Playing Through

In 2007, I was a 35 year old engineer living along the perimeter of a southern Division 1 school in the Appalachians. The golf course on campus wound beautifully through gentle slopes and along the banks of the local lake. My first year there, I quickly realized that Fall home games presented the perfect opportunity to have the course to myself. Most locals were already tailgating at the stadium at 8:00AM leaving me virtually by myself on the course. The cart attendant and the cashier were the only other people around and the attendant always looked like he'd rather be tailgating with his college friends than helping me, but he was very pleasant and always had that same orange T-shirt on. I arrived for my Saturday tee time on the morning of the second home game surprised to find another solo golfer waiting. Paul looked to be about 50, gray hair, but in good shape. He asked to join me and I acquiesced. The cart attendant put both our bags in a cart. Since Paul's clubs were on the driver's side I let him drive.

The round was enjoyable and we developed an ease with each other. We agreed to meet the next couple weeks to play again. We talked of his married life and my divorced life while we rode in the cart and while we putted on the green. He asked questions about the dating scene and took interest in my description of the women I had met. At first, I assumed he was living vicariously through me, the innocent fantasies of any married man, but then I began to sense that perhaps his interest was tactical.

"Are you having marital problems?" I asked.

"Our sex life is non-existant," he replied.

As we teed off at the 12th hole, I began to detail for him how well the relatively new Match and E-Harmony dating world was working out for me. I told him about my profile which I hoped was sophisticated and witty and that a reasonably attractive, successful, single man had scores of local women to chat with. I described the usual pattern of two or three chat sessions followed by an invitation to grab a cup of 'no-pressure' coffee. If we hit off, a date followed that weekend. In almost every case, I ended up dating the woman for four to eight weeks before the excitement ran its course and one of us ended the young relationship. The sex was varied and creative with most of the women, approximately 20 of them over my first three years, but with the ease of meeting new women, there was never any pressure to stay in a relationship that wasn't perfect. Hence the consistent four to eight week relationship cycle followed by a two to three week 'hunting phase.' Paul eagerly absorbed all the details I provided, and asked numerous questions, but I sensed an underlying disappointment.

"Of course, Match.com isn't an option for you unless you divorce," I said as we reached the 14th green. He nodded and grabbed his putter. We putted out without another word. As we headed for the 15th tee box. I broke the silence, "So, the sex is really good while I'm dating, but in between girlfriends there is that two to three week gap, before I end up in bed with the next woman." He looked over at me as I carefully formulated my next words as we sat in the cart. "In the last six months," I started, "I've discovered that it is really easy to find gay guys who will give me a blowjob during my 'dry' times."

His expression did not change, he didn't acknowledge, nor did he indicate any disapproval. I waited and waited, as we just looked at each other.

"Blowjobs from gay guys?" he finally asked, still no change in his blank expression.

"Yes," I nodded, "They can be really talented and are just thrilled to do it"

His eyes reflected the processing he was doing in his head; the sudden shift in his view of me, of the straight guy who lets guys blow him. Was he still comfortable with me now? What was the next thing to say? I knew what he was thinking, because I thought it six months ago when I let that first guy blow me.

"A lot?" he asked.

"During the four breaks I've had between girlfriends, I probably had a dozen blowjobs from guys."

Paul nodded gently, "I haven't had a dozen blowjobs in the last three or four years," he said, "And you've had a dozen from guys, and who knows how many from women in the last six months."

"Probably another thirty from the ladies," I surmised, realizing it likely wasn't something he wanted to hear.

He stepped out of the cart and grabbed an iron before heading to the tee box. I grabbed my club and followed. We played the hole discussing our shots and providing advice on distance and our estimated break on the putts. We congratulated each other on our mutual pars and climbed back in the cart. We played out the sixteenth hole, and got to the seventeenth green, before he stopped in his tracks, I turned back to look at him, "Do the guys swallow?" he asked.

I chuckled a bit at the abrupt return to our conversation, "So far 'yes', everytime. Most of the women, too!" He looked at me in amazement. "Once women get into their thirties, and have been through one or more relationships, they loosen up quite a bit," I explained, "Their inhibitions drop away. It may also have something to do with getting older and not wanting to lose their chance at a guy. I think the gay guys understand how much better it feels to cum in a mouth, rather than having to break the moment to warn the person sucking your cock." He was listening intently, "Sex is so much better now than when I was a teenager."

