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Although stylized for entertainment value, the first part of this story is based on actual events.
I’d like to thank Horrorotica for editing an early draft of this story. Any errors in grammar, syntax, characterization or plotting that remain are clearly the fault of the author, and no other.
After twenty-five years of marriage, things were stirring and boiling…awakening between Shannon and me. New and wonderful things that neither of us would have guessed existed, were suddenly becoming self-evident as they percolated to the surface of our relationship. Long story short, I find it ironic that the discovery of a great truth in our lives was initially brought on by the tiniest of white lies.
It’s late. Tired and thinking about going to bed, I was feeling the effects of a long day. Unfortunately, she’s doing that foot kicking thing, which means, to paraphrase Robert Frost, ‘I had miles to go before I sleep.’
She, is my wife Shannon. We’ve been married for over twenty years, and I’ve come to know most of her idiosyncrasies. The foot kicking was one of her more irritating quirks.
Whenever Shannon was mad or anxious about one thing or another, she would sit in a huff with arms folded across her chest, cross a leg at the knee, and then swing her foot it in small arcs. It always looked as though she was kicking some imaginary foe in the ass.
By the look of things, she was pissed in the extreme. Her leg pivoted like a metronome keeping prestissimo tempo—rapidly kicking someone’s behind. By her silence, I knew it was my ass she was kicking. I just didn’t know why.
“Okay, what’s wrong?”
My words acted like a Starter’s gun, sending her mouth at full sprint, “You’re writing again, aren’t you? Porn! You’re writing porn again, aren’t you? Just admit it. I want to hear you say that you’re writing porn…and not for me.”
“What makes you think that?”
She got off her chair and stopped kicking my imaginary ass long enough to hand me something she printed off our computer. I recognized what it was, immediately.
I’ve always been writing erotic stories for Shannon. I was out of town a lot due to my job, and I’d spend my evenings writing her stories. I liked to write, and I liked writing erotic fiction.
However, when I found this site, I began posting my stories for a wider readership. I still wrote her personal ones, but I also posted others she didn’t know about. I enjoy having others read what I’d written, and I got a lot of nice compliments from readers, which fueled my ego. Some readers even requested I write a personalized story patterned just for them. More than flattered by the request, I agreed.
The paper Shannon handed me is a set of questions I had fashioned for the reader. The answers to which, I would incorporate into their story, making it more personal for them. Obviously, the questions were very explicit and targeted for specific responses. I thought I had deleted the file after sending it to the reader, but somehow a copy was saved, and Shannon found it.
The fact that she found out I was posting my stories to the general public didn’t bother me that much. However, there were good reasons I kept it a secret from her, as I’ll explain later.
What did bother me was that embedded in the series of questions I sent to the reader, was the specific name of this website and my user name. I hope she didn’t go too far in her investigation.
“Okay, yes, I’m writing. I like to write. You know that.”
“Yes I do, so why did you keep this a secret from me?”
“I wasn’t sure how you’d take it that I was writing erotic stories for other people to read. I didn’t want you to freak out.”
“Keeping secrets from me freaks me out.” Pointing to the paper I still held, she asked, “Like that. What’s that, then?”
“I’m not having an affair, online or otherwise, if that’s what you’re worried about. A guy asked me to write him a story involving him and his wife. I asked him questions so that I could better pattern the story for him. That’s it.”
“I don’t like you keeping secrets. Plus, if you have to write, why can’t you just write romance novels?”
“Because, I don’t like romance novels, I find them boring. I like writing erotic…”
“Porn!” she corrected.
“Whatever Shannon, I like writing it. Besides, I never heard you complain about it before. So I’m going to keep writing erotica, or porn, or whatever it is you want to call it. Writing gives me something to do at night other than channel surf when I’m on the road.”
“If you want something to do, why don’t you read instead?”
“Because I’d rather write the stories, than read them.”
She knew I was telling the truth. Hoping I quelled her anxiety and that I could go to bed without her braining me with a club as I slept, I asked, “We good?”
She pursed her lips at my question, scrunching them up as if she just bit into something bitter. Then she snapped, “Not really. I can’t keep you from writing, but I read your stories. escort All of them…” She hesitated for a moment, before finishing her thought, “Please tell me the truth…a-are you gay?”
