Looing for a Husband

Suddenly single, I found myself taking stock of my situation and where my desires should lead me. I knew what I wanted. I wanted to be another man's wife. Yes, that is a very gay thing to say, but it was what was inside me for so long. Earlier in life as my sexual journey evolved, I had incidences of having sex wearing panties and dresses for other males in high school and college. Due to family and societal pressures I always denied I might be gay and did everything to prove to myself and the world that I wasn't gay, even marrying a sweet young woman.

While married, I had a number of clandestine encounters with other men while I cross-dressed. The exhilaration I felt about having sex with a masculine man while I was dressed in women's clothing and how feminine it made me feel really defined my sexuality. I never viewed myself as trans, I just really relished the sensation of being a feminine acting homosexual.

One-time sexual encounters with anonymous partners were very shallow and for me, unsatisfying. I would rather have had a few encounters with the same guy than many encounters with many different guys. The one thing missing was any emotional connection, any continuity. I would have rather had a boyfriend who knew me and wanted me. While I was married, I did have a wonderful affair I had with another married man, that told me what was really in my heart.

There are a number of labels that are put on men who cross-dress for sex with other men; sissy, faggot, queer, fairy. These labels didn't particularly bother me because I am comfortable in my acceptance of my type of sexuality and I feel no shame that I have effeminate tendencies when it comes to sex. I have had sexual encounters with other men when there were no panties, no lingerie, no wig, no props yet my sense of femininity was still there. Having sex with a man always made me feel feminine.

There are "flaming" homosexuals who come off as blatantly over the top gay. With eye makeup, a lisp in the voice, a female scarf over boy's clothing, this is the stereotypical 'fag' society loves to make fun of. While I love wearing makeup, love acting fem and act faggy with a silly lisp at times and might lean androgynous, overtly that was not me. If you met me on the street or in a workplace, yes you might have imagined that I am gay; I was not the most masculine looking guy around.

Some people would peg me as gay while I was in denial that I really was gay. More than once, pompous Alpha males pegged me as a fag. After several years of marriage my wife didn't think I was gay, though as our marriage fell apart, she suspected and confronted me on this. Deep down inside, I came to know I was feminine and gay. Even being barefoot in jeans and a tee shirt and being with a guy I always felt feminine. It was always what I wanted; to be a masculine man's clingy, gay boyfriend, always wanting to take off my shirt and be topless for him and open up my jeans so he could fondle my cock as we kissed, to make me his girl.

Thinking back, I was always a bottom. Long ago there were these gay chat line numbers to call to hook up or phone sex with other guys and the other guys would ask "are you a top or a bottom?" Took me a while, many years in fact, years into a marriage to a woman to realize I am a total bottom. While married to Susie, the opportunity to cross-dress and explore my femininity blossomed. During this time, I had quite a number of anonymous sexual encounters with other men while crossdressing. It was one thing to put on panties and lingerie then masturbate. To learn makeup skills, learn how to walk in high heels, put on a dress (and look hot in it) and a wig and do this for sex with another man, that is another thing entirely.

There is a saying - "It is politically incorrect but factually accurate to say that cross dressing and homosexuality are closely related." I could not agree more. Straight men do not wear women's clothing to have sex with other men. Most gay men do not wear women's clothing to have sex with other men. Many crossdressers who are closet homosexuals do, and that was case with me. But it was more than just the women's clothing, it was how I felt inside. Even not wearing panties, makeup or a dress I still felt incredibly feminine climbing naked into bed with another man. A lot of bisexual men like to play with the cocks of other men, but have no desire for intimacy with another man. Not me, the way I would hungrily kiss another man and how feminine it made me feel was a strong indication how gay I really was.

So, knowing all this and being free to pursue my desires, I knew how I wanted to proceed. I did not want anonymous sex with strangers. Did not want to go to a gay bar to meet men. I was patient. I wanted to date and find a nice guy. What was my plan? Match.com. Yes, Match.com, old fashioned but reliable. I could put out there who I was and what I was looking for and take it from there, take my time, date and see what shakes out. Here was my ad:

"Tall, thin (5'10"/140lb) male 31, looking for a nice guy who knows how to treat a femininely inclined male like a lady. Equally comfortable in jeans and a tee shirt or panties and a dress. I'm a total bottom and quite possibly "wife" material. I know this is shallow of me but I am a size queen."

