Course Correction

There are times when my journey to this place seems to have been a meandering drift of circumstance and poor judgment. Then there are other times, when I recognize that mine was a course charted by truly innate lusts and propelled by my own determination to explore these darker regions of my sexual psyche. There is no true beginning to this story, as it involves elements of my moral-genetic code, and so extends backwards into ambiguity. My first truly sexual encounter with another genetic male occurred when I was already married and just a few months past my thirtieth birthday.

It was a slender, well-dressed, gray haired gentleman who approached the table. He was holding my wallet. "You dropped this at the shop, Robert. As I said on the phone, I tried to catch you before you could drive off, but you were in too much of a hurry. I'm terribly sorry to have called and asked you to meet me here, but I didn't want you to panic when you discovered your wallet missing."

I felt my face radiate in the infrared zone of embarrassment as he held the wallet out.

I mumbled a thank you, as I took it. My intent was to stuff it into a pocket and make my exit, but he insisted that I examine it to be certain nothing was missing. He had a disarming smile that came dangerously close to calming my conscience. I glanced hurriedly into the leather pouch. Nothing had been removed, but a business card had been inserted. It contained the name, Julian, and a phone number. He slipped, uninvited into the booth beside me. "I didn't want you to feel that we're on anything other than equal footing," he explained about the card. "I own the shop you visited today. My wife and I live on the second floor, just over it."

Although this man and I had exchanged ejaculate through a portal between booths at an adult-bookstore video arcade less than an hour earlier, this was the first time we exposed our faces to one another, or uttered more than a grunt, a groan or a moan. I could not hold his unflinching gaze. I shifted my eyes to the tabletop. The realization that his having looked into my dropped wallet for information as to my identity had stripped me of the garment of anonymity caused me to physically tremble with remorse over my unintended sexual interaction with him. All that I knew of him was that he was capable of performing the most intensely satisfying act of oral sex conceivable. He had taken my cock into his mouth and down his throat without so much as a pause to suppress any reflex gag. His gullet effectively became a surrogate vagina; warm, wet and enthusiastically accommodating.

I noticed, for the second time that day, the wedding band on his hand. The first time was when he had reached through the window at the arcade to motion me to bring my erection closer. The sight of that simple band, encircling his finger, had evoked a reassuring measure of empathy when he beckoned me. It caused me to assume that his situation was like my own, a matter of a married man compelled to seek sexual excitement beyond the monotony of simple spousal intercourse. When he reached through the portal and beckoned, I turned my back on the video of a woman orally servicing two men and stepped closer to the small window. Obediently, I had followed the directive of his gesture, placing my erection, into his hands, during that exchange.

"Your wife doesn't mind living over a pornography shop," I asked, feeling as nervous as I had been standing against the thin partition in that video booth, as I let him maneuver me into a position that permitted him to begin fondling and caressing my genitals.

He chuckled. "Well, if you enter from A Street you step into a very chic shop of pure erotica, all upscale and socially fashionable. That entrance from Z Street, the one you use is on the backside of the store. It's all impure pornography from Z Street. That side is most popular with married men...men such as yourself, Robert." A waiter, who seemed to know Julian, smiled at the conversation he was overhearing. I squirmed uncomfortably. The waiter took our order for drinks, brought them quickly and then discreetly returned to the bar. The drinks, which were very strong, were also very welcome. The alcohol massaged my nerves. Even before I'd finished the first, a second round was provided. "My wife and her friends will only enter by way of A Street," Julian continued. "I often prefer coming and going by Z Street. She indulges me in these eccentricities." Without pausing, Julian shifted gears. "I suppose I could have simply had you pick up your wallet at the shop, but I wanted to actually meet you in a setting less embarrassing for you."

I started to offer an apology for the inconvenience my carelessness had caused, but he waived it aside. "I don't believe that your leaving the wallet behind was entirely an accident, Robert. I don't mean to say it was deliberate, but I very much suspect that on some level you want to explore."

His blunt appraisal was too close to the mark. My protestation was immediate. "I'm a married man. I appreciate the return of my wallet, but I have no interest in pursuing any relationship...."

My objection to his assumption was brushed aside as effortlessly as my apology had been. "Not a relationship, Robert. I'm talking about a simple exploration of your desires...more specifically, the darkest cupboards and chambers of your libido. Earlier, after you'd emptied your testes of cum, why didn't you pull up your trousers and simply flee."

"That's what I meant to do. I wanted to get as far away from what had happened just as fast as possible."

