As hard as we may try to suppress it, our true nature comes out. Craig thought his bisexuality was in the rearview mirror. Then alcohol, THC, and opportunity offered him a chance to have sex with his neighbor, Allen.
All characters involved in any sexual activity are at least 18 years old
Fucking My Neighbor
Allen and I were part of a group of married couples in our small California town who had known each other for years. Our families were close, and every week in season, there was a cookout at one of our houses. There was nothing sexual about our little group except for some innocent flirting.
The women were close and traveled into the city frequently for shopping trips. The guys watched sporting events together and had a monthly poker game. We were the stereotypical small-town couples with kids, two cars, and mortgages.
Perhaps that was why I was so surprised when Allen and I had sex after the monthly poker game.
Allen and I were walking to my car after the poker game. As usual, I had lost, but since it was a penny-ante game, I wouldn't go bankrupt. I usually drive since he tends to overdo his drinking on poker nights. Driving all the time was getting old, but he was a good neighbor otherwise.
He and his wife moved into the subdivision fifteen years ago when my wife and I did. We bonded as young married couples will. We exchanged babysitting and even had one vanilla vacation where we shared a suite to keep the costs down. The sexiest thing that happened was I glimpsed his wife's slim behind when she got up to go to the bathroom during the night.
To the best of my knowledge, our group had no swingers, swappers, or sharers. There may have been a little grab-ass during some cookouts when everyone had a few drinks too many, but nothing salacious. We were just friends who were very comfortable with each other.
"Allen, you must stay awake to keep me company. I've been drinking too."
"I got you! Don't worry!"
I wasn't in much better shape. Carl, the host for the game this week, who lived on the other side of town, had purchased a THC vaporizer from the local dispensary. So, we spent the evening playing poker, drinking, and toking.
As I merged onto the expressway for our short drive home, Allen curled into a fetal position with his butt toward me and his head leaning against the seat, snoring like he was in a hog-calling contest.
Adding insult to injury, his sweatpants had ridden down, exposing most of his fat hairy ass. I was at that stage of high where your inhibitions are low enough that you make bad decisions.
Steering with one hand, I reached over and snatched Allen's sweatpants down, exposing all of his butt. Then I smacked him hard on it.
"Wake up, damn it! You're supposed to be keeping me company so I don't go to sleep at the wheel!"
"Wh...what? What did you say?"
He sat up in the seat, and the action caused his sweatpants to slip to his knees. I don't know what he was dreaming, but his dick was at attention.
"I said wake up! And pull your fucking pants up!"
"Okay! Okay," he mumbled drunkenly.
He pawed at the waistband of his sweatpants, twisting and turning in the passenger seat, trying to pull them up. He leaned onto me in the process, momentarily causing me to lose control of the car.
"HEY! Be careful! You're going to make me wreck!"
Somehow, one leg came out of his pants. He continued twisting and turning in the seat, trying to put his pants back on. He was unsuccessful and sprawled in the seat, exhausted. He was sweating profusely and soaked his sweatshirt. His sweatpants were still around his ankle, and he had the biggest hard-on I'd ever seen. With his pants around his ankles, sweating profusely, and his big cock hard, he passed out and started snoring again.
I was going to tell him to holster his weapon when the beer and THC we had at the poker game caused me to make a wrong decision. I should have slapped Allen's thigh and woke him up. Instead, I missed his thigh and slapped his cock. It wagged back and forth like a flagpole in a strong wind.
Allen mumbled something unintelligible and continued snoring.
Keeping one eye on the road, I saw that my neighbor had a monster cock, easily eight inches, with a knob as big as a billiard ball. It explained why his wife, Kay, was always so happy, and it made me salivate.
Throughout my marriage, with only a few slips, I had successfully suppressed my bisexuality.
One slip was on a sales trip to a distant city. I pulled off into a rest area to stretch my legs and take a piss. A 300-pound truck driver hit on me in the bathroom.
He stood beside me while I was pissing and commented that I had a nice size cock. I ignored him, finished peeing, and hurried to my car. He followed, making lewd comments about sucking my cock.
