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Hmm…. Which category to post under? Group sex, loving wives, anal? This story could have gone in any of those but, as I’ve seen very similar tales in Gay Male, and, in the end it’s about exploring one’s gay side, that is where I’m going to post.
“They’re doing cookery classes down at the local college. I think I might give them a go,” Trish said, looking up from reading the Evening Gazette, our local paper.
“The last thing you need is cookery classes,” I replied with some feeling. Trish is the best cook I’ve ever met; that’s one of the many reasons I married her.
“I don’t need to learn how to boil an egg but they’re offering an advanced course on Mediterranean cooking. It will be fun to learn something new.”
“I’m certainly not going to stop you going if that’s what you want. I may even have to force myself into helping test the results from time to time. It’s good, but is it fine dining?” I said, mimicking Michel Roux Jnr. from Masterchef, a program she’s keen on.
“The course is on Wednesday nights, seven ’till nine, so on those nights you’ll have to fend for yourself for a while.”
“The things I have to put up with!” I joshed. “I suppose I’ll have to suffer.” But, in truth, I’m completely capable of cooking my own evening meal, even if I’m nowhere near as good as her.
Enrolling on college courses is Trish all over. She’s a go-getter, always trying something new. I’m more of a stay at home and watch the match on the TV type of guy but, between us, we make a good pair and, after five years of marriage, we couldn’t be happier. It’s not just cookery courses where she’s the go-getter; it applies to most other parts of our lives and, when it comes to sex, she’s always been the more adventurous. She’s the one that bought the handcuffs and, following some of her other suggestions, we’ve tried a number of light role play games, nothing too serious but not that vanilla, either. That’s not to say she hasn’t got her limits and, to my slight frustration, try as I might, I can’t persuade her to try anal sex. When I pushed her on it she explained that one of her previous boyfriends tried it during a drunken fumble and it had hurt her so much she had vowed never to do it again. I could kill the bastard!
Five weeks later the course started and, immediately, I noticed the difference in our evening meals. A sudden infusion of peppers, sun-dried tomatoes, olive oil, seafood, pastas and paellas enlivened our already varied diet. Although there were one or two disasters and I’m never going to be the biggest fan of eating octopus tentacles, in general I enjoyed the new range of delicacies she introduced to us.
And then, one day, Trish announces that she’s invited a ‘David’ over for dinner. “Who’s David?” I asked and she explained that he was one of the other students on the course. Apparently they got on so well that, when the instructor had asked them to work in pairs, she and David had decided to work together.
“Oh, yeah? Is there something you’re not telling me?” I asked, but we both knew I was joking. I’m not the jealous type and I trust Trish completely.
“Wait ’till you meet him,” Trish replied with a grin. “I think you’ll find he’s more interested in you than me.”
Two days later he turns up on the doorstep and, immediately, I knew what Trish had meant. There was absolutely no reason to be jealous; David was obviously and openly gay. I don’t mean that he was a screaming queen or anything, just that he was gay, comfortable with being gay and had no problem with anyone and everyone knowing he was gay. He and Trish disappeared into the kitchen where I was obviously surplus to requirements so I retired to the lounge and, as I watched the match on the telly, I could hear in the background cooking together and having a great time.
The meal was fabulous. David had brought a bottle of wine and I dug out another to help it down with the end result that, after we’d finished and cleared away, we were all quite tipsy. But it wasn’t just the wine. The more I got to know David the more I appreciated what it was that Trish saw in him. He’s really a great guy. I found him really easy to talk to and we all got on like a house on fire.
With the meal over and cleared away, Trish brewed up some coffees and we all went back to the lounge. We carried on the chat from the dinner table and, as the night went on, I opened another bottle of wine and then another, so we were getting more and more relaxed in each other’s company.
And then, in the way that all drunken conversations seem to go, we started talking about sex and, in particular, about David being gay. I guess I was being a little personal but I was too drunk to care very much and he didn’t seem to mind. I was asking him about preferring boys over girls when he came out with:
“It’s not quite a clear cut as that. People aren’t just gay or straight with nothing in between, it’s a spectrum. I mean, if you draw a line with gay at one end and straight at the other Maltepe travesti then we’re all somewhere in the middle. No one is completely one way. There’s a little bit of straight in the gayest gay and a little bit of gay in the straightest straight. I mean, you’re straight, aren’t you?”