"Yes, that's exactly what most married men such as yourself find themselves wanting after they've ejaculated with someone other than their spouse for the first time. That's most especially true when it's the first time they've let another man pleasure them. You wanted to flee immediately, but you didn't. You overcame that urge. A more primal need overruled that first impulse. You stayed to reciprocate the favor I had performed. I made it a point to milk you first, in order to find what sort of person you are." I wanted to object to the implications of my willingness to try and reciprocate his sexual act, but I remained silent. An aura of authority enveloped him. "What did you feel when I permitted you to touch me in return? Was it simply out of a sense of obligation that you brought your lips to the head of my penis? It was clear to me that you'd never taken a man into your mouth, yet you seemed more excited than anxious. When you were gagging, trying so hard to take me down your throat, was that out of a desire to get done quickly and to get away, or a desire to fulfill some secret desire? Was it urgency to escape that inspired you to try and insert your tongue into the eye of my cock head? I felt your tremor of excitement when I moaned. What did you feel as I began to spurt into your mouth? Was it nothing more than relief?"

I defied an impulse to lie to this kind and gentle man. I kept my gaze upon the tabletop "I felt a sense of accomplishment," I confessed.

"Yes, that was my assessment of your expression. Afterwards, the guilt and shame fell onto your head, and you simply had to flee the scene."

"I'm married," I repeated, as if it were a mantra. "I was ashamed of having violated my marriage vows. In three months I'll be a father. What sort of father cheats on his wife and has sex with another man? How can I not feel guilt...and shame? What does it say of me...of my marriage?" I felt my eyes watering as I whispered my confession.

Julian's solution shocked me. It was offered in a calm voice that made it all the more shocking. "You need to be disciplined, Robert. You need to make restitution to your conscience. A proper strapping to your bottom is the answer. I'm certainly not saying you did anything wrong, only that you feel as if it was wrong." My jaw dropped open. I made a move to get up, and to flee from him, but his choice to sit beside me rather than opposite impeded my escape. "I quite understand that this recommendation sounds absurd, perhaps even wickedly perverted. I don't ask you to decide now, but simply think about it for a few days and get back to me. I assure you that you'll feel your slate is clean once you accept the needs of your conscience and submit to a stern measure of corporal discipline. I also know that you'll have recurring guilt whenever you're with your wife, until you earn a measure of self-absolution for your infidelity. Give it a few days and then give me a call."

The premise that I should submit to corporal punishment from this man filled me with revulsion. When I arrived home, I began my own process of conscience appeasement by indulging every whim that flashed into my wife's head. If she wanted to eat out, we went out. If she fancied a movie, we went and watched. For two days I pursued this avenue. On the third morning, I awoke with an erection and a guilty conscience over the nocturnal thoughts that had caused it. There's a temptation to insist that it was a dream, and as such, was beyond my self-control. I tried to insist upon a pardon for my arousal. But, it was not all a dream. Most of the night I had spent thinking...fantasizing about Julian encouraging me to be submissive. The last bits of the night I spent in the loo, trying to prepare for an encounter that terrified me, almost as much as it excited me.

The following day was a torment. The libido of my brain became electrified. An alternating current of arousal, and guilt caused my genitals to twitch in anticipation and my conscience to thrash about. I left work early that afternoon hoping to go home to my wife, Annie. Perhaps, I tried arguing, a simple sexual encounter with her would do the trick and sate my appetite. Somewhere along the route I changed course and drove to Z Street. I had thrown out his card and was obligated to ask for Julian at the counter. A very young man, most effeminately dressed, smiled knowingly when I asked for Julian. "You've been a naughty lad, haven't you," he taunted, taking me by the arm and pulling me upstairs. A single knock on a door at the top of the stairs and we entered the front room of Julian's lair. It was as much a small apartment as it was an office. Julian was seated at a very large desk, dressed in a three-piece suit. He looked much more like a properly attired British banker than a pornography shop proprietor.

Julian got up and came around the desk to shake my hand. "Well, Robert, what brings you upstairs to visit with me?" I glanced nervously at the effeminate lad who had escorted me into the room. "You can speak in front of Joey. He has a complete understanding of what you feel and what's required to satisfy your conscience. There are times when Joey is quite literally a fuck toy for men, and though he craves all manner of misuse when that need overwhelms him, a great guilt always follows. He still turns to me for relief from those demons who were planted into his brain by moralizing elders."

When it became finally obvious that no one was going to do or say anything more until I complied with answering Julian, I closed my eyes and whispered my answer. "I came to be...punished."

Julian gently corrected me. " Not punished, Robert. You've come to make restitution to your conscience. You can't help the way your conscience feels any more than you can be held accountable for your desires. We're going to align the needs of your conscience with the desires of your libido." I was instructed to completely undress. I did so, with no small degree of embarrassment. Eventually I stood before them both, my hands held in front of my very shriveled penis. I was not simply nude, I was naked. I had denuded my pubes of every curly hair by shaving my genitals for the first time in my life that very morning. At the time, it had seemed like a necessary requisite for what I was contemplating to have done. Now that my genitals were exposed to them both, I felt simple humiliation.

