The Old Pals Act

BE WARNED. Stories don't always slot neatly into categories. This tale has a strong cuckold theme but would also qualify for Gay Male and, except for the lack of hypnotism, would also fit in Mind Control. If someone were to assert that this belongs in Fetish, I wouldn't dispute that fact because I seriously considered putting it there but what the hell.

*****

Once a month I had to make a 200 mile round trip connected with my work. It had become my habit on the return trip to stop and eat at the motorway services when only an hour away from home. The reason for this was that Sylvia my wife regularly worked the 2 p.m. until 10 p.m. shift at a call centre. This work routine meant that we saw comparatively little of each other during the week but we made up for at weekends. In addition, due to the dual income, we had been able to afford to get our house looking very nice and we managed a really fabulous holiday every year. The important thing was that we spent every night together because our lives revolved around bed. Sylvia was a passionate girl and always eager, my only complaint being that she had a rather conventional idea of what was proper - so much so that long before I had decided that pushing her to be more adventurous was actually counter productive.

We had been married for six glorious years. Sylvia was the first girl that I met after my return from London - (I must point out that this was not the same town as that in which I spent my childhood).

I think that I must have set my expectations too low because I had been out with some real dogs and at first sight; Sylvia seemed out of my league. So it was with great surprise that I found her responding favourably to my tentative advances. This girl has everything - but nothing to excess. She is very attractive but falls short of being beautiful, her figure is good without being blatantly so and if there is an asset that she does tend to flaunt, it is the sheer perfection of her legs. Sylvia is brunette with shoulder length wavy hair. Two years younger than me, she was nineteen when we met and we were married just over a year later.

A couple of weeks before that ceremony she asked, "Do you want me to tell you about my past life?"

"No," I replied and then added gallantly, "As far as I am concerned, your life began the moment that I met you." There were times afterwards when I did rather regret that hasty decision.

This particular return trip, instead of the usual services, I had gone to a transport café on a different route due to the rather lurid tales that I had heard about the establishment. There were a lot of lorry drivers there together with quite a smattering of single women but the most striking thing was the very attractive waitresses whose uniforms left little to the imagination. It may have been all in my mind but I felt that there was an undoubted air of decadence about the place.

I stood just inside the door for a minute or two, partly checking the place out but mainly trying to spot a vacant table. There were none that I could see but there was one with only a single male occupant who was sitting with his back to me. Walking over, I had just started to politely ask if the other chairs were free, when I realised that I knew him. "Brad?" I asked, believing that I must be mistaken.

He looked up and his face broke into a smile. "Jeff - it's been a long time."

I had last seen Brad ten years before and at that time he had been my closest friend. At the start there had been four of us - actually before that there had been three - me, Spike and Joey. I knew those two at junior school but we had not been particular friends then. However, like me, the two of them won places at a Grammar school that still operated, within travelling distance and as we were the only boys from our immediate area going to the school, it threw us together as natural friends. We were all average height but looking in the mirror quite objectively I decided that I had more going for me than either of my two pals.

Then during our last year at the Grammar school we were joined by Brad, whose parents had just moved into the area. If we were the three musketeers, Brad was D'Artagnan - and he soon made himself into the leader. Although the same age, he was two inches taller and also broader - he was also the lucky recipient of classic good looks. Somewhere in his ancestry there must have been mixed blood because throughout the year he seemed to have a permanent light tan and the tan, together with very fair hair and blue eyes, made a very striking combination. When you read of female schoolteachers seducing pupils, it becomes more understandable if you imagine Brad as the object of affection.

Out of school we went everywhere as a small gang, spending many hours exploring the countryside. At this point I must touch on a dicey subject. It is considered quite normal for adolescent boys (and possibly girls) to indulge in a curious exploration of homosexuality. Many times when deep in a wood or on the edge of a lonely field, we would sit in a line masturbating, competing to see who could shoot cum the furthest. There was no competition because Brad always won but then he had by far the best equipment. Where the three others measured out at around six inches, he was a good 50% bigger at nine inches with the extra length supported by girth. He really had a superb penis.

