Man for Man

Better Late Than Never



Two men, the only patrons of a London Hotel's cocktail lounge, sat in the corner booth. It was nearing midnight, the piano player had finished his last set and gone home, and the lone bartender was busily restocking his beer cooler. The older man, about 50 with grey hair but an otherwise much younger looking body thanks to an exercise regimen, was the Vice President of Marketing for a mid-sized supplier to the aircraft industry in St. Louis. The younger man, in his early 20's and a veritable vision of virile manhood, had founded his own company. The two men had been meeting for two days to discuss the integration of the two firms' products after the amicable acquisition of the younger man's company by the larger firm. William Bartlett (Bill), the older man, had convinced his Board of Directors to purchase the small British company and, six month ago, had approached the younger man, Ian Shepard, with an offer. During negotiations, Bill learned that Ian was eager to sell his company, take the proceeds, and launch another company in a different field. That made negotiation easy but the real catalyst was the immediate liking that each man took to the other. Bill admired Ian's energy, creativity, and sense of purpose. Bill tried to convince Ian to take a job in the merged company but Ian was firmly committed to working independently. Ian admired Bill's business sense and found it no surprise that he had achieved such success. There was also a personal compatibility between the two. They shared many interests and each was eager to learn more about those interests that they did not have in common. Both were hard drivers when talking business but both had a relaxed, amiable side when business was finished. It was the latter situation as they nursed what they had agreed would be the final drink of the evening in the Hotel Lounge.


Let Bill tell his story ....


Just as part of a pleasantly cordial conversation, Ian commented, "You've mentioned your two sons but you haven't mentioned your wife."

"Shiela?" I responded. "She was killed by a drunk driver some five years ago."

"I'm sorry," Ian said sincerely. "It must have been very difficult for you."

"Not really," I admitted. "The boys were already out on their own and my wife and I had ... shall we say, grown apart. We shared an address and were civil to each other but we each led our own lives except for the obligatory social functions connected with my job or hers."

"That's sad."

"How about you. I know you're single but I'm sure you have one or more lovely girls in your life."

I detected a worried expression crossing his face. Finally, he smiled and said, "I guess that's one more thing you don't know about me. I'm gay. I came out two years ago."

"I would never have guessed," I said, suddenly realizing how moronic my comment was.

"Why? Because I'm not effeminate?"

His tone was not at all confrontational but, rather, just another example of the candor that he had demonstrated since we first met. Still, I felt I had to justify my thoughtless comment.

"No, it's not that. I guess I just never thought about it. Your personal life, I mean. I know I'm from another generation but I recognize that stereotypes are inaccurate and dangerous. I try to recognize talents in people -- and you've got plenty of them -- and I try to leave irrelevant details out."

Ian sipped his drink before asking, "So do you think less of me now that you know?"

"Quite the contrary, Ian. I admire you all the more for having the courage to come out. It must have been difficult for you."

"The biggest difficulty was in my teens, knowing who I was and not able to be who I am. You see, I've known since puberty that I was different. I consoled myself with the false hope that it would pass. By 15 or so, I knew it wouldn't. Life in the closet is hell. Sure, coming out presents a few problems with a few people. But life in the open is a vast improvement."

"It wasn't like that when I was your age. We either conformed to society's expectations or we were labeled queer. The queers were constantly tormented."

"Unfortunately," he replied, "there's still too much intolerance, even today."

"A toast to tolerance," I said as I raised my glass. We tapped our glasses together, sipped our nearly empty drinks, and Ian grew pensive. He raised his eyes to capture mine and asked, "So, Bill, you chose to conform?"

I was temporarily confused by his question owing, no doubt, to the several drinks I had consumed. "Conform?" I asked.

"Yes," he replied, with his gaze still locked on my face. "Did you decid to conform to the socially acceptable spite of your real interests?"

