"Learning My Place" - Monday & Tuesday
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Driving home after my first gay experience in almost 40 years, I stopped at a park to compose myself. I was dazed and confused, but I had to admire the way William had set me up, how he had gotten me to relive our teenage fooling around, to relive me using my mouth on him. Step by step he had manipulated the evening, and had manipulated me. And while I was upset at being used, on the other hand, I wondered if William was right - was there really nothing to be ashamed at? Was what we did just physical body stuff? (And since it wasn't with a woman, did it even count as cheating on my wife. How's that for rationalizing?)
My wife. She was in bed when I got home. I showered and slipped in bed. "Did you have a good time," she asked sleepily.
"It was nice to reminisce." It was also nice to have a wild sexual experience, I wanted to tell her, since our marital sex was so plain and routine. Even intercourse was becoming more and more infrequent. As I lay there reliving my motel room fun I grew aroused. Had I really sucked his cock? And had I really been so submissive, kneeling on the floor while he called me a good cocksucker? The more I thought about the night, the stiffer my penis became. I waited until I heard my wife's gentle snores before I reached down to squeeze myself. Too turned-on to sleep, I slipped into the bathroom and masturbated.
In the morning I awoke to a text from William. I took my phone into the bathroom. "I have a busy schedule today. Meet me around 8. I'll text you later."
His audacity surprised me since. "Last night was a one time thing," I typed.
A minute later: "You enjoyed it too much to not continue..." A minute later came a text with a video link. "Look how much you enjoyed it. If anyone saw they would say you REALLY enjoyed it".
I made sure the volume was low and opened the video file. Shit, he had somehow recorded video of the previous night. And the clip he sent was carefully edited (how had he found the time?). It was all me. Me saying, "I want to feel you. Your hard-on." Me reaching over to touch him. Me saying, "I want to suck your cock." Me with my mouth on him. Me saying, "I want your cum. Please." Anyone seeing this would surely see how much I enjoyed the night.
"I take it I WILL see you tonight."
He wasn't technically blackmailing me, and yet wasn't he? My first reaction was anger. How could he do this to me? But knowing there was no way I could let wife and friends see this I had no choice. "I'll be there," I reluctantly texted.
But here's the strange thing: Once my anger and fear subsided, once I resigned myself to having no other option, I started rationalizing that it wouldn't be so bad. In fact, I actually started looking forward to the night. The night before I had had the best sex in months, even if it was with another man.
After work I hit the gym and had dinner with my wife. After seven I received a simple text. "8:30. Room 207."
"Have fun," my wife told me as I left the house. She was sitting in front of the TV, watching a news channel.
Driving over I wondered what William had planned for me. I envisioned him sucking me tonight, a little quid pro quid. But something about the terseness of the text - only the time and room number - gave me an uneasy feeling.
He greeted me at door in a white cotton robe. "I'm beat tonight. Long, rough day. I just need release so I can get a good night's sleep." He turned and walked towards the bed.
I stood there, flummoxed. There was no hello, no small talk, just a flat declaration that he needed 'release' and the assumption that I was here solely to provide it. He rolled into bed; his head found the pillow. He opened his robe and exposed his semi-erection. I was still at the door. He patted the mattress, as if prodding a puppy. "Come."
Half-stunned I approached the foot of the bed and took in the sight of him. He looked ... manly. His physique, his muscles, his hairy chest, his five o'clock stubble. He looked like someone who commanded respect, who deserved to be serviced. And his manner tonight proved his superiority over me. He acted as if I was nothing more than a servant. Who was I to disagree?
Still dazed, I knelt on the mattress. He spread his legs to give me room. I lowered myself, rested on my elbows, and gripped his cock with my right hand. Tonight I was more clear headed so I was able to fully examine his cock. I noticed the veins on the base, the smoothness on the head, a mottled scar on the underside. I noticed the different textures in different places. I tried to compare it to my own penis. And as it firmed up I used my left hand to fondle his testicles. "That feels good," he told me.
Working up a mouthful of spit, I let a long river of saliva drip down to lubricate him. Palming the base of his cock, I twisted my hand around it, back and forth, back and forth. I stroked him for about a minute before lowering my mouth on him.