my hand covering my embarrassment.
"Is he not there?" she enquired as I stepped away from the window.
"No, err . . . I don't think so," I replied, as my face began to turn a deep crimson.
"Funny," she said, "I was sure that he was there. He must have gone for a walk. I'll tell him you called", she added as she turned and re-entered the house.
It was as she disappeared that Bob emerged from his retreat looking anything but composed.
"I didn't hear you," he stammered, "have you been here long?"
Now it was my turn to stammer, "Only a few seconds," I lied, "I was just about to call out when Audrey shouted."
"Good," he said looking extremely relieved, as was I having extricated myself, albeit by lying, from an embarrassing situation.
At the pub later we were both quieter than usual Bob enquiring on several occasions about the length of time that I was outside his retreat. I kept up the pretence that it was only for a few seconds but I could tell that he didn't believe me. It was when he started to justify his actions that I was sure that he hadn't.
"I sometimes have to, you know, relieve myself, just occasionally."
I said nothing, taking a sip of my beer to disguise my discomfort.
"We don't have sex very often now, me and Audrey," he continued. Luckily we were in a secluded part of the pub as Bob unburdened himself and out of earshot of the other customers.
I took another sip of beer wishing that I was anywhere else but here, listening to him.
"Did you see what I was watching?" he asked at last. I was wondering when he would ask me that and I still didn't know what to say to him, so I took yet another sip of beer.
"You did, didn't you?" he said, for the first time looking intently at me, probably to see my reaction.
"Yes, I saw," I said at last, thinking that it was probably best to get everything into the open. We both sat silently drinking our beer, neither of us knowing what to say next. I broke the silence.
"I don't mind," I said, "I suppose most men are curious."
Bob paused as if choosing his words carefully, "I'm not just curious", he replied.
"Oh!" was all I could say for a while then, "What do you mean," although I wasn't sure I wanted to hear.
"I've sucked a cock," he announced in a low voice leaning closer towards me.
