The last few weeks have been a mental struggle for me. It started when I showed up for a first time meeting with a fan of my stories on Literotica but he failed to make it. We'd been corresponding for months and this was the first time that our schedules allowed us to meet. He's from out of state but visits the area monthly. I'm working full time but had a day off for routine doctor's visits. His last email clearly said "Let's meet at 5 pm" and he wasn't there. I was left standing by my car in the parking lot of a fast food joint feeling betrayed; feeling disappointment.
The drive home gave me time to think. Maybe I was played. Maybe he watched from a distance and took pictures. Maybe he's laughing at my eagerness to meet him and become his "bottom". Maybe this is a sign that it is not meant to be. I should give up my quest for deeper and deeper involvement in gay sex.
I became a cock sucker two years ago. It's an old story; wife lost interest in sex and I became curious. Then I started to try to act out. I found two partners who enjoyed my ministrations; one even reciprocated. But that was the extent of their interest; oral sex. I must say, I loved every minute whether on my knees or lying with them in bed. We are all older married men who spent the first thirty years of our lives as faithful husbands. Sure, our eyes wandered but we never broke our word and in a sense we are still faithful. We pledged to live in holy matrimony. One mother for our children and in that we have been faithful. It's splitting hairs; it's a rationalization but it's true. So maybe this was a sign that I should rethink things; take stock of what I could loose, grand kids, nieces and nephews and their families. Respect at work and at home; hell, my home!
It seemed clear, put the gay experiment aside; go back to being "grandpa". Keep the memories but put the life aside.
That is what I did until we took the boys (our two grand sons from my second son) to Mammoth Cave, KY. We stayed in the tourist cabins. These are rustic frame and wooden siding cabins. Two large rooms that share a bathroom; so nineteen forties! No air conditioning, no carpets and no TV! I think the boys thought we were in a third world country! I grew up in an apartment that shared a bath when my father went back to college in the early fifties. There were rules. One, if you intended to take a shower you knocked on the door of the other apartment and announced your intention. This gave them time to attend to any necessary business before you took your shower. Two, when in the bathroom you locked the other sides door from the inside; to prevent any embarrassment of course.
We stayed multiple days and all went well. Occupants of the other side respected us and we them until one afternoon when my wife took the boys to the pool and I stayed behind to read a book about the discovery of connections between the historic cave and other caves in the area. The husband of the couple next door came back to the cabin for a shower. My grand kids didn't close our door when they got ready to go to the pool. When he was drying his hair he stepped between the doors of the rooms. He wasn't facing me but in profile I could see a beautiful cut penis; normal in every way but still beautiful. The epitome of male beauty! I couldn't take my eyes off it. As he continued to dry his hair he suddenly saw that the door was pen and I was in the room. He immediately dropped the towel to cover himself and apologized.