Although we remained a four, a natural split within the gang placed Spike and Joey together, leaving me with Brad. Now on our excursions, during our group masturbation sessions, the other two took to tossing each other off. I would rather have liked to get my hands on Brad's organ but he announced that wanking other guy's dicks was not his thing so I had to content myself with admiring it from afar.

Brads parents were the kind of people who spend their time at seminars and conferences with the result that they spent long periods of time away from home. This gave Brad the run of his home, sometimes for days at a time, with only a visiting housekeeper to put any constraint on his behaviour. It was natural that on bad weather days with nowhere to go, the four of us always congregated at Brad's place.

By now we were all in the sixth form and all celebrated our eighteenth birthdays within the space of a month. That turned out to be a dividing line because Spike and Joey, having met two sisters at a party started to absent themselves from our group to explore the attractions of the opposite sex. This left Brad and I alone and we carried on as normal for a while. Then one day I turned up at his house to find that he had a surprise for me. "I've found some videos in my Dad's stuff, do you want to watch?" I think that by today's standards it was pretty soft porn but there was plenty of nudity and even if the sex was simulated, it was real enough for us. We both got our pricks out to stroke as we watched but after a while, I found myself more interested in looking at his penis than the athletics on the screen. I loved the sheen on the tight skin and was fascinated at how the blue veins actually pulsed as I watched. Eventually, noticing my preoccupation, Brad said, "You can hold it if you want."

He made no effort to reciprocate, instead leaning back with hands behind his head, happy to let me do whatever I wanted. I was in seventh heaven. That first thrill of holding his living throbbing flesh in my fingers is indescribable. The TV, the whole world, nothing existed apart from the glorious thing in my hand. I was not aware that Brad eyes were also no longer on the screen and instead were fixed on me watching my fingers at work. Neither was I aware that I had stated compulsively licking my lips as I gazed at the globule of pre-cum oozing out of his slit. "I won't think any less of you if you want to put in your mouth," he said softly.

Until he spoke, the desire had not formulated in my mind but instantly I knew that is what I wanted to do. I knew about gays and what they did and I knew that this was regarded by many as perverted behaviour. I had been taught to think so too but in a strange way this was different. The idea of having either Spike or Joey put their dick in my mouth was gross and still filled me with revulsion but that rule just didn't seem to apply. Brad's penis was not just a prick, it was an entity which somehow transcended barriers of gender. An organ like that demanded to be worshipped by members of both sexes.

All the time that I was sucking, my body trembled uncontrollably. That was not for very long because due to the novelty of the situation, Brad had very little self control - he lasted far longer on the many future occasions. His cum flooding into my mouth took me by surprise but that didn't matter because, right from the first moment, I hadn't even considered not seeing it through to the end. In the midst of the emotion engendered by having that delicious creamy nectar on my tongue, I shot my own load to form a long sticky streak on the carpet. "We won't tell the other guys about this," Brad warned when I was back sitting rather dazedly by his side. "We'll keep it to ourselves - it can be our thing."

I lived for it after that, often hanging back awkwardly until after the other two had left so that I could collect my ration of hot spunk. Spike and Joey were full of triumphant tales of getting inside girls pants so Brad suggested that we should grab a slice of that kind of action. We had very little difficulty picking up succession of girls but I have to admit this was due almost exclusively to Brad's charm. After leaving the first pair of girls that we dated, Brad asked if I had got my end away and I had to admit that I had achieved only one brief squeeze at a breast from outside her clothes. When I returned the query he said, "Easy peasy. I like it - you know I think that I am going to devote my life to fucking women."

As girl followed girl I began to think that I was singularly unlucky due to the high proportion of pick-ups who told me, "I would do it love only it's the wrong time of the month." Other excuses were, "I promised my mother last week that I wouldn't let boys do it to me any more," and "My sister's just dropped pregnant and my mum says she'll kill me if the same thing happens to me." At the end of six months the best that I got was the occasional sticky finger. I did not tell Brad about my failure, preferring to pretend by using macho phrases such as 'she loved it' and 'said that I was the best ever', without ever being too specific. I reckoned that just by law of averages, Brad had to draw a blank sometimes, so from his uniform reports of success, I concluded that he was lying as well as me.

I was not too bothered by my string of failures because I got so much pleasure from doing 'our thing' with Brad. Interspersed with chasing talent, we continued to have private sessions whenever possible.

Sometimes, after seeing our respective girls home, I went back to his place for the odd half hour and I can confirm that at least two of his claimed shags were genuine because there was the undoubted taste of cunt on his cock.

We sat our A-levels and both did rather well. The plan was to go on to college together but a few months after my nineteenth birthday, on a whim I left home to take up an apprenticeship in London.

It was a year before I first paid a visit back home to be told that Brad had gone to Australia with his parents.

There was a lot to catch up on. Brad guessed that I was married and I told him for how long, providing a fulsome description of my wife. My old friend revealed that he had tried marriage but it had only lasted for three years. "She caught me in bed with our male lodger," he explained with a laugh, going on to tell me that he was now 100% gay. "It was you who planted the seeds of destruction," he reminded.

The words rather shocked me because it was a long time since I had thought about my teenage behaviour. When I did remember it was with a feeling of shame and I could not understand how I could possibly have done anything like that. During the years since I had last seen him, although I cast an appreciative glance at almost every female that passed, I had never once looked at a passing male in even a remotely sexual way. In fact passing members of my own sex rarely registered on my consciousness. "In the past ten years," he was saying, "I have been with no more than a dozen women all told but I must have had a hundred times that number of male partners. The last female that I bedded was over three years ago and that was an accident. She found that I was having a thing with her husband and came round to my flat in a very irate mood. I had to give her one to calm her down and for a few weeks after that I was screwing her during the afternoon and her hubby in the evening - or was it vice versa."

His words sparked off a twinge of the old jealous rivalry because before meeting Sylvia, I had managed sex with no more than six different women. "I thought you had gone to Australia?" I asked, preferring to quickly change the subject.

"I was there a couple of years but then came back on my own. I'm a freelance trucker now and I am doing rather well at it," Brad told me with a touch of pride. "I'm in this area to pick up a brand new rig that's costing me the earth. Trouble is that it won't be ready for another two weeks. I should have grabbed the chance of a decent holiday but to tell the truth, I've got every last penny tied up in the new vehicle. I hand in my present truck tomorrow and then I will just have to find some digs and kick my heels until the new one is ready."

"I'm sure that we can put you up," I heard myself say without having known that I was going to make the offer. Immediately I hoped that he would refuse.

"That is really good of you Jeff - you will hardly know that I am there," he said, leaving me on the hook. "Are you sure that your wife won't mind?"

This gave me a possible escape but I could not see how to use it. "She'll be fine," I assured him, admitting defeat as I did so. Brad followed me home while I kept track of him through the rear view mirror. I was seriously concerned that Sylvia might be less pleased at being lumbered with an unexpected guest but I need not have worried. My wife had only got home from work minutes before we arrived. "I bumped into an old school friend - we are going to put him up for a few days," I explained half apologetically as I led him into the house.

Sylvia's face lit up with genuine pleasure. "I have wanted to meet one of Jeff's old friends - he has told me so much about you," she said but when my old pal stepped forward saying "I'm Brad," a look of puzzlement crossed her face. "Jeff has talked about Joe and is it Spike but I can't remember him mentioning you."

Brad grinned disarmingly. "We used to go picking up girls together and I can understand why he wanted to play that down with you."

Sylvia laughed happily. "And I bet you were a couple of rogues. Well now you can reveal all the dirty secrets from his past."