I guess she did investigate further. Now we come to the central reason I kept some of my writing a secret from her.
I am bisexual by nature. I’ve known this ever since I took a camping trip with two friends in high school. When I met and fell in love with Shannon, knowing that she was the person I wanted to marry, I felt it necessary to tell her about my nature and about my past.
To say she freaked was an understatement. For a week after I told her, she wouldn’t see me or return my calls. I finally confronted her outside her apartment building as she came home from work one day. There, on her front stoop, we talked for hours, and I was able to lessen her fears. Mostly, I reconfirmed my bisexuality to her, but prefaced my declaration by making it clear I was also monogamous by nature. Once I commit my love and devotion to a person, I always honor that commitment. We ended our talk by making love for the rest of the evening in her apartment. We were married two months later.
Just like that, I went from being a practicing into a nonpracticing bisexual with those two little words: I do.
I didn’t mind. Not only did I love Shannon deeply, and still do, but our times making love were the singular, most wonderful moments in our marriage. As such, I didn’t miss that other aspect of my life. Yes, I still had homoerotic fantasies, and I committed some of my youthful exploits to digital paper and posted to this website, but that was all.
However, given her previous reaction, I kept my story postings, particularly those dealing even remotely with my bisexuality, a secret from her.
Are you gay? she asked, directly and with the tenor of surprise. I thought it an odd question given what she knew about me.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re writing about…you know…gay stuff.”
“I thought we settled this a long time ago. You know I’m bisexual, and even though I’ve never been with anyone else since we’ve married, I still have fantasies about it. So, I adapted some things that happened to me before we met, and posted them for others to read. It helps me to quell some of my feelings when I write about it.”
Shannon gave me an odd look, one combining confusion and hurt. Now we come to the strangest part of our discussion.
She blurted out, angrily, “What are you talking about? This is news to me. When did we ever settle that you liked guys? I mean, you even admit it on your personal page. Bisexual, right? When were you going to tell me?”
Now, it was my turn to stare back at her in confusion. Finally, I said, “What do you mean, ‘What are you talking about?’ We’ve talked about all of this before we got married. I told you about what I’d done before we met, about Mike and Danny, and Carl and Mary. I thought I made my past and sexual nature clear to you. Don’t you remember your freak-out when you said you didn’t think you could trust me not to slide back being gay? You wouldn’t talk to me for a week.”
“I-I thought you said all that stuff happened when you were a kid…you know…playing doctor with the neighborhood boys. I don’t remember you saying it happened when you were older.”
What she said is the strangest thing I had ever heard. I don’t know the clinical term, except to call it a form of Repressed Memory, but Shannon had literally blocked from her mind most of what I had told her about my sexuality. Somehow, she transferred those events deeper into my past, making them harmless exercises. Little boys satisfying their sexual curiosity by playing, ‘you show me yours.’
I guess it was her way of dealing with a troubling issue, because she loved me and wanted to marry me. Changing my past history allowed her to move forward with me as she wanted.
It took me the better part of an hour to convince her she had her facts wrong. I think what astonished her most was that I could remain celibate about the other half of my bisexuality throughout our marriage.
Shannon asked, “So you haven’t been with a guy the whole time we’ve been married?”
“Is that so hard to believe? I haven’t been with another woman since we’ve been married, either.”
“Maybe, but I’ve enjoyed having sex with both men and women. Why should it be harder for me to stop having sex with men, but not with other women? I’ve just as many harmless sexual fantasies involving some of your saucy girlfriends as I do involving their husbands, and usually they involve both.”
She finally started lightening up, and said with a weak laugh, “Oh, don’t say that. Now I’ll be wondering who you’ve got the hots for when I see our friends.”
“The point I’m trying to make, is that like everyone in the world, I have fantasies. Mine may involve both sexes, but I would never act on either of them because I love you. I’m committed to you and our marriage, and would never do anything that would izmit escort bayan cause you pain and embarrassment. More importantly, my life with you has been every bit of wonderful, sexually and personally. Not once have I regretted marrying you, or felt I cheated myself out of something in life.”
She asked, sweetly, “No regrets? Not one?”