“Yes, happily married man and all that.”
“But I’ll bet you’ve thought about gay sex, wondered what it would be like with another guy.”
“But that’s…. that’s just normal curiosity,” I protested. Trish, who had been pretty silent through all this had perked up and had started taking an interest.
“OK, let’s try this one. I’ll bet you’re always pestering Trish to have a go at anal.”
I didn’t need to answer. A combination of my blushes and Trish’s laughter was all the confirmation he needed.
“But that doesn’t make me gay,” I protested. “After all, Trish’s a woman.”
“And a very sexy one at that. Even so, you still want to make love to her in a gay way,” he responded. “OK, so there’s a lot more to gay sex than anal but I’ll take another stab in the dark, if you’ll pardon the expression. I’ll take a pretty good guess that you’ve fantasised about it the other way around. You’ve thought about taking anal just as much as you’ve thought about giving anal. I bet a part of you wonders what it would feel like, to have another man’s prick up your bottom. Go on, admit it.”
“Have you?” Trish cut in. She was now on the edge of her seat and, quite evidently, as interested in the answer as David was.
“Hasn’t everyone?” I blustered.
“And that’s my point,” David said a bit smugly. “Every guy has, even you. There you are, Mr Happily Married Straight Guy, and even you wonder what it would be like. How about blow jobs? Is that part of your ‘normal curiosity’? What would happen if I offered you a blow job right now, or, for that matter, if I asked you for one?”
“I’m not sure I’m pissed enough for that,” I tried to joke. By now I was getting quite a way outside my comfort zone and Trish, treasure that she is, could see my discomfort and came to my rescue.
“What about you?” she asked David. “You’ve got Andy to confess to his secret homosexual fantasies. Does this mean you have secret heterosexual ones?”
“Of course,” David replied. “I’m pretty far over to the gay side of the spectrum but even I have wondered. The difference is that it was easier for me to find out.”
“And have you? What happened?”
“It was a disaster. I had to get pretty drunk to get up the nerve which didn’t help and, when we got there, I could barely get it up. I tried blaming it on the drink but I think she saw through me and she was pretty upset. Maybe I should have told her I was gay but experimenting.”
“May you should have done. It would have been more honest,” Trish answered and, with that, the conversation moved on to other topics.
It wasn’t much later that the evening broke up. We were all tired and drunk so, as soon as David’s taxi had left, Trish and I agreed to leave tidying up until the next day and, together, we made our way to bed.
“Are you OK?” Trish asked as we snuggled under the covers.
“I’m fine,” I replied, not so sure that I was.
“It’s just that I could tell that David got to you a bit. All those questions made you a little uncomfortable.”
“No, it’s OK. I mean, he’s a nice guy and he’s obviously had to think all this through. It was quite an interesting take on things, really. But what about you? Does it bother you that I might have gay thoughts sometimes?”
“On the contrary, I find it quite exciting,” Trish replied as she snuggled up to me. “I quite fancy the idea of you with another man.” She proceeded to show me just how exciting she had found it and, while we were too drunk to do much about it but, before we drifted off to sleep, she had put all my concerns to rest.
And that was it for a week or so. David popped by a from time to time to do some project work with Trish but nothing was ever said about what we had talked about. In fact we soon became pretty good friends and, even when he wasn’t doing project work with Trish, he was welcome just to come and hang out.
However, he had planted some seeds and, every time I saw him I couldn’t help but wonder. What would it be like? Not that I was ever going to do anything. I mean, the last thing I was going to do was to cheat on Trish, or hurt her in any way. She’s precious to me, I love her dearly and she’s the person I’m sharing the rest of my life with. However, that doesn’t stop me wondering what it would be like with another man. He’d asked how I would feel if he were to give me a blow job. Would it be that different from having Trish do it? I had a sudden vision of David and Trish on their knees in front of me taking turns at sucking my prick while I judged them on technique and couldn’t believe how hard just thinking about it made me.