I left it at that and figured that was enough to get things rolling, I could screen the responses as they came in. And boy, did a lot of responses come in! I only posted a few pics, some were of me in "guy" mode but I also posted a few glamour shots of me all dolled up in a dress, heels. a wig and perfect makeup. I was flattered I received so many responses, I had the pick of the litter. I also had a plan, wanting a lasting relationship more than just fleeting sex. My method was simple; date with the 1st date being at neutral site like a coffee shop to break the ice. Talk on the phone after that and let the man take the lead on suggesting/asking out for a second date, and if there seemed to be enough chemistry, he could take charge for a third date.

And in the initial contact with my suitors, I let them know up front there would be no sex on any of the first three dates. I knew that if there was any spark or potential there would certainly be a "goodnight" kiss at the end of the second or third date. That was my plan and I stuck with it. The first two dates I would be in male clothing and also the third date more than likely as well, it would just have to be how I felt about the guy, what we would be doing, where we would be going.

Despite maintaining a male-to-male persona in this dating ritual's early stages, I knew that if it ever got further and the opportunity ever presented itself for me to dress femme for a suitor would be lightning in a bottle. In past experiences dressing femme around other males my true nature blossomed. Though I fought it that I might be gay all my life up until deep into my marriage with Susie, in the back of my mind something told me I was really gay. Perhaps the two incidents incidents of cross dressing and having sex with other guys galvanized this behavioral sensation in me. One incident was in high school, the other was in college.

In this less than "organic" method of online dating things started slow and I was leery to proceed too fast. There was a half dozen "first" dates at coffee shops and a few "second" dates at various locales but nothing seemed to be clicking. Tony, Jason, Martin, Andrew and John were some of the first and second dates. Martin seemed like the best prospect and we actually hit it off pretty well but after the second date on a bike ride in City Park, I never heard back from him.

Tony was very interested and we actually had a third date which ended in some kissing and heavy petting. It took everything I had in me not to have sex with him, but in the back of my there were a few dots that I could not connect. Something told me that sex with Tony would be heaven but a long-term relationship would be less so. Still, Tony was pressing the issue when Martin called me nearly a month later while Tony was still in the picture.

Seems that Martin had some loose ends with his ex-wife and teenage daughter to deal with in the middle of a calamity of events at his tech firm. He was sincere and apologetic asking if he still had a chance with me. It caught me a little off guard but something about what I felt inside led me to a third date with Martin. After a casual meal and a stroll through the shopping district we ended up hand in hand in a gazebo in the park on a fall evening. It was warm but a hint of crispness in the air as we leaned together on the railing. I felt like a girl; I felt butterflies in my stomach as Martin put his arms around my waist and pulled me close.

A soft kiss followed by his nuzzling my neck and face with his short scruffy beard led to a hungry, passionate kiss. Any trepidation I may have had about Martin evaporated as we romanced like teenagers in the gazebo. Certainly, I felt a spark with Martin that any of the others failed to ignite. In our kissing and petting we could both feel each other's hardness. With his mouth forcefully on mine and his manly paws grabbing my ass cheeks through my pants our passions were close to spilling over. Remaining true to my plan I found a way to disengage somehow without being total slut and blowing him then and there. While I wanted Martin to want me, like any good girl I was not going to throw myself at him, he'd need to earn it.

Nearly fifteen years older and taller than me, stockier and hairy, we were very opposite in terms of masculinity; he came off as very masculine, even with short greying hair and receding hairline his piercing blue eyes and wry smile seemed to tickle my sense of femininity. I was the opposite at best; still boyish, nearly hairless even when not shaving, lithe, soft features and looks that were overtly androgynous. If Martin was a gay man seeking attraction to an equally masculine man, it certainly would not be me.

All the next day at work I was both distracted in questioning where things might lead with Martin and floating inside how he made me feel emotionally and sexually. It was a Thursday afternoon as I was getting ready to calling it a day when I got a text from Martin inviting me over to his place. Replying that I would love that, he gave his address and said to come on in, the door would be unlocked.