His blunt question stunned me and my mind raced for an answer. I could lie and say that I was straight. I had been doing that for decades and it had become second nature to me. If I lied, I could stay safely in the closet. The alternative would be to admit, for the first time to anyone, that I was gay. That would raise the potential danger of unacceptable consequences to my life and my career. In spite of the sometimes difficult negotiations that took on an almost adversarial tone, Ian and I had developed a rapport. Each stage of the negotiations seemed to bolster a sense of mutual trust. Still, I was not ready to divulge my secret.

Fortunately, the bartender arrived to announce, "Last call for drinks, gentlemen. I have to stop serving at midnight." That gave me time to consider how to respond to Ian's question.

Ian and I agreed to have one more round. As the bartender left, I had still not decided how to respond to Ian's question. He sensed my discomfort and, no doubt, took it as evidence that his suspicion was correct.

"That was an unfair question, Bill. I apologize. You don't have to answer."

"It wasn't unfair. It just took me by surprise. But it deserves an answer. I married just out of college. We had two children. I've never had an affair with a man or, for that matter, a woman other than my wife. I've led a straight life." Unconsciously, I phrased my response ambiguously, in a way that reflected the facade of "respectability" that had become second nature to me yet did not deny my basic urges.


Ian gave me a slight but perceptible smile. "You've led a straight life." he echoed, focusing on the evasiveness of my answer. He smiled just a little more and added, "But living straight isn't the same as being straight, is it?"

It was subtle but he was pressing for a more direct answer. I could still deny my long-suppressed longings by insisting that I was not gay. Or I could gather my courage and be honest with someone I liked, respected, and -- more importantly -- someone who would understand my feelings. To gain time to form a response, I finished the last few sips of my drink.

"You know, don't you?" I said as I felt my face flush.

"You haven't told me so," he replied, "but, yes, I think I know."

Gratefully, the bartender interrupted again to serve our drinks, which gave me more time to regain my composure.

"But you're not sure?" I asked.

"Reasonably sure," he replied.

Ian gave me a warm smile, which told me he fully understood my anguish. I felt simultaneously vulnerable for having my feelings exposed and strangely relieved that, at long last, I could share them with someone I respected and trusted, someone who would accept and not condemn.

I felt compelled to ask, "How long have you known?"

"I suspected it almost from the day we met. I know it's trite but it takes one to know one. Some people call it gaydar and think it's some magical power that gay men have. I don't accept that but one can develop a skill of recognizing very subtle cues. It's not fool-proof so another skill comes into play. One sends signals that are, on the surface, very innocent but another man's reaction can be very telling."

I had always suspected that what he was telling me was true but I had no idea what the cues were or how a gay man signals his interest. "And you've detected clues in my behavior?" I asked.

"It's the way you look at me -- all very discrete and invisible to the casual observer, of course, but apparent to those of us who do the same thing. It's also what you don't do. You don't look at women for as long or in the same way that most men do. Take my secretary, for example, a real beauty. Most men will ogle. Some will be unusually friendly to her. You treated her as the competent assistant that she is. And there is the waiter who brought our drinks. Most men would look at a waiter's face with only the briefest glance at his upper body but your eyes fell to his crotch and stayed there just a little too long. And when he walked away, you looked ever so briefly at his ass. It's all very subtle, of course, but many gay men notice because we do the same thing. And we've learned to notice others doing it."

"My God," I blurted out. "Does that mean that other gay men have noticed?"

"Almost certainly. At least the openly gay men who have come to terms with their orientation. But there are lots of closet gays like yourself who are trapped in a straight life. They're not likely to pick up on the clues. As I said, they're very subtle. Straight guys never notice. In fact, a lot of straights think they can spot a gay man but almost always for the wrong reason. They think artists are gay, sentimental men are gay, flashy dressers are gay. That's all pure bull shit. Real gays, open gays, can recognize the real signs."

Ian paused, giving me time to absorb what he had said. Then he said, "I would guess that you've never been hit on by a gay."

"No," I replied but, upon thinking about it, added. "Or at least I don't think so."

