Patrick was glad to be back home in Montreal. He sat at his computer trying to make sense of the events on his trip to New York City. Googling "Chelsea" brought descriptions of the neighborhood. It was a hotbed of LGBT activity.
So that's what those lesbians were warning me about.
Patrick opened the website of the Chelsea Art Museum. It featured a collection of nude paintings. The first had a Rubenesque lady reclining nude on a couch. Patrick's dick began to awaken. The second piece contained two slender women splashing each other in a pool. Their perky breasts dripped with drops of water. The third painting featured a standing woman in a leather corset. Before her knelt a nude woman with her tongue on her companion's clitoris. This image brought Patrick's timber to full mast.
The next exhibit on the website was entitled, "Brazilian Bodies". It started with a photograph of a toned, smooth Brazilian man. The stud's dark dick contrasted with his light tan skin, drawing Patrick's eyes to it. Patrick's breathing became more labored. The next photo showed a muscular man who was as fair skinned as Patrick. The model's foreskin covered his flaccid penis. Patrick slid his hands into his pants to rub the crown of his own cut cock. He wondered what it would be like to feel the other man's turtle neck. The last beauty was a lithe black man riding a horse. Patrick felt his shaft. It was still rigid despite the change from female models to male models.
Patrick had always sought women in the past. Responding to a man's body was new to him. Perhaps the encounters he had experienced in New York had stirred something new. His thoughts went back to the young man who approached him in the bar. The man had told him to embrace his desires. Patrick closed his eyes, and his imagination drifted from the young man to Benjamin. Benjamin had told Patrick in no uncertain terms that he did not fuck married men. Patrick had no intention of cheating on his wife either. Day dreams, on the other hand, were another matter. Patrick pictured the virile American lying on his stomach in Patrick's bed. He imagined his cock sliding between the stranger's ass cheeks. Patrick googled "gay ass" to bring up porn images. He browsed pics of young bubble butts and firm muscular buns. His cock began to soften as his lust waned.
Ah well. I guess I'm not gay after all. Men's asses don't really appeal to me.
It was just as well. Francis, Patrick's wife, would start her fertile days tomorrow. Patrick had to save his sperm for her. They were trying to conceive. Every month, Patrick fucked his wife like a rabbit during her 18 fertile days. During her infertile days (the 5 days of her period plus 7 days after that) they refrained from all sex. Patrick was forbidden to orgasm. No sex, no foreplay, no masturbation. He had to keep his sperm for breeding. When they first started the routine half a year ago, it was difficult. By now, Patrick was accustomed to the restrictions. He might fondle himself now and then, but he always stopped well short of cumming. His semen was reserved for his wife's womb. Patrick felt that the frustration of days without release would be worth it. He longed to start a family with Francis. They had expected to conceive in the first month or two. When Francis failed to get pregnant, they sought medical advice. The doctors cleared Francis of any fertility problems. Patrick's check up was next. He had gone to Columbia Presbyterian in New York City to get the best medical care possible. He and Francis were still waiting to hear from them about the test results.
Patrick went to clear his head with a cold shower. The water flowed over his bare body. He looked down at his legs. Regular marathon training kept them trim. He flexed his midsection and admired how his six-pack moved. Then he rubbed his arms with a soapy hand. They were solid but thin. Running was great for developing his gluteus, hamstrings, and core muscles, but it did nothing for his upper body. Patrick's mind wandered back to the image of Benjamin's body. He imagined what it would be like to have Benjamin's massive biceps. He spread soap around his flat chest. His fingers went through the small tuff of curly red hair in the center of his otherwise smooth torso. Patrick wondered how it would feel to posses Benjamin's bulky pecks. His slick finger tips traced the base of his chest, pausing briefly on each of his small, pink nips. Patrick was happy with his body. His wife found it pleasing, and that was enough for him. Still, he dreamed of what it would be like to have Benjamin's impressive muscles, how it would feel to walk onto a room and turn every woman's head. His manhood began to rise at the prospect of having a dozen females admire his physique. Patrick quickly chastised himself and shut down that train of thought. He finished his shower, dried off and walked to the living room wearing only a towel.