Far darker were all the other massive questions about what it would feel the other way around. What would it Ümraniye travesti be like if I were to give him a blow job? What would it be like to have another guy’s prick in my mouth? Or darker still, was David right in suggesting that my desire for anal sex meant that I also wanted to feel what it would be like to have a man’s prick up my backside. On one of Trish’s college nights I even went up to the bedroom and got out her vibrators but when I looked at them I hadn’t got the nerve to do anything. Even that felt a bit too close to cheating on Trish, a thing I would never do.
In the end it turned out that I wasn’t the only one wondering. It was maybe a couple of months later and we were lying in bed together when she put down her book, rolled towards me and I felt her hand reaching for my prick. I know this ploy well. Sometimes it ends up with her confessing to a new little dent on the car, sometimes she’s spent a little more on shoes than she thinks I’ll be happy with and sometimes she’s just as horny as hell and won’t rest until I’ve given her a damn good seeing to. Whichever, I’m always keen to oblige. She waited until I was good and hard before she spoke, a sign that this is something she’s nervous about.
“Hun,” she said softly, “I’ve been thinking…”
“What have you been thinking?” I asked carefully.
“Do you remember when David was over and we all got drunk?”
“Well, we’ve done that more than once,” I replied.
“I mean the first time, the time he talked about how straight guys have homosexual urges.”
“Yeah, I remember that,” I said with a chuckle.
“Do you remember when he asked how you would feel if he asked you for a blow job?”
“That’s not a discussion I’m likely to forget in a hurry.”
“Well, what if…. Hang on a second….” She let go of my prick, pushed back the covers and knelt up so she was straddling me. Then, with one hand holding herself open and the other holding my prick so as to guide it between her thighs, she lowered herself down until I was buried to the hilt. Judging by the way I slid inside her without any resistance she was hot to trot and ready to go.
“There, ooh, yes, that’s better, now, as I was saying,” she continued as she put her hands on my shoulders and rocked back and forth, easing me in and out of her. “Anyway, David’s discussion got me thinking and, well, you know how kinky I can be.”
“I know full well just how kinky you can be,” I replied. “It’s one of the things I love about you.”
“Well, I got wondering, wondering if…,” her movements against me were getting stronger and I could see that she was already approaching her orgasm. Whatever it was that she was thinking about was really getting to her.
“Please, Andy, please don’t be too shocked, it’s just a thought, just a fantasy but….”
“Supposing, just supposing…. Supposing I had you handcuffed and then….”
She closed her eyes and rhythmically pumped herself up and down as she concentrated on what she was thinking of. Having me handcuffed was not enough, I knew there had to be something more.
“And then what?” I asked, impatient to find out what was turning her on so much. “Once you’ve got me handcuffed, what then? What’s on that deliciously kinky mind of yours?”
“If you were handcuffed then I could… I could… I could watch as… watch as… watch as you were forced to… forced to… forced to give David a blow job!”
And, with that, she came, or rather we both did. Her pussy muscles clenched as she slammed herself up and down on my prick and that was enough to tip me over the edge. In a frenzy passion we climaxed together, our bodies conjoined in ecstasy.
“Oh god, that was good, so good, so good,” Trish panted as, completely sated, she collapsed forward so that, with me still inside her, she was lying on top of me and we were kissing and cuddling as we enjoyed the post orgasmic glow. I love that, I love feeling myself inside her as and it all dies down and I become soft again. We were still like that when I felt the time had come to face the elephant in the room.
“This fantasy of yours, are you serious about it or is it just a fantasy? I can see how much it turns you on.”
“At the moment it’s just a fantasy. Just thinking about it makes me hot. Well, you saw that.”
“Yeah, I did. But, would you want to do it for real?”
“I’m not sure. I mean, I’d never force anything on you that we hadn’t agreed first. I don’t want to do anything you’re not happy with. I love you, I love you so, so much and I’d never want to hurt you.”
“But, if I were to be OK with it, then you might like to take this further. Is that it?” I asked with a chuckle. “What about David? Have you asked him how he feels about all this?”
“Of course not! I wouldn’t dream of asking him unless I had cleared it with you. If we are going to do this it has to be both of us.”
“And if you ask him what makes you think he will agree?”
“I don’t know. Women’s Tuzla travesti intuition, I guess. Anyway, there’s only one way to find out but I’m not asking until we’re both sure. So, what about it? How do you feel about it?”