"That's probably because you've been living straight. You're not a... well...a likely target. Gays who want a committed relationship will seek it from somebody who is more likely to respond to their advances. And the gays who interested only in gratifying their urges are even less likely to waste their time with someone who is living straight."

I began to recall men I had known and worked with, men I met at various social functions, men who may have been, like me, gay but living straight. To my surprise, several incidents came to mind. Most of them were in the locker room or shower at the gym. Then, the light came on. "Tom!" I blurted out without thinking.


"Tom?" Ian asked.

"The IT manager for my company," I answered and realized that I would have to explain. " We often go to the gym at the same time. Initially, he was very friendly. He always seemed to want to chat while I was dressing but he stayed naked. Right there in front of me! He suggested stopping for a drink on the way home. Is that the kind of thing that would make you suspect he's gay?"

"Yes, but it's not enough evidence to be sure. It may be just a friendly straight guy. Or it could be a gay who is casting bait. To be sure which it is, you would have to take the bait -- respond in some manner to take it to the next level."

I then frantically searched my memory to recall how I acted when Tom was being so friendly. To my regret, I realized that I had tried to be polite and uninterested but I'm afraid I looked too long. Who wouldn't? He's strikingly handsome, has a perfect body and impressive equipment.

"I guess I'll have to be more careful. I would hate to give a signal to somebody that I didn't intend to give."

"Or," Ian counseled, "You might want to give that signal if you wanted to verify the guy's intentions and to explore a possible relationship."

I pondered Ian's comment for a while and then said, "It's like high school dating except the rules, the language, the techniques are different."

Ian laughed. "I wouldn't have made that comparison but it's essentially on the mark."

Suddenly, the potential consequences of outing myself to Ian sprang to mind.

"There's only two people on the planet, Ian, that know: me and now you. I'm sure I can trust you to keep the information strictly confidential. Besides my career, there could be very serious consequences for my company and its stockholders."

"Believe me, I know what it's like to live in the closet and I would never ... and I mean never ... betray your trust."


We sat silently for a few minutes. I was mentally exploring the potential ramifications of outing myself to Ian while he was patiently giving me time to reassemble my thoughts.

"I suppose we build our own closets," I began.

"What do you mean?"

"My closet, like yours, was a closet. Dark. Confining. Sometimes almost suffocating. But my closet was different. You may have had family and friends that couldn't accept you as an openly gay man. But I had a wife, children, and a far more prudish social climate. You had the courage to come out. And, may I say, the good fortune to live in a somewhat more liberal culture. As a young man, my world was intolerant. And I don't have your courage, even now, to come out me."

Ian looked pensively at me before saying, "Nearly 50 years! And in all that time, you've never fully met your needs!"

"No sympathy!" I said with much more emphasis than I had intended. "I chose the life I've led. And there have been more than a few high spots along the road: my sons, even some enjoyable sex with my wife, at least early in our marriage."

"But never any sex with a man?"

"Ian! You do ask some awkward questions, don't you?" I joked.

He laughed but only politely. Pressing for an answer, he rephrased his question. "Except for your late wife, then, you could call yourself a virgin?"

"I've already told you I've never had an affair with another woman ... or a man."

Another slight smile appeared on Ian's face. "I've already broken the rules of social conversation with some of my questions but I have another. It may sound far too bold so you don't have to answer but if you do answer, I'd like a completely honest answer. Is that OK with you?"

I had no idea what the question would be but, since he agreed to let me decline to answer, I replied. "OK. If I answer, it will be the truth."

"Here's the question. Think about it before answering if you want. Would you let me introduce you to the joy of man to man sex?"

I couldn't believe what he seemed to be proposing -- a sexual liaison -- and, without thinking, I blurted out, "What?"

"You've never had a man. I'm offering myself. For just one night. But it will be a night you'll never forget."


His offer was totally in character: gather information, assess benefits and risks, and then act decisively. It's what made him such a blazing star in building his business.

Part of me wanted to scream, YES. He was, after all, the personification of my ideal companion--bright, honest, amiable, and he had a stunning physique. Another part of me, a part that had been strengthened through years of self-discipline and denial, wanted to tactfully decline the offer. I debated with myself while Ian patiently waited.