After letting myself in his place, it was quiet as I called out for him. After a brief pause, I heard him say "in here" as I followed the sound of the voice to his bedroom. Upon entering his room, he was in bed with only a sheet covering him and clearly without clothing. I'm not sure this would be the way a man would approach things if it was him newly dating a woman, I'm guessing not. Gay men are different and while I approached dating from a female perspective, this was a connection that a gay man would find extremely difficult to resist. It was certainly difficult for me to resist as I stood next to him by the bed.

"Hi. Glad you are here," Martin said matter of fact-ly, bathed in sunlight of the late afternoon.

Pheromones and adrenaline took over for me as I peeled off my shirt, kicked off my shoes and unbuckled my pants. I had on a pair of simple, silky light pink bikini panties, I wanted him to see my innate femininity, so it was pretty apparent that an erection was growing as my clothes came off and I climbed into bed, stopping only to remove my socks. Crawling up into his arms as he pulled the sheet back, I was enveloped by his warm hairy masculinity. We kissed hungrily and it was only natural that my hand grabbed his hairy hard cock as he forced his tongue into my mouth. Being there naked in his arms with his masculine mouth on mine was an unexpected break in our mating ritual and only served to reinforce my sense of femininity and confirm my homosexuality.

I was lithe, hairless, soft and smooth and being in his masculine arms gave me a shiver of arousal that rocked my senses. The sexual nerve endings and endorphins gave me the sensation of being a naked boy in a grown man's bed. I felt like precious gold to his wonderful touch as our bodies pressed together, his naked, hairy and masculine, mine smooth, soft and clad in pink panties.

In pleasant union Martin pressed his cock onto mine and stroked them together with his hairy hand. His cock was much bigger, fatter and a large mean looking helmet head. Encased as it was in a forest of thick black hair you could hardly see his large balls, it was a work of art, chiseled in stone, worthy of my admiration. The best way I could show my admiration was to sink my mouth over it and start sucking it. As my mouth found it, with the nasty, erotic taste of penis filling my senses, Martin rubbed my short hair, held and guided my head over his cock as my mouth bathed it in warm wetness. He softly hummed "mmmmmmmm".

After all my theatrics about this whole 'dating ritual' thing I was acting like a stuck-up bitch for the most part. Martin broke through my barriers and brought things to the lowest common denominator by encouraging me to be what I was at heart, a homosexual who loved sucking cock. This I could not deny as my eager cock sucking stirred the arousal in both of us to an incredible loving connection. There is only ever one "first time" between you and another person.

If fortunate enough both parties are so enamored by this connection, it will be an illuminating spark that leads to a lasting bond. Though the lasting effects of a wonderful "first time" are only revealed in time, as the event is underway the magic is undeniable. Sucking Martin's cock with such enthusiastic gusto, my own cock as hard as it ever felt, this told him a great deal about how we would interact with each other.

After greedily sucking, licking, tasting his cock for the longest time, I surfaced for a breath of air and melted back into his arms for another hungry, passionate, homosexual kiss. I was a pliable mess of sexual desire as his hands roamed over my smooth skin and his big paw again grasped my tacky, leaking, stiff penis through the silky panties. He slid the panties off and rubbed his big paws over my tingling penis and tender tushie. Grabbing my soft, round girlish buns in each hand during a heated kiss Martin pulled me up over his face as his masculine raspy mouth and tongue bathed my smooth shaved balls and penis soon engulfing it in his mouth. Not sure anything may have felt better as the sensation was driving me wild. It was such an erotic decadent obscene carnal sensation that I was embarrassed and guilty about how good it felt.

It might feel good to have woman suck your cock but when the sensation of a man's mouth sucking your cock feels above and beyond what you ever felt with a woman, it's fairly certain you are gay. Same goes for kissing another man; if that thrills you more than kissing a woman, the same certainty is true.