Kissing her, I said, laughingly, “Well, I may have regretted that time I let your mother stay with us for a week, but that’s it.”
“Don’t say that. Mom wasn’t that bad.”
When she gave me her patented Shannon smile, giggling before returning my kiss, I knew I had relieved her fears.
Holding her tight, I asked, “Are we good, now?”
She returned my hug, nodding her head in response.
“You understand that I’m the same person I was before you found out. I’m no different.”
Another silent head nod as she continued to hold me tight.
“I’m sorry for hiding my stories from you. So that there won’t be any more secrets between us, would you like to read my stories before I post them?”
Shannon nodded her head, again.
I can tell something else is wrong, but she’s reluctant to say what. Her continual silence is unusual, especially after a resolution like we had.
“What is it now, Shannon? I thought we settled things.”
She surprised me by pushing away. Standing stiffly, she stared down at the floor as she balled her hands absentmindedly into fists. It’s her usual default mode when she’s too embarrassed or anxious to reveal something of herself.
“Shannon…sweetheart…there’s nothing we can’t solve if we work together. If you still have a problem with my bisexuality, then say so. Didn’t we just agree; no secrets. Let’s get it out in the open so we can…”
“It turned me on!” she blurted.
I stared at her, while having a, What the fuck is this? moment.
I finally responded, “My stories about…”
Now I’m pissed, and said, angrily, “Then why did you just put me through the wringer, giving me the third-degree, ‘Guantanamo butt probe’ about whether I’m writing in secret, and whether I’m gay, and whether I’m whatever?”
“I don’t know. I guess I wanted to see if you’d lie to me about it. I felt hurt that you didn’t tell me. Now that we got all that other stuff out of the way, all that’s left is how it made me feel.”
“All this time, I’m thinking you’ve got some bug up your ass about anything gay. It’s subject non grata with you, verboten. I really thought mentioning it again would send you into another apoplectic freak-out. So I never even considered broaching the subject…”
Cutting off my diatribe, she apologized, “I’m so sorry about that. I really didn’t remember what happened when you told me the first time. I really feel like a dumb fucking asshole for not remembering.”
“So how long has the idea of gay sex been turning you on?”
She shrugged her shoulders before answering, “I don’t know. I never really thought about it until I read your stories.”
I couldn’t stay mad at her. Not over this. Moreover, it was difficult for me not to smile at the irony. O. Henry must be laughing his ass off from the grave.
“There’s no reason to be embarrassed or ashamed about it. A lot of women get turned on by imagining, reading…watching guys getting it on with each other. Shit, a lot of readers who favor my Gay Male stories are women. It’s the same with guys. We like to watch women getting it on with each other.”
“I sorta’, kinda’ knew that. About guys watching girls, I mean. I just didn’t think I would find two guys getting it on so hot, personally. And now that I realize those stories were about you, I’m really…”
She paused for an agonizingly long moment. Then, staring at me hard, she finished her thought, “I want to watch!”
“You. I really want to watch you with another guy.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. As I stared back at her, dumbfounded, my heart was doing backflips of joy, and if it could, it would be high-fiving my cock. I was half-way into wondering which of our male friends would let me go down on him in front of Shannon, when my cooler, more logical head finally kicked into gear.
“Are you sure about this?” I heard my head ask.
‘Of course she’s sure, moron,’ I felt my heart respond, ‘Call Todd!’
Shannon thought for a moment before answering, “Maybe…I think. I don’t know. All I know is, I was pissed you were keeping your stories a secret. Then, as I read them again, I wasn’t as much angry, as I was embarrassed and humiliated thinking that maybe I wasn’t enough for you and I wasn’t giving what you needed. By the fifth reading, all I could think about was you giving that Mike guy a blowjob in the tent.”
“Wow, you read them five times. I’m flattered.”
“Way more than that, I think.”
I smiled at her honesty, and asked, “Did you play with yourself?”
She responded with a defensive, “Shut up!” then laughed out of obvious embarrassment.
I izmit sınırsız escort smiled again at her honesty, and responded, “You understand, it will change some things in our marriage if we do this.”
“Maybe, and that’s why I’m not sure.”
“Well, we should talk about this further before we charge head long into doing something about it. I’m curious, once I tickled your imagination with guy on guy fun, did you explore it further?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, when I’m curious about something, the first thing I do is surf the Internet.”