I'll never know whether it was fatigue from the drive or his persistence, but he convinced me to join him in the sleeper portion of his truck. We 69ed until he came in my mouth, then I fucked him in the ass until I came. I was ashamed and disgusted with myself as I sped down the highway afterward.
The other time was ten years later. I was attending a convention in a distant city. After a day of mind-numbingly dull seminars and dinner with some colleagues, I was in the hotel bar having a nightcap before retiring.
A stunningly beautiful woman bought me a drink. Flattered, I accepted, and we began chatting. It turned out she was a he. After we sucked and fucked in her suite, we were lying in bed bathing in the afterglow. She told me she hit on me because she picked up the bisexual vibe.
I had tried to suppress my bisexuality since I got married after college. I wanted to put that side of my life behind me and live a normal life.
My bisexuality began in college when I had a long-term relationship with my roommate. Keith and I were assigned to the same dorm room as freshmen. We went from awkward strangers to close friends to lovers in our four years of college.
It was never really serious enough to affect our social life on campus. We attended the keggers, drank too much at the fraternity house parties, and fucked the coeds. To all outward appearances, we were normal college students.
It began when Keith caught me clandestinely masturbating late one night. After getting over the embarrassment, he admitted that he also masturbated. At some point, we began watching each other masturbate. That led to mutual masturbation, which led to us sucking each other off.
Initially, we rationalized, using the weak excuse of pussy being in short supply on campus. By the time we were sophomores and fucking the coeds regularly, we admitted we just enjoyed sucking cock.
Occasionally, after a kegger or a wild off-campus party where we participated in drug and alcohol-induced orgies where we fucked multiple women, we would stagger to our dorm room and suck each other off. We managed to keep it a secret throughout college.
Our bisexual escapades ended when, in my final semester, I met the lady who would one day be my wife and have my children.
Keith was the best man when I got married. He followed the tradition of the best man arranging the bachelor party. However, given our history, he added a twist. Instead of scantily clad women dancing, the entertainment for my last night as a bachelor was two transsexual women.
We spent the evening fucking and sucking the transsexuals. It was the first and last time we brought others into our sexcapade. That night I lost my anal virginity to one of the transexuals and fucked Keith for the first time.
After the trans women left, Keith and I cuddled in the bed. He was cradled in my arms, stroking my cock while I caressed his ass. I realized that what was a hoot for two roommates was beginning to affect our friendship and our sexual orientation.
Until the bachelor party, I considered myself a straight guy who occasionally sucked cock. After the party, I knew I was bisexual. Fucking Kieth's ass while one of the transsexuals kissed and sucked his cock, and the other one knelt next to me, urging me on and cheering when I came in. Keith's ass was a turn-on like no other. I attended my wedding with at least three loads of cum in my belly and one in my ass.
After college, when our schedules permit, he and I still hooked up. We used to switch, but as we got older, Keith realized he was a natural Bottom, so mostly I fuck him.
However, he got promoted, and he and his family moved to the Midwest; my wife, our two kids, and I live on the Left Coast, so seeing each other is difficult.
Outside of scoping guys in the locker room after golf, I got back on the wagon. No more men!
However, I was high, Keith and I hadn't hooked up in close to a year, and Allen's big cock looked scrumptious. So, I reached over, took it in my hand, and squeezed it.
I guiltily snatched my hand away when he grunted and turned to face me. His cock was long enough to extend across the seat to the console between the seats.
We were about twenty minutes from home. I kept glancing over at Allen's cock, watching it pulse with his heartbeat.
I impulsively reached over, grabbed it again, and stroked it several times. When I pulled my hand away, his precum was on my fingers.
I halfheartedly attempted to open the console and get the tissues my wife kept there. Who was I fooling? I knew what I wanted to do. I took my precum-coated finger in my mouth and sucked it clean.
A thrill ran through my body. I had forgotten how good cum tasted. When I sucked off Keith, my college roommate, there was never an issue with me swallowing!