He absorbed the information and proceeded to the green. We finished the hole in silence, rode the cart to the 18th tee box and he paused before getting out. I waited for his next question. He stared straight ahead and said, "Do you think you could introduce me to one of your gay guys?" he finally turned to look at me as I started to answer. "JUST looking for a blowjob," he blurted before I could answer.

I nodded, "I think we can arrange something," and I stepped out of the cart to grab my driver. He met my eyes again at the rear of the cart. "In fact," I said, "I'd be happy to take care of that for you." He tilted his head and I realized the ambiguity in my statement, "Meaning, I could give you that blowjob," I clarified. I left him standing there and headed to the tee box. I hit my drive and waited as he walked slowly up to the tee box.

"You reciprocate when the gay guys suck you?" he asked, finally.

"The last two times I have, yes," I said, trying to sound as casual as possible, while my heart was thumping in my chest. I just admitted to a straight guy that I had recently drifted into bi-sexuality, a dimension I hadn't anticipated when I woke up this morning to play a round of golf. A thousand scenarios played simultaneously in my head. I looked at him and took some comfort in his quizzical look, in that there was no hint of disapproval or judgment.

"And..... do YOU swallow?" he asked.

I smiled and put my hand briefly on his shoulder, "Oh yeah!" I said and stepped aside to yield the tee box to him.

He hit his drive into the water and I suggested that he just drop on the other side. He picked up his tee and we climbed back into the cart. "From here," I offered, "We can go to my place and grab a quick shower and I can give you that blowjob." His hands stayed motionless on the wheel and he looked straight ahead. "'Or, we can shower in the clubhouse and then head to my place," I added

"I've got a change of clothes in the car," he said.

"Me too," I said, "When we drop our clubs in the car we can grab our change of clothes and go back to the clubhouse"

We put our clubs in our cars and each grabbed our change of clothes and walked together to the club house. "Still so damned quiet around here", I said,

"You'd think that we could hear some of the tailgating from here, but not a sound", he replied.

We entered the course locker room and not surprisingly found it empty. We wound through the first two aisles to the set of lockers adjacent to the showers and I and put my change of clothes on the top shelf of the first locker. Paul did the same, three lockers down the aisle. I sat and removed my shoes and socks, but when I lifted my shirt to pull it over my head, I felt uneasy. I'd stripped in a locker room next to a friend hundreds of times in my adult life, but this was odd. I'm sure Paul had as well; but if he was feeling strange, too, he didn't show any signs, other than the lack of conversation.

I sat shirtless and glanced at Paul to find him removing his shirt. His torso was nice, slightly thick, but in excellent shape for a man of fifty. 'I hope my body looks like that when I am fifty,' I thought to myself. As his shirt cleared his head I decided to be careful not to make him uncomfortable. I am keenly aware of the progression in his mind; the initial interest in cock, the initial revulsion at the thought and the iterative two steps forward and one step back as he explored his sexuality. But I didn't know where in this progression he was, and feared that any gay gesture from me might frighten him away as I had been frightened away my first couple of times. I was still in the early stages myself, having fully realized my attraction to the penis, but having not yet begun to find the man attached to it attractive. I stood, dropped my pants and underwear in one motion, placed them in the locker, grabbed a towel and headed to the shower stall, without once looking toward Paul. I was very much aware of my nudity and felt the cool air across my skin as I walked.

I chose the first stall on the right, reached in and turned on the water. I saw Paul approaching out of the corner of my eye. He was naked, but I couldn't make out any detail and didn't dare to look at him. He chose the first stall on the left directly across from mine, closed the curtain behind him and the shower started. I stepped into my stall but left the curtain open to allow him every opportunity to watch me shower. I glanced and saw that his curtain had a gap large enough for him to look through across the aisle and into my stall, if he chose. I hoped that was intentional on his part.

I soaked my hair and let the water stream down my body. I kept facing the shower head to ensure he didn't see my eyes, while hoping he was watching my back. I ran shampoo through my hair, then bent over to rinse it out exposing my ass ever so slightly. Water streamed down my crack cooling the taught skin of my anus. I felt wonderfully exposed whether he was watching me or not.

