It was a real rough patch we were in. My wife, Sharon, had experienced a difficult pregnancy which had caused her to take leave of work well before giving birth. My own work hours had been cut for the factory since production orders were scarce at the moment. Now we had an extra mouth to feed and grateful as we were for our daughter's health, we weren't making ends meet. Cash was scarce, our credit was maxed out and the cupboards were bare. I was looking for extra hours and a second job, but nothing was turning up. We were in a bind and both of us were stressed.
The stress was showing on me at work I suppose. I had shared some of my problems with a casual friend of mine named Lee, my regular ride to and from work and with whom I went out for a beer... when I had enjoyed the money to afford it. I tried not to drive my friends crazy whining about my problems, but the stress was showing. I was quieter than normal and probably a little depressed. I am normally an optimist, but things were wearing me down.
One such day, while I was bogged down in my worries, Lee carried the conversation during our ride home. Now, Lee was a bachelor, a little older than me, financially secure and able to do pretty much everything he had time for. We didn't have much in common that way at the moment. My mind was so much on my troubles that I don't even remember what he was talking about before he went quiet for a few minutes. He definitely surprised me when he suddenly blurted out that he might have a way for me to improve my cash flow until I found something better or things picked up at work enough to get me the hours I needed.
I was eager to embrace the hope he offered, but he looked nervous about making his suggestion. He asked me if I was expected at home at the normal time and I said no, since it happened that Sharon and the baby were staying at her mother's place out-of-town for a few days. He nodded. "Let's talk about it over a drink."
We stopped at a bar we visited occasionally after work. He bought me a beer and we sat down at a quiet booth in the corner.
We had a beer over small talk and when the server brought us our seconds, Lee was ready to get to it.
"How long have we known each other?" he asked.
I guessed it had been about three or four years. "In that time, have you ever known me to be in a relationship?"
It had never come up, I lied; I thought that it was odd that a decent-looking man with money, a nice house and car, all paid for, didn't even have a girlfriend, or a glimmer of interest in anyone.
"I like to be on my own," he explained. "But I have my needs like anyone else. I just look for the casual."
I didn't see where this was going and sipped my beer.
"Fact is, sometimes I think it's just easier to pay for occasional sex instead of making monthly payments on a relationship."
We both laughed. At the moment, I was trying to make those payments myself.
"Alright, I'll get to the point. I'm saying that I would pay you to blow me."
I nearly choked.
"Whether it would be a one-off, occasional, or on a regular basis would be up to you. No strings, cash on delivery. Simple as that."
I felt myself flush, turning red and feeling waves of heat wash over me. I was not gay and if I understood what Lee was saying he wasn't necessarily either. He just wanted someone–anyone–to take care of his needs and he was willing to pay for a blow job–or regular blow jobs.
I might have been offended, probably should have been, but we were friends and besides, the way Lee brought it up it sounded like it could be a good arrangement and I was shocked to realize that I was considering it. I weighed it in my mind in pretty simple terms with the strange clarity that alcohol can occasionally, and only fleetingly, bring. Right now, it was either my family with empty mouths or his cock in my mouth.
After a long time, or so it seemed, Lee spoke again. "Look, pal, no offence. I was just looking to help you and me both with what we want. You don't want to, no pressure, forget I ever said anything."
My mouth was dry and I had to down my beer to speak. If I have one good trait it is that I can make a decision quickly. "Lee, I'll try it. I need the money and God knows I would rather do this than see things get so desperate that my wife should go out and do it with strangers."
There, it was said and Lee nodded, pleased. "When do you want me–to do it?" I asked.
"Well," he said, "if your wife's not expecting you at home... if you don't have anything better to do, why not now?"
I nodded, wondering if he meant he wanted to take me into the rest room and hoping not though the idea sent a strange thrill through me. God knows I needed the money badly enough I couldn't afford to argue about it. I didn't need to worry though. Lee finished his beer and we left. It was about a five minute drive to his place, though it seemed longer. In a way I was glad we were going to do this now, because if I had time to come down from the beer buzz and really think about this I was sure I'd lose my nerve.
Lee's place was nice. A three bedroom bungalow on a spacious wooded lot, nicely furnished. He kept it neat for a bachelor. A large-screen television and a surround-sound stereo system dominated his recreation room. Very nice.
"Have a seat," he said, gesturing to the sofa, while getting us each another beer from his well-stocked bar. There wasn't much to talk about, so he switched on the TV and we drank our beers. When we were both finished, he got up and grabbed me another. He was plying me with what Dad used to call "Dutch courage" and I was grateful for it. I was feeling pretty relaxed and almost comfortable with the whole arrangement, and it was almost disturbing to realize that somewhere inside me I was anticipating the act I was about to perform (or attempt to perform) with excitement.
Lee told me to make myself at home while he took a shower. He suggested that if there was nothing interesting on TV that maybe I should look through his movie collection in the bottom cabinet of his entertainment unit and he left the room to take his shower.
I tried to distract myself from the purpose of my visit to Lee's home with channel-surfing through the hundreds of stations he received that I'd never heard of, but nothing really caught my fancy. I decided to take a look at his movie collection after all. There were about fifty DVDs lined up on the shelf of the entertainment unit, well-known movies for the most part, the same sort of stuff most people would have. Then I remembered that Lee had made a point of mentioning that his movies were in the bottom cabinet of the unit. My interest was piqued; if he kept them out of sight, these were probably movies to inspire in this situation.
I opened the cabinet and sure enough there was a small stack of DVDs and videocassettes there. Well, well, I thought through the warmth of my beer-induced haze, what have we here? They were porno films of course, what else? But this was a real variety pack: teenage girls, mature women, interracial, all-girl and yes, just as I expected, bi-sexual and gay titles. I was not too shocked by the cover images of men groping, mounting and sucking each other; back in college, I'd had a gay roommate who left this sort of thing lying around his room all the time. It had never really offended me, nor did it ever arouse me–until now.
Definitely, as I looked at the covers of these gay porn DVDs I was finding myself aroused. My cock was hard in my pants. It was bewildering to me. I was not gay, or at least I had never thought I could be; I'd never wasted a thought on it before. Standing here with a boner as I looked at gay erotica in the house of a man I was going to suck off for money, I was beginning to wonder. I shrugged. The beer was keeping me calm enough to straighten my thoughts out (so to speak): I'd never craved cock or found men attractive. My arousal came from the taboo nature of what I was about to do. I loved my wife and I loved pussy.
Thinking of my wife was another matter. After four years of marriage, I was about to cheat on my wife for the first time and it was going to be with another man.
Shut up, I told myself. I was doing this for the money to feed her and the baby. If I could actually get any pleasure out of it, I should because I damn well deserved it.
With that thought, I slipped a DVD out of a case labelled "Bag Lunches" (I had to snicker at the title), which showed a mosaic of miniature scenes in which young men licked each others' balls, sucked each others' cocks and let fresh cum ooze off their chins.