I had almost fallen asleep when, to my horror, I felt Max snuggle close to me, put his arms around me. Was he asleep? I couldn't tell. He moved even closer, and I could feel his cock against my ass, and it was semi-hard. Shit! What was I going to do?
Max was my boss, Area Sales Manager for the corporation that owned the sporting goods store I managed in Ohio. He was a big guy, a body builder type, and an ex-wrestler. He had made the arrangements for this Wisconsin sales meeting, which is why I was in a king size bed with him. He had picked me to room with him. Earlier, he'd paid for my dinner, filet mignon and an incredible French red wine, a vintage Bordeaux, and later, drinks at the bar. Single malt Scotch.
Beyond doubt, Max was taking a special interest in me. Could I be moving up the corporate ladder?
Or were the rumors about Max being gay true?
I felt his cock against me, almost fully erect now, and big.
"Jack, are you awake?" he asked.
"Max, I'm married," I said.
"So am I," he murmured. "I'm also bi, and you're a hunk."
"Look."
"I'm going to fuck you, Jack. Get used to it."
I went cold all over. I was pretty buff, but Max was much bigger and obviously strong as an ox.
I felt him pull my boxers down with one hand, while another arm held me in a vise. Something cold and greasy--lube--was being spread over my anus, and then none too gently pushed inside.
"Dammit, Max!" I yelled.
"Hush."
The head of his cock probed my ass hole, gradually insinuating itself inside me. It hurt. I felt myself being stretched, and cried out, but suddenly his glans penis was all the way in, and the pain subsided a little. Slowly, as if feeling its way, the shaft of his cock followed the glans in, an inch at a time. The lube helped. I shivered. It wasn't hurting much at all now. He was all the way in, and began moving, rocking, in and out. I was being fucked. By a man.
I resigned myself to it. It was a sensation like nothing I'd experienced before, not really that unpleasant once I adjusted to what was happening. Shame and guilt washed over me. That was the worst part. I no longer felt manly; I felt like a woman being raped. I hated it!
And yet, my own cock was starting to betray me by getting harder and harder as the forceful thrusts continued, and there was no doubt that I had become aroused. Nor that what had started with pain was now filling me with pleasure! Oh, God, I was liking this! It felt...wonderful.
"You're going to cum, Jack," Max whispered. "That means you're turned on. You're mine now. You want it."
He pumped harder and harder, grunting and puffing, and suddenly I was moving toward one of the most powerful orgasms I'd ever had. I couldn't stop it, nor did I want to. I felt Max explode inside me, and a torrent of cum shot from my cock, which hadn't been touched. The release ws exquisite, as I felt the thick shaft withdraw from my ass, and we both lay panting on the bed, exhausted.
"Was that so bad?" Max asked, a touch of humor in his tone.
I couldn't speak. I was blushing all over. Shame and excitement fought for control over my senses.
"Lie back," Max said. "I'm going to suck your dick."
He took me into his mouth, my cock still swollen and tender, working his way up and down my shaft, and it was the best blowjob I'd ever had. I surprised myself by, at length, cumming again, and Max surprised me by swallowing it.
"We're going to be very good friends," he said. "Let's have a drink to celebrate."
He cracked open a bottle of Scotch from the bar, which we drank from plastic bathroom glasses, laughing and talking like old friends, which by then we were. There was no embarrassment left in me, or capacity for anger. We got thoroughly drunk and talked about many things, such as the fact that Max, while still married, wasn't living with his wife, who had got sick of his shit and headed for parts unknown, and the fact that he'd once met my wife, Marcie, and thought her really good looking and sexy.
"Let's have a 3-way," he suggested. "I really want to fuck your wife."
In the wee hours, drunk, it didn't bother me. Later, I worried. Was it liquor talking, or had he meant it? Max lived in St. Louis, a good piece from Ohio. I tried to put it out of my mind. The conference lasted three days, and Max fucked me every night, and sometimes sucked me, but wouldn't let me fuck him.
"I'm a top," he said. "You're a bottom. I love fucking you, man."
"I love being fucked," I admitted.
Never in a million years would I have thought those words would ever come out of my mouth.
It was true, though. I loved being man-fucked, and I was going to have to find some other gay man to do me regularly when I got home. I still loved women, and sex with Marcie was always going to come first, but I had changed, and I knew it. And liked knowing it.
When I got home from Wisconsin, the first thing Marcie noticed was that I walked funny.
"Too many days sitting on my ass," I told her.
My wife looked scrumptious, good enough to eat, And I did eat her, that night. She moaned and gasped with pleasure, and I had a pang of pure guilt over my affair with Max. Cheating was cheating, after all.
But as the days went by, I thought more and more about having sex with a man. There had to be some gay people around! I had to be careful, though. I couldn't let Marcie find out what I had become.