"I agreed to give an honest answer or none at all. Well, here's my answer. I appreciate your offer immensely. And I accept gratefully. It will be the fulfillment of my fondest hope. But with one condition: that neither of us will speak of what happens to anyone, ever."

"Agreed. I understand -- fully -- that whatever we do together tonight must remain private, must never jeopardize your career or your life. We can enjoy each other and you can be absolutely sure that I won't say anything that would cause you any trouble."

The thought of sharing a bed with a handsome young man surpassed my most optimistic hopes. I could return to my reasonably happy but carefully controlled life style and treasure the memories of at least one night of bliss. Having dispelled fears of exposing my orientation to others, I had one last concern.

"Ian, I'm grateful beyond words for your offer. There's nothing in the world I want more. But, as I said before, I don't want sympathy. I don't want your offer to be just a charitable gesture to an old man."

Ian laughed again. "Bill, I'm sorry that you've not been able to meet your needs and, to be candid, I would like to give you something that you need but never had. That much, I suppose, is charity and perhaps a little sympathy. But that's a very small reason for my offer. I've seen you check me out but my guess is that you haven't seen me checking you out. You're more than twice my age but, believe me, you're very attractive. You've got a warm, honest personality. You're bright and perceptive. You're confident but not cocky. And, let's be honest, you've got a hot body that I'd like to explore."

"Flattery will get you anything," I joked. Shall we go upstairs to my room?"


Another man joined Ian and I on the elevator. I suppose I was overly self-conscious but I hoped that he would get off on another floor and not see Ian going into my room. I pressed the button for my floor; the stranger just watched and then stood back. He was going to the same floor! As the elevator door opened, I motioned for the stranger to exit first and stepped into the hallway. Pretending to search all my pockets for my key-card, I stood there hoping the stranger would disappear around the corner, leaving Ian and I to enter my room unseen.

When the stranger had gone, Ian remarked, "Calm down, Bill. That guy would have thought nothing about the two of us going into a room together. If he noticed anything, it would be how nervous you seem to be."

"Is it that obvious?" I asked.

"Maybe only to me," Ian assured me. "I noticed it because it was so out of character for a confident, successful person like yourself. And I understand your nervousness but let me assure you, we won't do anything that you're not comfortable with."

His assurance and his supportive smile helped a lot. I inserted my key-card, opened the door, and motioned for him to go inside. Once inside, I felt confused, unsure of how to start or, for that matter, what to do after starting. Ian brought me back to reality with, "Your message light is blinking. Why don't you see what it is while I take a leak?"

The two messages from my office were inconsequential and I sat in a chair still unsure of what to do. It was not long before he emerged from the bathroom and sat in the other chair.

"This is all unfamiliar territory to me," I confessed. "I'm not sure how one goes about ... know."

Ian's sparkling laugh didn't make me feel more stupid. Rather, it seemed to convey a message of simple amusement.


"We can do whatever you want, Bill. And not do what you're uncomfortable with. Why not just do what you've always wanted to do if you had the chance. Live your fantasies. Take charge. You call the shots and set the pace. This is your night. I'm here just to enjoy whatever happens."

"But I'm not really sure of what to do. I'm afraid of doing something wrong or stupid."

"Just live your fantasies. Do what you've always wanted to do. And don't worry about making any mistakes. The only mistake would be not to do something you've wanted to do or not take full advantage of the situation."

"I'd like to undress you," I said, hoping that my request did not sound too sophmoric.

"That's a good start. I like to undress guys the first time I'm with them."

He rose from his chair and stood between me and the bed. I stood and began to unbutton his shirt. I knew that the real goal was to see, to feel, to suck his cock but I wanted the experience to last so I took my time with each button. He wore a tight undershirt that revealed much of the contours of his firm torso and, prominently, his two nipples in the center of gently rounded pecs. I felt his nipples through the cotton cloth briefly before removing his shirt.

