All participants are over 18
*****
"Don't wait up," I said as I kissed my beautiful wife good-night.
"Give Rog my love," Lori said.
I nodded as I headed out the door, thinking my friend Rog was already getting enough love from one of us without her joining in.
Rog was one of my oldest and dearest friends going all the way back to high school, and I'd known his wife, Carol, almost as long. When we all lived in the same town, Rog and Carol and Lori and I were almost inseparable, going out to bars, sports events and shows together, and taking turns holding weekend suppers and barbecues. Our friends eventually took high-paying factory jobs on the other side of the county and moved away to their new town. Our get-togethers became less frequent.
On a rare pub night one night about a year ago, Rog confided to me that his wife's sex drive had dropped off and he wasn't getting any pussy. He was frustrated and desperate for release. He was almost too good to cheat, but only almost; he eventually let me blow him. I felt just a little bad exploiting him to fulfil my long-brewing desire to suck a cock, but once we got over the weirdness, we looked at the activity as mutually beneficial, fulfilling our differing needs. After breaking the ice that first time, we began to meet once or twice a month. I performed oral on him each time without any expectation of reciprocation. He had recently told me that I sucked cock better than anyone in his experience, even his wife; I was flattered and aroused by the compliment. I couldn't return his compliment with comparisons, as his was the only cock I had ever sucked, but I did praise his dick and his endurance.
Needless to say, we kept our liaisons secret from our wives and the world. After all, neither of us thought of himself as gay. I'm sure Rog told himself, given the choice, he would pick Carol's willing pussy over my eager lips and tongue. I had a strong desire to worship cocks, but I was not attracted to men as a whole; I still had an active, healthy sex life with Lori.
This was our first pub night of the month. It was a cold Friday night in November and I was ready to unwind after a stressful week at work. I needed beer almost as much as I needed cock.
There was spring in my step. I wanted to get out of the cold and into the warm car as quickly as possible, but there's no denying I was also excited about drinking beer and swallowing semen.
I arrived at the passenger side door only to see that the seat was occupied. I couldn't see who it was, as the passenger window was fogged up on the inside, but it was obvious I needed to get in the back seat. I was disappointed; did the extra passenger mean my sperm feast was cancelled?
I opened the back door and got in quickly, sitting behind the passenger.
"Hi, Rog," I said. "Good to see you."
"Hi," Rog said with a nod. His voice sounded nervous. "You remember Gill, don't you?"
Gill turned around and it took me a moment to place him with his face lit only by the glare from the dashboard.
Gill and I were barely acquainted. He was a couple of years ahead of me in high school and we had some of the same friends, including Rog and Carol, but, for whatever reason, we only rarely socialized in the same circles. I remembered a couple of such occasions: once, when Lori and I attended a wedding several years ago, we were seated at the same table with Gill and his wife, Marina; she was a real beauty. We met again at Rog's father's funeral a short time later. From our brief conversations, I believed Gill was some kind of salesman.
Gill and I exchanged greetings. He was a handsome man in his mid-fifties. He was clean-shaven and had a full head of curly brown hair. His build was average, neither truly fit nor fat, but somewhere in the middle. And his middle was his weakness; there was a noticeable (but not obese) bulge of beer belly there. Jeans showed below his winter coat.
"Gill and Marina had dinner at ours tonight and when he heard about our little pub crawl—"
He invited himself along, I thought.
"—his wife gave him permission to come out with us."
"That's great," I said, sounding more enthusiastic for Gill's presence than I felt. After all, a third party pissed on my plans for alone-time with Rog's cock.
We pulled out of my driveway and, a few minutes later, we were parked outside our usual watering hole of choice. We hustled inside and were lucky enough to find a recently-vacated booth; the seats were still warm. The waitress cleared the table, sanitized it, and took our orders. Soon we were all washing the week's dust out of our throats.
Gill was a responsible driver; he had only one beer and stuck to soft drinks for the hour that followed. Gill and I indulged ourselves considerably more. With the social lubrication of alcohol, I found I liked Gill much more than I had before. He held forth on a variety of subjects from current affairs to sports to entertainment. He was interesting to talk to. By contrast, Rog hardly said anything. His brow was furrowed and I thought he looked worried. Was he bummed out that Gill's presence stuck a pin in any blowjob plans he might have had for tonight? I shrugged it off and kept drinking; his doing, not mine. I lost count of the beers I finished. I wasn't exactly hammered, but I was certainly feeling no pain.
Eventually, Gill looked at the time on his phone.
"Eleven o'clock, Rog."
"What's that?" I said. "Pffft. The night is young."
"I promised to have him back at my place for one," Rog said.
"So... it's less than an hour's drive. Plenty of time. Let's stay 'n' drink."
"Sorry," Rog said.
"No can do," Gill said, reinforcing Rog. "We have a stop to make before we drop you off home."
"What stop?" I asked.
Rog signalled to the waitress to bring us our bills. I was distracted from the question of where we were stopping and why, as I applied my impaired concentration to counting out the right number of bills and change to pay for my drinks. By the time I was finished squaring up with the waitress, my companions were already in their coats. I quickly donned my own coat and followed them out into the cold.
We trudged through a light skiff of snow to reach the car. Rog opened the back door and pulled out his snow-brush. He gestured to me to sit down inside. Rog closed the door for me. A second later, Gill opened the other door and joined me in the back. Even through a haze of alcohol, this seemed strange. Why hadn't Gill resumed his seat in the front?
After brushing the snow off the car, Rog settled into the driver's seat and started the car. We pulled out and Rog started driving down a nearby rural road which led to one of our secret "parking" spots.
"Where are you going?" I asked nervously, for the first time experiencing a premonition of what was to come.
"I think you know," Rog said in a shaky voice.
"Tell him," Gill told Rog.
Rog hesitated and then sighed. It was still several long moments before he spoke.
"Last week, Gill and I got together and had a few drinks. Uh, quite a few actually. We got talking and the subject of sex came up. I swear I didn't mean to say anything, but we started talking about our wives and their... techniques. When we got to discussing blowjobs, I guess I let slip that the best oral I ever had was not from my wife. Well, Gill is a persistent guy and he went after me to tell him the whole story. I tried not to, but I guess I was a little proud of having a tame cocksucker servicing me. Sorry to call you that; you know I don't mean it out of disrespect... Anyway, he got it out of me that the best hummers of my life had been given to me by another man. He asked who the man was. I held out for a while, but eventually I thought, what the hell, you two don't even know each other, or so I thought. I didn't expect him to recognize your name, but he did; he remembered you from high school and a couple of events you'd both attended. The talk turned to how good you are with that dirty mouth of yours and Gill asked me to set up tonight for him to find out for himself..."
Rog, you dumb fuck, I thought.
It was a good thing that Rog didn't get drunk when he and his wife were having an evening of bridge at our house, as we had done last month; I imagined him telling my wife all about the oral skills I frequently practiced in the back of his car. In my imagination, her reaction was not very encouraging.
"Well, I'm sorry, Gill. You've been misled. Whatever Rog told you, I'm not in the habit of, uh, blowing guys."
"Not guys, no. Just one guy. About every two weeks for the past year; I hate to tell you this, but any behaviour practiced that regularly... well, that's definitely a habit."
