Ten Years Later...

I grew up in a very conservative part of the United States, a place where, if you were out, you were very quietly so. Though I'd known I was queer for years before, I really didn't feel comfortable exploring that side of myself until my early twenties arrived. The only openly gay person I knew was the choir director at the church I attended, who, when I confessed my own sexual orientation, was immediately sympathetic and more than willing to educate me on the particulars.

"I'll be glad to answer any questions you might have," he said, immediately, as though I wasn't the first gay man he'd ever schooled in the particulars. As for myself, I knew he meant what he said and I acknowledged it came from the heart. But most questions I'd had could only be solved by direct experience, and I didn't have the courage quite yet to attend the one and only gay bar in town. I would, in time, but that's another story for another time. And the only other confirmed queer kid I'd known had just moved to Texas, so with his departure went my only available opportunity to at least theoretically experiment sexually with another man.

I really wanted to seduce the choir director, as I trusted him. He seemed safe enough, harmless and passive, even though the age difference between us was massive. One big problem though: he had a partner. Still, I made friendly overtures, and after months of convivial conversation—one day that followed the service—he offered to drive me over to his residence so that we could watch a film together. That was at least the stated intent, but I admit I had other ulterior motives.

We got about halfway through the film before I put my plan into action. We'd been sitting next to each other on a comfortable couch in his den. Sensing my opportunity, I spontaneously buried my face in his crotch and with my right hand rapidly unzipped his fly. He grew instantly hard. I pulled out his rapidly expanding erection with my right hand and began rapidly masturbating it, same as I would for my own penis, rubbing the soft skin up and down the shaft.

Caught completely off guard, he moaned involuntarily, and I could tell he wasn't going to turn this opportunity down, partner or no partner. I'd never sucked a cock before, but I'd certainly fantasized about it. In those days, before the Internet, I had to make my way downtown to the adult bookstore to obtain my porn, which was my first source of erotic education. My first involved sexual fantasies about men came from these glossy magazines, and I read the stories printed in their pages, interspersed, of course, with pictures. I had some idea of what to expect from gay sex, based on what I had read, and I was quite curious to experience it for myself.

I took as much of the shaft as I could into my mouth, trying to keep my teeth as far removed as I could from what I knew was an intensely sensitive organ. I found, much to my satisfaction, that I could perform head with ease. I didn't have much of a gag reflux and while I couldn't necessarily take in as much as I would have liked, I found myself more than up to the task. And, I liked it. I liked the tactile sensation and the arousal it provided me personally as well as the arousal it provided to whomever I was pleasuring.

By now he had closed his eyes. "Oh God, Oh God, Oh God," he kept repeating, like a sex mantra. I was a bit surprised at how long the process was taking. Ignorant as I was then with the entire process, I figured the whole thing would be over in a matter of a couple minutes. Had I timed it, I think from start to finish he lasted for about ten minutes.

He made sure to let me know that he was going to ejaculate in my mouth well before it happened.

He momentarily took a pause from being serviced, snapping back into reality, in order to confirm something quite crucial. "Are you sure you want to take this?"

I nodded up and down.

Once again, my assumptions were challenged. I expected forceful volumes of semen, one after the other, shooting down the back of my throat. I expected what I had seen from porn DVDs and those glossy magazines. Instead, I received the faintest volume of cum, and with it a kind of world-weary disappointment on his behalf.

"You've had to do so much, for so little. It's all been you." He said this, crestfallen, head down, as though he was a failure in some regard.

And though he never had to say it directly, I knew he was feeling guilty. I certainly wasn't. I was feeling elated. This had been a joyful experience for me. I'd always managed somehow to try to trick myself into thinking that I wasn't really queer, that all these feelings were some sort of elaborate mind game, but all the rhythms, patterns, and actions I read described in those stories had come true in the end.

To be sure, I was never again invited to the house, but we retained our friendship. I showed up thirty minutes prior to the service, often with a new piece of music for him to examine. If he could play it on the organ or the piano, he would, and we developed a wonderful friendship, even if we were never intimate again. He got a job with a different church. Our friendship lapsed a little.

Flash forward ten years. I'd been away from the city where I grew up for most of a decade. We'd kept in touch with each other periodically by text. I lost my job in the big city and had to move home to take care of my parents. We met at the church where he was now senior minister of music as we had many years before. I playfully suggested to him that we give sex another try, fully expecting him to shoot me down again, certain I was joking. Surprisingly, he was now up for it.

"But what about Joey?"

He frowned. "Joey is like a spoiled little brat now. I still live with him. I still put up with his bullshit. I just can't bear to kick him out. We haven't had sex in five years."

I leapt at the opportunity. "Well, what if we gave it a try again? I'd love you to finally fuck me. Remember all the times you told me you jerked off, all the time thinking about having me all to yourself."

His face was pained. "I'd love to, bud, but I've got almost no money left now."

"Todd," I replied. "Don't be ridiculous. We can find a cheap motel somewhere. I can afford it."