When we were in bed she came back to the subject and asked the real reason that I had neglected to speak about Brad. This was dangerous ground so, rather lamely, I stuck to his cover story and pointed out that as she had told me nothing of her romantic past, I had steered clear of any reference to mine. I had expected that with a stranger in the house, Sylvia would be inhibited in our love-making but instead she was even more passionate than usual. Next morning I had to get up early to go to work. I always left her in bed, quite often still asleep. She was awake. "Your friend is a very good looking man," she said as I was getting dressed.

"Don't get any ideas," I joked. "He is completely gay. He told me that he has not been with a woman for over three years and I gather that he is extremely promiscuous."

"What a dreadful waste," she said with real meaning and then after a moments thought asked, "Was he gay when you knew him?"

"No - not at all," I said quickly. "He must have switched after we lost touch. When we went round together it was all girls and I have to admit that he was far more successful than me."

"I can understand why," she said. I didn't like the remark but decided not to make an issue of it. I found Brad waiting in the kitchen. We had arranged that after breakfast, I would run him into town so that he would not be under my wife's feet during the morning. That evening, he met me after I finished work and we ate in a restaurant then enjoyed a couple of beers in a nearby pub. Back at the house, we topped up with more alcohol and chatted until Sylvia arrived home and had the small supper that I had prepared for her.

After that the three of us sat and talked until long after out usual bed time. I noticed that my wife was very forthright even seductive in her responses to Brad. I had heard that women were far more relaxed in the company of gay men - something to do with the fact that they did not pose a threat. This had seemed a dubious proposition to me but this seemed to be an example of the syndrome in action.

The following day followed the same initial pattern but instead of eating out I assured Brad that I was now a pretty competent cook and he was happy for me to prepare a meal at home. Afterwards we were sitting with a drink each when he said casually, "I've got a video in my bag - straight from Amsterdam." I began to shake my head doubtfully but he laughed and said," Don't worry - it's far more your kind of thing than mine."

Partly not wanting to appear hen pecked but mainly natural curiosity, I told him to put it on. For the first half hour my eyes were riveted on the graphic acts being enacted on screen but then suddenly I was shocked to see that he had got his cock out. My first reaction was to tell him that we were now far too old to indulge in public masturbation but as I started to speak the words died in my throat. The memories came flooding back. It was the same penis that I had once known so well, more battle scarred but possibly even larger now than it had been in his youth. I was aware that my heart was beating almost out of control, I seemed to have a tight band round my head and I was sweating profusely. With an effort of will, I dragged my eyes back to the screen but this self control lasted for less than a minute. Brad was lightly running his fingers lightly up and down the distended organ as if playing the piccolo. I could tell that he was fully aware of my discomfiture. "It's all yours if you want it," he said softly.

The words were insidious. It seemed inconceivable that after so long his magnificent penis could still exert such a powerful effect on me. Fighting every inch, I watched my hand stretch to touch it and at first contact all control went - I threw myself forward and took it in my mouth. The years fell away - it was as if the past decade had never been. The action and the dearly remembered taste were so freshly familiar that it was almost inconceivable to believe it had been so long since I had last sucked his cock.

My tongue tingled and I felt as if the blood was coursing through my body with newly discovered vigour. I had come home. Brad's hand was resting lightly on my head all the time that I devotedly used my mouth to minister him to the inevitable conclusion, he gently stroked my hair softly murmuring, "There, there."

When the life giving semen flooded into my mouth, I was overwhelmed by sheer joy but at the same time my body was gripped by a series of convulsive tremors as is that of the addict reacting to a first fix following a long period of being clean. But as the euphoria died away I was gripped by a far different reaction. I felt guilt, black despairing guilt - why had I let myself do this vile thing. Brad was watching me with a quizzically. "What's the matter lover, don't you like it any more. Doing 'our thing' always made you so happy before."