Temporarily impatient, I removed his undershirt quickly. A man's torso is a common sight -- at the beach, in the gym, lots of places in summer. Seeing one as youthful, solidly muscular, and tanned to a gentle bronze is more rare but still relatively common. But to see Ian's perfectly formed chest and abdomen -- and knowing that I could touch, rub, caress it -- was heavenly.

I put my trembling hands on his shoulders, brought them down across his chest, and circled them to the sides and slid them down to a slim, solid waist. All of this caused my heart to race, pumping blood into my cock where it stayed and began to engorge my tingling dick.

I knelt down in front of Ian. I unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned the waistband, and pulled the zipper down. I was getting close to my goal but deliberately moved slowly to prolong the anticipation and pleasure. His pants fell to around his ankles to reveal muscular legs covered lightly with dark hair. Now there was only white cotton boxers between me and what I craved to see, to feel, to taste. A slight bulge told me he was not yet hard but that he had an admirably large cock.

I felt his flaccid cock under his boxers, tactically explored it, and confirmed that the width and length was impressive. Placing my thumbs under the waistband of his boxers, I slowly pulled them down. A trail of short, soft, curly hair dove from his navel down toward his crotch.

I recall thinking at this point that Ian's body fit my concept of the ideal male almost perfectly. His chest was smooth, firm, muscular with only a bare trace of dark hair arcing from one nipple to the other. His abdomen was flat and descended flawlessly toward the pubic area. A trace of hair blazed a trail downward into his boxers. My ideal male figure has relatively narrow hips and his butt cheeks are on the smaller side of average. I knew, even from seeing him clothed, that his hips and ass met my criterion but I reached around to confirm it. Two ample hands-full of ass cheek were just right. I couldn't believe my luck - to have an opportunity for man-to-man sex and with a young man that was my dream man personified. Just two more features of what I regarded as the ideal male form were yet to be assessed. I had discovered that he was generously endowed with an impressively large cock but, to be perfect, it should not be butchered by circumcision. The second ideal feature to be checked was a hairless ass crack and pucker.

As I pulled down the boxers, a profuse bush of curly black hair came into view. It was as though my fantasized ideal had been incarnated. I couldn't help myself. I buried my nose into his pubic hair and drew in the scent of manhood.

I pulled the boxers down further and found, to my great delight, an uncut cock hanging in front of a pendulous scrotum with clearly visible, plum-sized balls.


I had, by this time, exhausted my patience and abandoned the deliberately slow process of disrobing my young Adonis. As he sat on the end of the bed, I quickly removed his shoes, socks, trousers, and boxers. As if on automatic pilot, I took his gorgeous cock into my mouth and lost myself in the joy of savoring it. Before long, it was longer, fatter, and harder than I had expected. I could only get about half of it into my mouth but I worked on that half with my mouth and tongue while one hand was caressing his balls and the other hand was stroking the base of his cock.

I was ecstatically enjoying myself for I don't know how long but brought to my senses with a hand on my shoulder and a voice saying, "Hold off, my friend. I'm about to cum and I want this to last a while longer."

I looked up and saw Ian's face smiling down at me.

"For someone who's never done this before, you have a wonderful technique. I confess I expected to have to tell you to use your lips and not your teeth."

"I suppose I learned something from the stories on the internet," I said sheepishly.

"You sure did. You brought me almost to climax. Let me work on you while my cock cools a bit."

Ian then undressed me, repeating and adding to the process I had used on him. When my trousers came down, he commented, admiringly I think, "From this very large wet spot on your briefs, I'd say you're pretty aroused."

"I can't remember being more aroused," I confessed.

When my boner felt the cool air, the tingling increased and it quivered. But that was nothing compared to the sensation when Ian began to gently lick my balls and the underside of my cock. I felt that I might cum as his tongue reached my sensitive cock head and he flicked it with his tongue several times. When his warm, moist lips surrounded my cock, I groaned in pleasure. In no time at all, I knew that I was on the brink and I could do nothing to hold it back. I yelled a warning to Ian, "I'm going to cum! I've got to cum! Now!"

My warning was met by a firmer grasp of my cock in Ian's mouth, by a gentle squeeze of my balls, and clear evidence that he intended to take my cream into his throat.

Wave after wave of intense sensation radiated from my cock throughout my entire body as spurt after spurt erupted from my cock. It was the most electrifying, satisfying, debilitating orgasm I had ever experienced.

I could only lie there while I came down from the most exhilarating experience of my life. I felt paralyzed except that I could feel my heart pounding and my lungs panting for air. Ian laid down beside me and cuddled up to me with one hand gently rubbing my chest and stomach. I never felt so close to anyone, including my wife. I was never so grateful nor had such thoroughly satisfying sex.

"That was magnificent," I said when I could finally talk.

"I could tell you liked it," Ian replied jokingly.

When I had my strength back and without any comment, I moved down to Ian's now semi-hard cock. I examined it visually and tactilly, burning the image and feeling into my memory for later recall. My fondling soon brought back his erection and I used my tongue on his cock as he had done on mine. When he started to moan, I took his cock into my mouth, held his balls, and brought him to orgasm. His hot cream hit the back of my throat in at least three strong volleys while he groaned with pleasure.


We cuddled together for a while, crotch to crotch with our legs intertwined before Ian said, "If I didn't know this was your first time, I'd think you were experienced."

"Kind of you to say that, even if it's an exaggeration. I guess I learned more from the Internet than I thought."

"You surf the gay sites, do you?"

"When I have time. But I try to be careful, only on my home computer, and never at a pay site for fear of leaving a trail."

"I used to but found the real thing is far better," Ian remarked.

"That raises a question," I said. "You don't have to answer but I'd like to ask. How much chance do you get? For real sex, I mean."

"Not much right now. My lover and I split about three weeks ago; he was transferred to India. We had been together for just over a year and had sex maybe four or five times a week. Since he left -- until tonight -- I've had to satisfy myself in, shall we say, a solo performance."


"You must miss him a lot."

"Yes, I do. But, to be truthful, there were signs that we were -- how did you put it when describing your marriage? -- we were growing apart."

"I hope you find someone else," I offered weakly.

"I think I may have, in fact. An airline pilot, would you believe. We've had a couple of dates. No sex yet but it looks promising."

"No one-night-stands? Wait. That's none of my business. Don't answer."

Ian looked at the ceiling as if recalling various partners or deciding whether to answer me.

"A few. Years ago. Before I came out. But here's a funny thing. They seemed dirty and selfish as I look back on them. By contrast, tonight is not that way at all. Sure, it's a one-nighter. We're both in it for the pleasure of the moment. But -- I can't explain why -- it seems so right." Ian was pensive for a few more moments and added, "With my partner, it was love. Sex was a part of the love. The sex is over since he left, of course, but there's still the memory of the sex ... and the love."

Ian fell silent. I could think of nothing to say in response. I simply snuggled more tightly into him and gave him a hug.

Soon thereafter, Ian spoke up. "No offense, my friend, but I think we both need a shower."

Without thinking, I asked, "You want to take the first shower?"

Ian gave me an incredulous look and then laughed. "I'd hoped you would join me."

Then I laughed at myself and admitted, "Sorry. I told you I'm new at this sort of thing."

He took the lead in the shower, carefully washing each part of my body and leaving my crotch for a final, attentive soaping, which, of course, brought me to a full erection. I was not completely surprised when he kneeled down and sucked me to another satisfying orgasm. The hot water streaming down my back while his able hands and mouth stimulated my cock was a sensation that I had never imagined.

I duplicated his performance but probably spent less time on the unimportant body parts and much longer on his gorgeous cock that, eventually, responded as mine had. He rewarded me with another mouthful of creamy juice.

We dried each other off and returned to the bed. It was after 3:00 in the morning but neither of us, it seemed, was sleepy. We snuggled together on the bed wordlessly for several minutes. My contentment was indescribable with his young, strong body next to mine and our naked flesh pressed together,

I broke the silence with embarrassingly profuse thanks for his fulfilling my dreams.

"We both enjoyed it, Bill. You more than me, no doubt. It was not that long ago that I spent my first night with a man and I think I know how you feel. Let's just leave it at that. No more 'thanks for the good time.' OK?"

"But I really ..."

Ian cut me off. "I know. I know. I'm delighted that you're happy. And rest assured, I'm happy, too."


Several more wordless minutes passed.

"Bill, when's your plane leave for the States in the morning?"


"Are you all packed and ready?"

"Yes, why?"

"I was thinking that, let's see. It's almost four. You'll have to leave by, say, eight to catch your flight. That gives us four more hours together."

The prospect of ending such a wonderful experience depressed me.

Ian then added, "Four hours. You can catch a little sleep or we can maybe think of some way to spend the time."

"That's a no-brainer," I replied.

Ian grinned broadly. "Remember, I said you could do anything you wanted? And not do anything that you would be uncomfortable with?"


"You've tried oral sex. How do you feel about anal sex?"

"I'd very much like to try it."

"Top or bottom? Or should I translate?"

"I suppose I'd prefer top but I very much want to try both."

"Great. Think you can get it up again?"

"I'm sure I can ... if you help me along a little."

"Well," Ian said, "Let's see what we can do."

He moved to a 69 position and we both got a mouthful of meat. It didn't take long. Ian's youth meant that his cock was very responsive and my horniness brought me to an erection soon after.

"I don't suppose you have any KY." Ian inquired.


"No. I was not prepared for this."

"That's OK. Saliva works almost as well. Lube me up with a generous dose of saliva and ..."

"Wait. You said to tell you if I was uncomfortable doing something. Rimming is out of bounds. Sorry."

"That's not what I meant," he chuckled. "You can spit, can't you?"

Ian rolled over on his stomach, drew his knees up under his hips and raised his butt. "Just loosen me up with a finger or two and then fuck me."

I spread his ass cheeks and saw moderately thick hair surrounding his hole. It was the only deviation from my mental image of the ideal male body but a minor one. My cock is average size at best but still I wondered whether it could be squeezed into that tightly shut opening. My fears were short-lived as I massaged the puckered opening and it readily yielded to the stimulation. In almost no time, I was finger fucking him with two fingers.

I applied another dose of saliva before bringing the head of my cock to his waiting hole. It was awkward, I was clumsy, but eventually my cock slid into the warmth of his hole, accompanied by satisfied moans from Ian.

As I fucked him, I experienced the different feel of my cock in an ass. It was similar to but unlike my cock in a cunt or in a mouth. I honestly can't say which is better but sliding my cock in and out of a handsome stud's hole was tremendously arousing.

When I came, I almost lost my balance but kept my pulsing cock in him until it started to deflate and finally popped out. I fell back onto the bed, glowing with contentment. Ian joined me, pressing his body into my side and casually toying with my nipples.

A thought crossed my mind and I had to chuckle.

"What's funny?" Ian asked.

"I was just thinking that I've had three orgasms in just a few hours. I don't think I've ever done that, even as a young man."

"It is unusual," Ian commented. "But it's probably due to your arousal. And I'll take that as a compliment."

"As well you should," I said emphatically. "These few hours have been, well, beyond description."

"I've enjoyed it immensely as well. I always enjoy sex, of course, but, I have to confess, Bill, that seeing how much you enjoyed it gave me a sort of satisfaction I've never had before."

I couldn't help it. I gave Ian a big hug followed by a light kiss on the forehead.

"You call that a kiss?" Ian exclaimed. Let me show you what a real one is like."

Our mouths met, our tongues probed and danced, and I added another very pleasant sensation to my memory of man-to-man contact. As we kissed, my hand fell idly down to Ian's crotch where I found his semi-flaccid cock.

Breaking off the kiss, I asked, "Would you like to take my ass?"

"I thought you'd never ask," Ian joked.


Ian rolled me over onto my stomach and began to lubricate my hole generously with saliva. Very soon, I felt a finger slipping into my ass and completely enjoyed the sensation. Then I felt a second finger join the first as my sphincter relaxed and expanded. To my surprise, I felt a third finger slip in beside the other two. I began to wonder why stories of anal sex usually mentioned the pain of penetration. But then I realized that Ian was experienced and was doing everything right to avoid hurting me.

I felt the fingers slip out and then another pressure, which was no doubt Ian's cock pushing into me. Very gradually, I felt it slid in. I felt the first small pain as my ass hole expanded even further to accommodate Ian's sizable rod. Slowly, the pain subsided and I felt his cock dive into the darkness of my bowels.

Then, unexpectedly, a torrent of sensations enveloped my cock, my balls, my crotch, my whole body. I moaned loudly. Doctors had produced a similar sensation when they palpated my prostrate but this was infinitely stronger and seemed to put me into orbit. Ian's masterful skill continued to stimulate me until I thought I would pass out. With the remnants of consciousness, I noticed that he had increased the pace and force of his fucking and, with one final jab deep inside me, he stopped. He cried out softly and I knew he was filling me with creamy, sperm-laden semen.


Simultaneously, I was completely overtaken by the unmistakable sensations of an orgasm.

Ian collapsed on top of me and we took our time coming down from our mutual climax.

A few moments later, I felt Ian's soft cock slip out of my ass and he rolled over to lay beside me.

Having regained my strength, I said, "I've heard about an anally induced orgasm but I never quite believed it was possible. Now I know it is. And that it's marvelous."

Ian grinned and said, "I'm genuinely pleased that it happened. It's not very common. I've had a few but I think most guys don't know what it's like. Or how to make it happen."

A few minutes later, Ian glanced at the beside clock. "It's 6:30. There's just time enough to shower, grab breakfast, and get you a cab to Heathrow."

"God!" I said. "How I wish we had more time together."

"We both know that's not possible. You're flying back to the States and I'm off to start a new company here. And remember, I said it would be only one night."

"You also said it would be a night I'd never forget. You were right about that. I'll remember what you did for me forever."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it. I'm glad to have been able to introduce you to the joys of gay sex. I enjoyed the sex but also enjoyed seeing you so happy. Now come on, let's get cleaned up and on our way."

"Ian," I said.


"I'd like to shower together again but, frankly, I don't think I have another load in me. I don't know if I can even get it up again."

Ian laughed and said, "I think I'm spent as well. But it makes sense to shower together ... just to save water, you know."

We both laughed and headed into the bathroom.

Ian soaped and lathered me and - I was right - I couldn't get it up.

I soaped and lathered Ian giving special attention to his magnificent cock and balls. To my surprise, his cock responded by beginning to swell.

"Ah, the resilience of youth," I sighed. "Can I give you a parting kiss?"

Ian chuckled and I gave his semi-hard cock a long gentle kiss.

After breakfast in the Hotel, we walked through the lobby to the front door. As the doorman was hailing a cab, I turned to Ian and had the urge to give him a goodbye kiss but, of course, couldn't and didn't. All I could do was say, "Thanks. For everything."

"My pleasure," he said - in a tone that spoke far more than the trite words could mean.


The long trans-Atlantic flight gave Bill plenty of time to re-live his one night of fulfillment, to regret not having been able to truly enjoy sex until now, and to consider what the future might hold in store for him.

Three months later, Bill asked Tom, the IT guy at work, if he would like to stop for a drink on the way home from the gym. Tom agreed. In the two weeks that followed, they proceeded through incremental steps that led to a mutually satisfying relationship. Neither was willing to come out publicly but both discretely enjoyed each other's company on frequent occasions.

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In fictional stories it is fine to have sex without condoms, but in reality you should always use a rubber, regardless if you use Prep or not. Prep only protects for HIV, thats why other diaseases spread among Prep users that practice bareback sex.