Interjecting before he got a single word out, I said: "I want to make this happen. This has been our mutual fantasy for a very long time. Nothing you say is going to talk me out of my desire for you. You may call yourself a silver daddy now, you may talk down your looks, but I'm not exactly young myself anymore, am I? Why do you keep resisting?"

I finally convinced him to go along with all of it, but I seriously questioned his choice of venue. True, he had a set of keys to the church and also true, we'd probably be the only ones there at the time, but it was still a risky move. And, such spaces were never designed for physical comfort.

We eventually found a reasonably cushioned sofa inside the young adult room, but I still couldn't understand why paying even $75 was out of his pay range. I hadn't been that poor since my college days, and by now I was forty, not a young pup anymore. Although my job didn't by any means make me wealthy, the two of us could have been quite comfortable elsewhere.

"Do me one favor," he requested, purposefully.

"Flash me your man bush."

I eagerly complied. He took an appreciative and lustful glance. Years before, I had told him that I had been shaving and sometimes waxing my pubic hair, a practice which to him was like sacrilege.

I'd certainly come prepared. I brought along some lube for the occasion, as I have learned the hard way (no pun intended) that I'm exceptionally tight. Standing upright in the room, I swiftly removed all my clothing, after which I lay down face up, back resting against the sofa. He stood upright, hovering over me, surveying my completely naked front.

"Oh," he said, chuckling to himself as he took the whole sight in, "I could just cum all over you."

"You can, if you want to, Todd." I was reminded of the last time someone had treated me like a cum dump. I'd found him on Craigslist. He must have arrived directly from work, because he was dressed in office attire, smelling strongly of soap and deodorant. He removed his pants, shirt, and underwear before straddling me, much like riding a horse, then jerked himself off manically, looking closely at my face the whole time, peering through me, as he brought himself to climax.

The result left a huge puddle on my breastbone, after which I jumped to my feet from the mattress to the bathroom and swiftly scrubbed the cum off of me with a damp washrag. Before I entered the bedroom, he was already ten paces out the door, headed back to work, I assume. I never saw him again. There have been many sexual partners I have never seen again, but the fact has never bothered me.

Todd would have been quite welcome to perform the same act on me, but he wanted my ass. I implored him to be his little bitch, the way I'd always wanted it to be. Now it was his time to strip naked before me, a conspiratorial smile on his face. He wasn't nearly as bad looking as he had implied. He was a little chubbier than before, but nothing too extreme. I leaned backwards and in one swift motion he rested my legs over his shoulder blades. We were both big men, not bears exactly, but certainly not femmy boys.

I felt him pop open the tube of lube, squeeze a bit onto two fingers and probe an inch or two into my anus. Then I felt him gently push himself into me, until his cock slid past the rim and into my anal cavity. This is what I had wanted for a very long time. And he as well. His eyes went glassy and unfocused as he began to fuck me. He looked like he was having an out-of-body experience and let out very masculine grunts with each stroke in and out. Often, those sorts of sounds are a turn off to me. They can be easily overdone, but with Todd, it seemed entirely appropriate for the occasion.

Todd was no muscle daddy. He was quite sweet and tender with me. As he fucked me, I jacked my cock with my right hand as each stroke stimulated my prostate. Showing some surprising upper body strength he pulled me upwards a little bit further, grabbing onto each leg with his hands. I was in ecstasy.

"Doggy style now, please."

I quickly got down on my hands and knees, my ass faced towards his front. This time he penetrated me much easier. I'd tried topping, years before, without much success in this position. The man I was with at the time had even gone as far as to grab my cock from behind him and try to line me up properly. I still couldn't do it. The act bent my cock in an uncomfortable fashion and I never tried it again.

I heard the familiar smack of skin against skin, muscle against muscle. It must have turned him on as much as it did me. But he was older now, and I could tell he didn't quite have the stamina of a younger man. Still, he did give it his all, and I heard him let forth an enthusiastic "yes!" as he shot several surprisingly large loads into me.

My own orgasm followed swiftly afterwards, and somehow managed to dribble down my thighs ineffectually rather than make an emphatic statement—the kind I had wanted.

Todd made an odd request of me. He wanted to see me push his cum out of my ass, perhaps to see evidence of his handiwork. I obliged, gratefully, and wished we'd had a video camera to document evidence of each load as my sphincter pushed them out one-by-one. There must have been at least four, but that's what happens when you delay sex for decades. There's a lot of pent-up sexual tension that has to go somewhere.

Periodically, we still meet to fuck at the church. I'm constantly amazed at why we haven't gotten caught well before now. It would be hard to explain and would lead immediately to his termination. As for his monetary situation, I've learned not to ask questions because all they ever do is make him defensive. I continue to offer to fully subsidize a much more comfortable room for rent with an actual bed, but he refuses to accept my offer.

And he still lives with Joey the leech. Theirs is a heavily co-dependent relationship, one I will never understand. But as my therapist tells me, no one stays in a co-dependent relationship unless they are getting something out of it, even if it's something very unhealthy. I've long told Todd to kick Joey to the curb, but he won't listen to me or anyone. Todd and I have been friends for twenty-five years and as long as Joey doesn't get in the way of that, I guess I really can't change matters for the better.