Richard First Bisexual Experience

I have always considered myself straight. I'm just an ordinary bloke. My build has been described as athletic, and at five foot ten, I am neither short nor tall. I am probably best described as mister average. I am proud of the fact that at fifty-one years of age, I have managed to stave off the dreaded middle-aged spread. If I were writing my sex CV, it would start with "My name is Richard. I'm a friendly, passionate, kinky guy looking for discrete fun with a female. Willing to try most things and will always stick to boundaries." Of course, that makes it sound like I don't care if it's a man or a woman. But I do care. On the spectrum of sexuality, I have always been firmly on the hetero end of the scale.

I do a lot of driving throughout the week and always try to manage my fluid intake to make sure I don't get held up busting for a pee on a long journey. Today was different from any other journey. It was a hot July day, and my air con had packed up, probably needed re-gassing. If I made good time, I might catch the aircon service centre in my hometown.

I had already started the journey when I remembered I hadn't had a pee. Fortunately, I had a large bottle of water with me. If I was desperate, I could tip the water out and take a pee in the bottle. I didn't dare chuck it away too soon because I intended to open my windows and keep wetting my face with water from the bottle. I didn't think the service guy would be impressed if I walked smelling of dried piss.

God, it was so hot, I had to drink some of it. I couldn't stop myself. Then it hit me, that low ached that was telling me I had to pee or my bladder would burst. As I was heading home, I knew that there was a layby down one of the short-cuts on a B-road. A small thicket backed onto it. I could pull in there and have a pee. This reassured me that it was safe to continue sipping small amounts of water. I was maybe just twenty minutes from the layby.

As I approached the layby, I could see another car had already parked up. I thought that someone probably stopped by for a snack or to make a mobile call. I had done it loads of times. As I pulled in, I could see the other car was empty. I changed my guess at what the occupant was doing. Perhaps they had broken down and left the vehicle to be picked up later. Or maybe it was someone in the same boat as me--Busting for a pee.

I jumped out of my car, making sure to lock it behind me and followed a well-trodden path of vegetation less hardened mud. I had to stoop to avoid low branches. This stooping only succeeded in squashing the contents of my bladder even more. I moved off the main track and glanced back to make sure I couldn't see the road. If I couldn't see the road, people couldn't see me. I had a quick glance all around to make sure the other driver wasn't about.

As soon as I felt comfortable that it was all clear, I zipped my fly open and pulled my cock out of my pants. Before I could even think of aiming, I started pissing. Once I had made my aim and could see I wasn't getting splashback, I looked skyward and enjoyed the sensation of my bladder emptying. I gazed skywards the way us blokes do when we are at a urinal. It is the best way to reassure other pissers that we aren't looking at their dicks.

I pissed for England. When I was younger, I developed the habit of counting how long I was pissing for. My record was around sixty seconds. This time I was already at seventy-five. I was smashing my record. As the stream subsided, I noticed the coolness of the shade on my dick. I pulled the skin back and forth a few times to make sure I had squeezed the last few drops out and, I was enjoying the coolness on it.

I heard a noise to my right and was startled that there was a guy no more than six feet away from me. I just stood there frozen, cock in hand.

"Very nice, mate!" The stranger said. It was only then that I noticed he had his cock out. He must have had a piss because he was moving his skin back and forth too. No, wait a minute, he was wanking.

I said nothing, did nothing, just stared, and he just wanked. I came out of my trance to realize that my cock had started to grow. I couldn't have got it back in my pants even if I had tried. He took a few steps closer, all the time continuing his masturbation.

When he was just a foot away, he said, "Do you want a hand with that?"

I wanted to say no. I wanted to get my cock back in my pants and run. Instead, I did nothing. I just stood there with a bone hard cock while he just wanked. He reached out a hand, pushing my hand out of the way; he wrapped his fingers around my cock and started to wank me. Jesus, I felt so horny right then. Why couldn't it have been a woman doing it? I managed to blurt out, "I'm not gay!"

He just laughed. "None of us is gay, mate. We just know it's easier to get a wank off a male stranger than a female stranger." He continued to wank me, slowly pulling my skin back and then he did something that terrified me and excited me at the same time. He moved right in front of me and started rubbing the head of his cock all over the head of my cock. It was then that I noticed how much pre-cum was oozing out of my dick.

He said, "Do you kiss?"

I said, "No. B-b-b-but I'm cumming." It was a phrase I'd learnt to use to inform female partners that if they didn't want my seed in them, they needed to do something. Without saying a word, the stranger dropped to his knees and stuck his mouth over my cock.

"I'm cumming!" Again, it was a way of letting a woman know that if she didn't want a mouthful of jism, she ought to stop. Not stranger, he just went for it and swallowed me whole. I felt the first initial spurt escape from my cock. He kept sucking, and I felt my orgasm wash over me as the primary ejaculation kicked in. God, I don't know how much he swallowed, but he was at for a good while. My legs were shaking, and I was sure I was going to collapse on the ground.

As my post-orgasm adrenaline subsided, I started to panic in case he was expecting the same in return. I needn't have worried because he was putting his cock back in his pants. Just before he wandered back into the cover of the bushes, his parting shot was, "It is easier to get an orgasm off a male stranger than a female stranger. And we don't expect anything in return."

On the rest of the journey home, I pondered over what he had said. And yes, he was right. I didn't have to take him for a meal or sweet-talk him. He just appeared, did the deed, and was gone. I decided to miss the aircon service. I could book it in for the weekend. I did promise myself that I wouldn't empty my bladder before long journeys anymore. I will also make sure I know where laybys are and drink lots of water on my journey.

I will still describe myself as Richard, an average straight man because I don't fancy men. I convinced myself that it's no different than using a wanking machine to bring yourself off. I must admit that night I looked at a different flavour of porn and leant what frotting was.