"You look delicious," Joey suggested. He positioned me at the side of Julian's desk, as Julian set a laptop at the opposite side, the screen turned so that it and I stared at one another. Joey was allowed to fondle my flaccid penis and grope my smoothly shaved ball sac for a few moments, before Julian interrupted. "I'm going to spank you and then use a belt on you, Robert. I have no intention of being cruel, but I will be severe. You must trust me that it will not cause anything more damaging than immediate pain, and some wonderful discomfort for a few days afterwards. I expect you'll want to masturbate during those few days."

Joey whispered in my ear to fold myself over the massive desk, and grasp the opposite edge with both hands. Nothing was used to constrain me. "Do you want a gag to keep you from crying out?" The question was asked with a mischievous twinkle, but it sent a shiver down my spine. A video of Joey being molested, disciplined, forcibly sodomized and orally raped began to play on the screen in front of me. Without a word of warning, Julian began to deliver a string of open palm slaps to my exposed bottom. My rumps began to burn and I began to squirm. The assault became more intense. There was no pause. The swats became as incessant as an April rainstorm. I found myself unable to suppress the urge to plead for respite. To my surprise and great relief, Julian halted the assault on my bottom. He reached between my legs. I closed my eyes as he began to grope my scrotum. His fingers closed about my genitals. A squeeze, then a stretch that pulled a moan from my soul.

"I want you to keep yourself smooth like this from now on, Robert."

"My wife has never seen me like this. She'll question me about the reason."

Julian continued to massage my ball sac, squeezing tighter when I voiced concern about my wife's reaction to having hairless genitals. " A man with a cock has pubic hair, Robert. You're about to become one of my lads. Lads have penises, not cocks. Lads are required to keep themselves smooth. Do you understand?" Julian's kneading of my ball sac had sprouted an erection of my penis."

"Yes, sir," I moaned.

Spread your legs. I'm going to use the belt on you Robert, and I may want to strap your testes as well as your bottom. The thought that he might actually take the strap to my genitals sent a panic through me. I almost voiced an objection, but my penis stiffened, and I held my tongue.

The video playing now showed Joey on his hands and knees. An open-mouth gag that stretched his mouth wide was all that he wore. The gag had a hollow center that forced his mouth to remain open and available to anyone who wanted to use him. A naked man, middle-aged and with a considerable belly bulge approached the lad. Without a word, this ogre of a man inserted himself into Joey's mouth and steadily began pushing his cock completely down the young man's throat. Joey's eyes bulged. He began to gag and then choke from the assault. It was more a video of oral rape than simple oral sex. The man pulled out in order for the hapless lad, turned concubine, to gag for air. Saliva ran out of Joey's mouth as he heaved and gasped. The respite lasted only a few moments, as the man took hold of the back of Joey's head and pulled him back onto his cock, to finish the deed. I took note of the fact that, like myself no physical restraints prevented Joey from ending his abuse. Only once did he use his hands to force his rapist to withdraw and give himself a few moments of air. When the need for air had been temporarily met, Joey obligingly submitted again to the rape.

Julian took a step back, to allow ample room, then struck me with the leather instrument of my atonement. The belt struck me a second and third time in quick succession. My whole body lurched. My rumps clenched tightly, earning a reprimand from Julian.

Julian paused, permitting me to watch the video without delivering more strokes of the belt. When the man's body began the convulsion of his ejaculation into Joey's belly, Julian delivered a fierce blow to my bottom, followed by a strike to the exposed head of my cock. I had, despite the revulsion of my brain, become so aroused that my erection was completely exposed. I lurched forward. I screamed from the shock, as much as the pain of having the head of my erect penis so violently mistreated. Tears flowed from me. Before the pain could recede, Julian stepped closer, reached about my waste and took hold of my cock. He pressed himself against me from behind. For the first time I realized that he had opened his trousers at some point to free his cock. It quickly found its way between the cheeks of my rump. I groaned against its heat and hardness. There was no attempt to actually penetrate my bottom. He seemed content to essentially dry hump me...tease me into simply imagining that I was about become his bitch. Julian began to masturbate me. He was not gentle and there was no lubrication to mitigate the abrasive nature of his firm grip. I whimpered my discomfort and immediately began spewing semen, sperm and lust onto Julian's hand. Dutifully I licked my own thick ejaculate from his hand when he held it out to me. I was disgusted with myself, but sincerely thanked him. Before I could regain the strength to stand upright, Joey moved to me, knelt on the floor between my legs and began to kiss and lick my genitals. The self-disgust I'd briefly felt was pushed aside. The spirit of my libido was willing, but the limitations of the flesh could not fulfill its duty to grow rigid.

"Well, maybe later," Joey suggested when he finally accepted that Julian had milked me dry.