I soaped my body clean, attempting to appear as focussed on the task as any man in any locker room shower, but distracted by the pure eroticism of the moment, enjoying the swelling sensation in my cock. I lathered my hand and rubbed my erection and balls, certain that if Paul was watching, he could tell that I was stroking. I bent again and reached under to soap my anus, picturing how it must look to him, my soapy finger stroking my hole in his vantage point from behind. With each pass of my finger my anus spread a little further and for the first time in my life, I felt a tingling sensation in my ass. It was tantalizing and fresh and open, and I finally understood why bottoms like to bottom. I almost forgot about Paul, it felt so good. I caught myself and stood back up to let the water rinse my ass. I reached back and spread my cheeks to rinse fully. I imagined how I looked from Paul's shower stall.

I decided to turn around, but did so very slowly, with my eyes toward the floor, so Paul could avert his gaze if he was watching me. I needed him to see my fully erect cock, but didn't want to risk scaring him away after making so much progress. I stood tall facing his shower stall, my eyes closed and head back allowing the water to soak my scalp and run down my back. My hard cock was on full display and I was filled with pride.

I took a deep breath, opened my eyes toward the ceiling, slowly lowered my head and risked a glance through the gap in Paul's curtain. I could tell that he was facing my direction, but couldn't tell if he had been looking. I reached behind me to turn off the shower and wrapped my towel around my waste, taking a moment to press my erection against my stomach and tucking the towel tight. I returned to the locker and sat on the edge of the bench facing the showers, my towel covering my cock. Paul's shower turned off and I saw him grab his towel through the shower curtain. Moments later he emerged and looked me in the eye. I smiled and nodded gently. He stepped toward me and said "That felt good,"

I looked up to meet his eyes, "Nothing like a cool shower after a round of golf," I added. He stood still and it seemed neither of us knew what to say next. Then he tilted his eyes down his torso and I followed his gaze to find his towel tented. He was every bit as hard as I was. I audibly sighed at the sight and looked back up at him, "Why don't you open your towel," I said.

He grinned and reached down. I watched as he pulled one corner of the towel aside revealing his beautiful erection. I was captivated. His cock was a good size, as thick as the three cocks I had seen in-person and a little longer than two of them. His head was a delectable mushroom and I bit my lower lip. I again met his eyes with a huge smile and he stepped forward to bring his cock within an inch of my face. I leaned in to place my lips around his mushroom head and rested my tongue against his frenulum. His head felt more swollen then the previous cocks I sucked, seemingly swelling as I held it firmly between my lips. Smooth and spongy, I rolled the head around in my mouth. My cock pressed harder against my towel, but I didn't care, I was focussed on his cock. The sight of his shaft as it extended down to his stomach and his naked chest, and his balls dangling just at the edge of my vision, all framed by the mahogany of the lockers behind him reminded me that I was sucking on a man in a men's locker room. Any previous denial was now rendered useless. I was a gay man.

I swept my tongue up and down his frenulum then moved my lips down his shaft. His head slipped deeper across my tongue and I felt it brush the roof of my mouth. The warmth radiating from it seemed to coat my mouth. He moaned lightly, maybe not to sound too eager, maybe not to be heard outside the locker room. But that moan encouraged me and I explored all of his shaft with every corner of my mouth, that tender, plump head resting against the back of my tongue. I was absorbed in the moment, his cock not only occupying my mouth, but his masculinity filling my soul. I retreated back up his length and savored that sensation when my lips hit the backstop of his mushroom head signaling me to swirl my tongue around and under. His torso, his shaft, his balls, framed again by the mahogany lockers, and some light from the shower stalls, painted the perfect picture, plus a glimpse of orange from the far left of my vision.

He moaned again as I squeezed my lips slightly and pressed my tongue harder against his head, and took a moment to investigate that glimpse of orange, barely noticeable at the farthest periphery of my vision. I closed my eyes while I sucked, then opened them just the slightest so that I could see out, yet hoping my eyes appeared closed, and darted my eyes all the way to the left. Standing behind a row of lockers just peeking out was the cart attendant watching me suck Paul's cock. The attendant didn't realize that I saw him, but it drove me ever harder and I began to piston down and up Paul's shaft, squeezing my lips tight with each upward stroke. Paul was now gasping while I couldn't stop a smile from crossing my lips. The smile inevitably changed the angle of my mouth on his cock, but he reacted with deeper groans and my smile grew to encompass my whole face. I darted my eyes to the left and looked the attendant in the eye, not missing a stroke of Paul's cock and the attendant froze with a look of profound fear. I winked at him, while smiling, while sucking. I gave it a second and winked again, and the attendant started to relax his face and then just settled in to watch some more. I just kept sucking my first straight cock for his pleasure, for mine and for my audience as well.