While Martin's mouth was thrilling me beyond anything I had expected so soon in our relationship, when he flipped me on my stomach, pulled my legs apart and his stiff warm wet tongue molested my tight boy bung hole, a wave of unimaginable pleasure washed over my being. This sensation had been tepidly applied to me a handful of times before by both men and women, but never as earnestly and enthusiastically as this. All the guilt and embarrassment of enjoying this so very much were tenfold what I had felt mere moments earlier when he bathed my balls and penis with his tongue and had it in his mouth. Squirming and writhing in unabashed pleasure as his tongue assaulted my boi pussy deep inside I knew only one thing would feel better than this.

On one level I was not sure I was ready for that so early in our relationship (my stuck-up bitch thinking) though everything I was feeling up to this point told me it would be one of the best fucks either of us had ever had. Martin pulled me up with my back to his front spooning me, kissing and nuzzling my neck tonguing my ear, whispering throatily "you're so fucking hot". His hard cock pressed along the crease of my ass cheeks as I reached my face back for a kiss. Martin reached down and pressed the helmet head of his magnificent cock at my tight hole whispering "are you okay with this? I'm safe."

Throwing caution to the wind hoping that this would be okay so soon in our relationship, I whispered back "I'm okay" as we kissed again. He reached in the nightstand for some lube and soon began to push his cock at my tight hole from behind. I had been fucked by guys before but it had been quite a while and not sure I had ever taken a cock this big. Honestly it hurt quite a bit and first and I was close to telling him to stop but Martin was gentle and persistent and kept probing and poking, entering more and more. Then it happened, his cock began to slide in and out with ease. This was such an amazing feeling getting butt fucked by a man, the warmth of his body against me, hot breath on my neck his masculine desires filling my boy cunny.

Going over to Martin's I was expecting more kissing and fondling, I was not sure I would end up in his bed like this with his cock deep inside me. If you are a gay bottom (like me) this what your sexuality is all about. The sensation of getting fucked defines your sexual role, defines what excites you and turns you on the most. Being penetrated by another man makes you feel feminine. It does for me anyway. Being sexually involved with a masculine man has always made me feel girly. The journey to this place in my sexuality, acknowledging that I wanted to be a man's "girl", was one of discovery in my being. I can't really explain that all those years being attracted to the beauty of women, turned on by naked and clothed women, that it spoke to a part of my animus about how I identified sexually. Being feminine, acting and dressing feminine, interacting with men in a feminine role was what led me to this special moment in bed with Martin.

I was wearing nothing feminine, no panties, lingerie or makeup, yet as he thrust his hard cock deep up into me making me squirm and moan, I was such a girl, his masculinity made me feel so feminine getting butt fucked from behind in this manner. I was his girl. He knew this as his hands roamed over my smooth, soft hairless body and his big manly hand grasped my hard cock as we lay on our sides and he steadily fucked me.

His hairy warm body enveloped my soft smooth hairless one as the afternoon sun lessened enriching the amber glow of the room. On our sides we were joined his front to my back as he thrust his cock firmly up into me and nuzzled and kissed the back of my neck and nibbled my ear. As Martin butt fucked me from behind, he grasped my penis as his thrusts picked up intensity. Then it happened. I could tell he was about to cum as his hand on my penis quickened and in a series of long hard stabs of his cock up into me and his orgasmic moans signaled his climax. My hard penis ached in his hand has his orgasmic shuddering subsided.

Martin jacked on my cock in firm strokes and when he throatily whispered in my ear "cum for me princess" that's all it took. I replaced his hand on my penis with my own and frantically masturbated myself to a stunning cum blast, messing my excited cummies over his bed sheets. Martin tenderly bit my shoulder as the consummation of our romancing took hold. With his still firm manhood still up into his "princess" he whispered tender comments like "you're so hot" and "what a doll you are", things I really loved hearing.

Eventually Martin's hardness subsided and his cock slid out of me but we remained joined as he nuzzled my necked and nibbled on my ear whispering his satisfaction "mmmmmmmmm". We were a little damp from sweat and more than a little damp from his cum oozing from my boy cunny and on the sheets. His hand glazed over my cummies on the bed and he brought a sticky hand to my flat chest and smeared the stickiness on my hard nipples playfully. For the longest time we remained snuggled together in adoring warmth. Softly he spoke: