I'm sure that this won't be that popular a story here, but you might try to read it with an open mind. It includes gay male sex, so if that revolts you too much to be able to appreciate the rest of the story, then you might wish to move on to another story.
This is just a quick flash story. While there is an opening for a second chapter, I do not have any plans to write one.
*****
"You two need to get a room!"
Jeremy and George just laughed at me. "We have a room, Julie, this is our house, remember?"
It was true, of course, Jeremy and George not being married, but as long a lasting gay couple as I'd ever known. We'd been friends practically forever, since our college days, and, being gay, they were about the only guys my husband Derek trusted around me. Derek is, well, he's not just the jealous type, but the insanely jealous type, seeing every other man as a threat, seeing every other man as trying to get into my pants.
It wasn't true, of course, as I'm hardly a beauty queen. I'm hardly a college-girl thin coed type, solidly built, muscular for a woman, and if my hips and boobs are bigger than my waist, my waist is still big enough. My hair is just kind of there, laying pretty flat against my head, with no real body to it at all, and guys just don't try to pick me up, no matter what Derek thinks.
Derek didn't try to pick me up, either. We met at a college party, with plenty of beer around, and some pot-laced brownies in plentiful supply. I'd gone with Marilyn, my roommate, but she wound up coupling up with some guy, Clarke I think his name was, and you know how college parties go: men and women just sort of get together.
Except for Jeremy and George, of course; they were men and men just getting together! That always seemed fascinating to me, how that worked. I remember laughing as one of the straight guys asked how they could possibly get off that way, and George just answered, "Friction."
Of course, even though the image of two guys together was . . . interesting . . . I was as straight as they came, with no interest in trying anything with another girl. And I could have, if I'd wanted to; with my muscular build, there were a couple of girls who figured that I was the dyke-type, and made passes at me, but no, I just wasn't interested.
Thing is, if I wasn't interested in girls, not a lot of guys were interested in me. Oh, I wasn't a virgin or anything, but into my junior year in college, I'd only gotten laid three times, by three different guys. As is just so fucking typical, I lost my virginity the evening of my senior prom, to Matt Black, the nerdy guy who'd asked me to the dance because he really had no other options. He didn't have a girlfriend and I didn't have a boyfriend, and what the Hell, if I hadn't said yes, I'd have missed prom. It was my first real date since I'd been a fumbling sophomore, and I'd let my imagination run wild, thinking that Matt would somehow turn out to be a diamond in the rough. Full of fantasy-pumped-up passion, I'd given my cherry to Matt in a fumbling two-minute copulation in the back seat of his 1967 Chevy Nova SS. It was just dumb luck that I didn't get pregnant.
Freshman year at Oklahoma, I got laid again, once, when four of us girls were drinking beer at this dive college bar. At the time, in Oklahoma, girls could drink at 18, while guys had to wait until they were 21, and these four seniors came in, looked around, and spotted us sharing a pitcher of dark beer at a stand-up table. Four guys, four girls, yeah, the numbers just worked out right, and we all got paired off. This time it was another Matt, Matt Moore and me, but that was because he was slower than the other three guys, and it was like I was the last girl picked. At least this Matt knew what he was doing, and he gave me my non-self-induced orgasm.
That was also the last time I ever saw him. I'm just not pretty enough, I guess, and there are plenty of much cuter coeds at OU.
Another party, freshman year, and another desperate guy, whose name, Perry, I can remember but not his face, and I got laid again, one time, and then he was gone, too.
By my junior year, I'd figured that that was it: I'd get fucked by random one-nighters, by guys as desperate as me, and that would be my life. Then Marilyn dragged me to this party, and that was where I met Derek.
Derek was perfecting the dark, moody look, so much different from the cowboys and wannabes at OU. If you were a Sooner football player, you got any girl you wanted, always blonde and blue eyed, with perfect white teeth and golden tanned skin, even in November; there were something like four tanning parlors within walking distance of campus. If you weren't a football player - even the basketball players didn't count for that much at OU, not in the seventies - you needed to be a macho cowboy type, and you got girls, but if Derek had tried to pull off that look, he'd have been laughed right off of campus.
Derek was a smaller guy, only 5'7, and it turned out to be damned important to him that I was two inches shorter; if I'd been taller, his masculinity couldn't have handled it. As it was, I was still bigger than him, as he was skinny. As things between us progressed, I let him 'win' the tickle-fights, but I could tell, and I think that he could, too: I was stronger than he was.
At any rate, Derek and I kind of paired off at that party. I was just drunk, and stoned, enough to make the first move, trying, kind of lamely, to flirt with him. Maybe it worked because other girls just never flirted with him, and as the party was winding down, he decided that he wanted to walk me home.
That was nice, and I thought that yeah, he really did like me, so I decided that sleeping with him that first night might be a too-desperate move. I let him kiss me goodnight at the door, giving him a sort-of hint that yeah, I was attracted, but wasn't the kind of girl who slept with guys on the first date. It was enough that he thought he'd have a chance with me in the future, and he asked if he could see me again sometime, and I said yeah, and gave him my phone number.
Well, you know the scoop: time passed, we dated, eventually we fucked, eventually we moved in together, and eventually we got married. I knew one thing: Derek was immensely proud of having a girl live with him, something not that common in Norman, not in the seventies. I think it fed into his idea that yeah, that meant he was a man, having been such a stud that a girl was willing to move in with him even without a ring.
The image of masculinity meant a lot to Derek! Unfortunately, it also meant, at least for him, a possessiveness that manifested itself in jealousy, unreasonable jealousy.
It probably didn't help that I was a nurse: that meant working in a hospital, with plenty of doctors, cute doctors around. But remember, I was the big boned nurse, the one in the size 14 white nursing uniform. There were a ton of size six cuties running around the hospital, and the doctors who wanted to pair off with one of the nurses always had cuter nurses to pick from.
Deep down, I don't think Derek liked George and Jeremy. That they were queer offended his sense of masculinity, but them also not being interested in girls meant that I was 'safe' around them. We didn't have that many friends, meaning friends of both of us, so the gay boys were the ones with whom we interacted most. I liked them, and Derek went along with it, so it really wasn't that unusual for me, or us, to be at their apartment.
Jeremy worked at the same hospital I did, as a pharmacy tech, so we saw each other at work with some frequency. It was nothing for me to be at their place on my days off, and Derek didn't worry about that. There was just no way that Jeremy, the 'bottom' in his relationship, was any threat to Derek.
Thing is, when they were together, George and Jeremy tended to PDAs, public displays of affection, at least when they were in safe situations; they'd never have done it, out in public, not in Oklahoma, not even in college town Norman. And they kept them to a minimum when Derek was with me; I guess that they just knew he didn't think much of homosexuality.
But they also knew that I found it fascinating. My father was a plumber, so naturally I heard plenty about male and female pipe couplings, and knew that you couldn't thread two male ends together. But it didn't take too much imagination to realize that every male came equipped with two 'female' pipe couplings, one up top, and one further down.
"So, what, it's your place, so you're going to suck his dick in front of me?" I teased them.
"Would you be that offended if I did?" That was George, who had a huge shit-eating grin on his face.
"No, go right ahead, I'd love to watch." It stunned me that I'd gotten that out, but it was true; I would have liked to see one guy sucking another guy's dick. Yeah, I give Derek head, but it wasn't something that I enjoyed all that much; I do it because he likes it, and it was fascinating to me that someone, especially a guy, could actually enjoy sucking dick.
Jeremy had his eyes dead on me, watching my every move, every expression, as George unbuckled his boyfriend's belt.
I couldn't have looked away if I had wanted to, but I didn't want to; I wanted to see everything. Jeremy's cock wasn't anything particularly special, somewhere between six and seven inches and not particularly thick. Actually, it looked pretty much like Derek's.
George looked like he really enjoyed what he was doing, certainly more than I enjoyed sucking Derek. He was particularly sloppy, using plenty of spit, paying attention not just to the head, but licking Jeremy down the bottom of his shaft, and occasionally taking his boyfriend's balls into his mouth. I'd never tried that with Derek, he'd never asked me to, and the idea had just never occurred to me. This was fascinating, and I thought that I was learning something here. I don't know, maybe I could try that with Derek, at least some Saturday morning after he had taken a shower.
Then George did something I knew I could never do: he took Jeremy's cock into his mouth and then slowly descended, all the way to the base! Jeremy's cock completely disappeared into George's mouth, and I had never been able to get more than about four inches of Derek's into mine.
That's when I was busted! "Look, George, Julie's got her hand down her shorts!"
I hadn't even realized it, but Jeremy was right; I'd snaked my hand down the elastic waistband of my running shorts, and into my panties, and was stroking my clit. "Oh, my God," I shrieked, pulling my hand out quickly, embarrassed as shit.
"No, no, do it again, I want to watch," Jer urged me, while George was still playing with his cock, but with his eyes on me. "Please, we want to see it."
I was mortified, but still turned on, and slowly put my hand back down into my shorts. Jeremy and George shifted positions, so that George could see me better. I was on Jeremy's right now, with George mostly licking the left side of his dick, so that he could watch me as well.
"How can you do that?" I managed to get out, a bit breathlessly, as I watched George deep throat Jeremy again. I was genuinely curious, because I always gagged if I took Derek too deep.