My enthusiasm grew and I felt that telling enlargement in Paul's spongy head and he came. Squirts of cum splashed against the inside of my mouth and I moaned and swallowed and sucked and swallowed and kissed his head and swallowed some more. Paul took deep breaths, his head still tilted back and I enjoyed the opportunity to observe his fifty-year old chest move up and down while rolling my tongue all over his sticky cock head. And I looked to the left, Paul's softening cock still in my mouth and winked at the attendant one more time.

Paul regained his wits and mumbled, "Thanks for playing with me today."

"You're welcome," I said, "Looking forward to the next round."

He closed his towel and passed behind me to his locker to get dressed. I glanced quickly to my left, but the attendant was no longer there. I sat with my towel still around my waist covering my cock, processing the experience.

"If you hand me your phone I will send myself a text about next week's tee time so we have each other's contact info," I suggested. Paul tapped his phone on my shoulder so I could take it and I proceeded to send the text. I also added my address to the newly created contact so he knew where I lived. Paul finished dressing as I finished the address. I handed him his phone, taking a moment to make the exchange. He looked me in the eye and nodded.

"Sorry, I need to go," he said, grabbed his golf clothes and started toward the door.

"I understand," I said. I'd been where he was now and completely understood.

I waited a few moments after the door closed behind Paul then spoke up, "Are you still there?" I asked toward the lockers to my left. The attendant appeared slowly and stood a few feet away and awaited my next move. "I hope that didn't shock you," I said.

"No," he replied, and I took the opportunity to get a good look at him. I hadn't realized earlier the soft, demure nature of his face. He was almost pretty. His body was thin yet with gentle contours. He was every bit as attractive as any college girl.

"I'm Mark," I offered.

"Josh," he answered, "I liked watching you in the shower," he continued, "and then couldn't believe it when you took his cock in your mouth."

I smiled and mused that all the time I was trying to show myself off to Paul in the shower, that Josh was watching., "I was as surprised as you that this happened," I said.

"But he didn't help YOU out," Josh said.

"No. This was his first time. We can give him a pass," I said and I smiled to reassure him that I was good, "But you're right. I'm not finished," I said, pulling my towel off my lap to show him my erection. Josh's deep inhale was encouraging while he stared at my cock. I invited him in with a shift of my eyes and he stepped forward to the spot where Paul had been standing, looked back to my eyes and dropped to his knees between my legs.

He placed his hands on my thighs and fixed his gaze on my cock just a few inches from his mouth. The anticipation was intoxicating, I watched him sit motionless, his eyes affixed. The warmth of his breath coated my cock each time he exhaled. I waited patiently, content with my legs spread, my balls hanging by the end of the bench, my cock proud, exposed completely to this young, beautiful man.

Josh lowered his head and I watched my cock slide into his pretty mouth. The warm, moist sensation swept down the length of my shaft. His tongue rested on my tip. He held me there, in his mouth, inhaling, exhaling. He gently closed his eyes. My cock head swelled. My mind went blank, but for the realization that my cock could never be in a better place. He raised his head, ever so slowly until he just engulfed the tip, then just as slowly lowered his head back down again. The most peaceful look crossed his face as he raised, then lowered his head. Each upward caress felt like it was drawing cum from my prostate through my tubes a little bit more with each suck. Three, four, five cycles of his petite, succulent mouth and the swelling expanded from my prostate to fill my entire lower body. His sixth upward suck and I felt my hot juices surge into the base of my cock. His seventh upward suck and I felt those hot juices rush the entire length of my shaft. My cum erupted into his mouth, pulse after torrid pulse; his mouth an equal part of my body, perfectly designed to receive my flow. We were one in those moments, my cock spurting, his throat rhythmically swallowing. Six, seven, eight strong pulses, followed by softer spasms until the last of my seed flowed. I looked at his beautiful face, his eyes peacefully shut, my cock motionless in his tender mouth.