“I don’t like watching porn, you know that. There’s no story, and after seeing endless close-ups of someone’s junk in your face, it gets kinda’ creepy. “
“So you haven’t actually watched a porn vid with two guys getting it on? Then how do you know you’ll like seeing it live?”
She thought for a moment, then said, “Well, I did get a feel for it from that show we used to watch, Spartacus. When they have two guys kissing and stuff. It kinda’ turns me on.”
“Yeah, I always thought you got off seeing Crixus’ junk,” I teased.
“Shut up! I bet you got off seeing Crixus’ junk.”
“Not half as much as thinking about you watching as I went down on Crixus’ junk.”
“Shut up!” she blurted, laughingly
“Well, Spartacus doesn’t go far enough. Right now it’s still just a naughty indulgence in your head. Before we get too deep into talking about the who’s, how’s, and when’s, maybe we should find out if you really want to watch uninhibited gay porn, especially with me as the star.”
Sitting her down in front of our computer, I called up a free, gay porn site I visited on occasion.
Shannon noted the ease I had in calling up the website. “So, you committed the address to memory, huh? How long have you been coming here…and coming?”
Now, I was embarrassed, and said in a mocking fashion, “Shut up!” After she finished laughing at my expense, I continued, “Take your time watching this stuff, and be honest with yourself. If this isn’t a total turn-on, then we should just forget about it, okay. Better to find out now, instead of…well, you know…right when I’m about to get in the act. I’ll wait for you in bed.”
“Wait! You’re not going to watch them with me?”
“Nope, it’s getting late and I have to work tomorrow. Besides, I want you to watch them on your own so you’ll be more comfortable. I know how you get when I’m watching you do stuff over your shoulder. If you know what I mean.”
“Shut up!” she said, laughingly.
Before leaving her alone, I kissed her cheek and reconfirmed my thoughts to her, “Remember, be honest with yourself about it being a turn-on. I don’t want you thinking you have to do this just for me. If you’re not one-hundred percent sure, we won’t go any further.”
I tried waiting up for her, but fell asleep, anyway.
Shannon woke me by throwing the covers back and sitting firmly in the middle of my back in reverse cowgirl fashion. Spanking my ass teasingly, I vaguely heard her say, “Wake up, sleepyhead.”
I was still groggy from sleep, but recognized that playful tone in her voice. The one she used when she was sexually aroused in the extreme. I played along, curious about where she wanted to take this, “It took you a long enough. I was wondering if you’d ever come to bed.”
Giggling, she slipped her hands beneath my underwear and began fondling my buttocks.
“I’m sorry it took so long. Such wickedly nasty videos. Once I started watching, I couldn’t stop. So many burly men like you, making love to each other. So many stiff pricks pushed in so many forbidden, manly places; more than enough to make a girl jealous. Then, I got an instant message from your boyfriend. After that, I completely lost track of time.”
Her fantasy mind’s working in overdrive, and quickly pulled me in as well. I was already hard listening to her, and continued to play along, “What did he say? He hasn’t talked to me in weeks.”
“He says he missed you, and all those little trysts of yours behind my back. You’re such a horny bad boy, keeping me from finding out about your boyfriend, and what you two do together. He wants me to tell you he really misses you sucking on his hard prick. But most of all, he really misses fucking your tight, little tushy.” Sliding my briefs down around my thighs, she spanked my bare ass as punctuation.
“Yeah, sounds like him. He always was an ass man…and a blabbermouth.”
“More than that, he has such a nice, hard dick. No wonder you love sucking on him.”
“Oh? So you’ve seen it. He’s always been an exhibitionist, but I never knew you were such a voyeur.”
“You have no idea, but we’re about to find out. I invited him over and he’s with us now.”
She began kissing the small of my back while running one of her dildos along the cleft of my buttocks.
What really surprised me about our interchange was that I’ve never known her to be this mischievously frisky in bed, nor this aggressive. She always showed a bit of reserved shyness when it came to sex, particularly when talking about sex, never getting too crude or vulgar. Now, however, she was assuming a dominant, yet playful tone, in both manner and voice that was driving me to the heights of arousal.
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