Talk about the sixty four thousand dollar question! How did I feel? If Trish had asked me at practically any other time my answer would have been a straight ‘no’ but, in the relaxed bliss of the afterglow I was a little more pliable. There were two big things that made me uneasy. The first, and probably the biggest, was the thought of adding another person to our lovemaking. I liked David, I really liked David but, as the old saying goes, three into two won’t go. The second was all the things about the fact that David was a guy. It’s one thing to have the occasional homosexual thought; it’s something else to actually do something about it.
On the other hand, I had once admitted to Trish that one of my fantasies was a threesome, albeit that I had imagined the third party being another woman. Although this had stayed a fantasy and we had never done anything about making it real there had been an unspoken acceptance that, should the right circumstances arise, we might consider it. As such, if I could expect Trish to share our bed with another woman then it was only reasonable that she could expect me to be OK sharing it with another man.
And then there was the whole ‘handcuffed’ thing. Trish had bought a pair once as a bit of a joke but, after we had fooled around with them for a bit, we discovered that they can be a lot of fun. She’d play at being the evil dominatrix and I was her victim, bound and powerless. However we’d soon found the limitations. Neither of us is into the pain thing so, beyond a certain amount of teasing, there wasn’t that much we could do. However, as Trish had climaxed she’d said something about me being ‘forced’ to give David a blow job. This was definitely a new twist to the game. I tried to imagine it. Naked and handcuffed, David with his prick out and Trish ordering me to suck it…. How did I feel? Half of me was intrigued and excited, the other half scared shitless. The question was whether the intrigued and excited half was enough to win out over scared shitless?
“You’re very quiet,” Trish said after a while.
“I’m still trying to work out how I feel about this,” I replied. “That’s not a ‘no’, but I’m not sure it’s a ‘yes’ either.”
She snuggled a little closer.
“I’ll do you a deal. Play your cards right on this one and maybe I’ll reconsider my ban on anal sex. Can’t say fairer than that, can I?”
“Is that a promise?”
“Let’s just say that if you’re prepared to indulge my fantasies then it’s only fair that I indulge yours. Ooh, look, are you getting hard again? I think someone is quite as reticent as they thought. Do I gather you don’t find my little fantasy a complete turn off?”
She knelt back up so that, this time, she was straddling my thighs and, yes, a combination of her fantasy and the possibility of anal sex had got to me and the results were there for her to see. She reached down and, for the second time that evening, her hand was wrapped around my prick.
“Of course, if you were properly handcuffed, there are all sorts of gay things I could make you do, aren’t there?”
“Yes,” I replied rather breathlessly. With the handcuff game in mind I reached up and gripped the bars of our brass bedstead as if my wrists were fastened there.
“Yes, Miss,” I replied slipping deeper into the handcuff game.
“Shall we see if he’ll fit back inside?”
“Oooh, yes, please, Miss.”
And that is what she did.
It was a couple of Fridays later when, as had become the norm, we had invited David over for dinner and, naturally, the wine was flowing. By the end of the meal we’d drunk maybe a bottle and a half between the three of us so we were tipsy but far from out of it. We left the washing up for later and retired to the lounge but, on the way there, Trish excused herself and disappeared upstairs. When she returned she was wearing the black satin dressing gown that I had got her for Christmas and I immediately wondered what she was, or was not, wearing underneath. The fact that the bits I could see were sheer black stockings and high heeled shoes gave clues that the rest of her attire was equally enticing.
“Wow! Look at Miss Sexy! If I weren’t gay…,” David quipped as Trish sat herself on the arm of my armchair. She leaned into me and draped her arm over my shoulder which had the added bonus of giving me a glimpse down her cleavage, a sight I will never get bored of seeing. She made herself comfortable and the satin gown slipped to one side exposing her legs all the way up to mid thigh. She looked gorgeous.
“But the thing is, you are gay,” Trish said to David once she had got comfortable. “And, being gay, my womanly charms, such as they are, hold little allure for you.” She paused as she reached into the pocket of her gown and brought out a pair of interlocked leather cuffs which I’d never seen before. She dangled them in front of her. “On the other hand, Andy might be more to your tastes and I have decided that, if suitably restrained, he could be made available. Can I offer you his services for a blow job, for example?”
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