Older, Sadder, Wiser Pt. 03

"And do you feel like that?"

A shake of the head.

"How often do you see them?"

"Once a week at weekends, or to fit in with my shifts."

"OK" I said heavily, "Here goes. Look - I'm no authority on this but I should say that the vital thing is that you should love them - and show that you love them, not by showering them with presents and definitely not by trying to make them take your side in a dispute with their mother. Take an interest in everything they do and help them where you can. Don't tell them about Jeff, well anyway not just yet, and be reliable - never cancel any of your pre-arranged visits. The world's changing. There must be thousands upon thousands of men who get married and have children who find that it's not all it's cracked up to be - and who find, moreover, that heterosexual satisfaction doesn't compare, say, with wanking or male-on-male sex. When they grow up they'll be more ready to understand this than we were when we were young."

"So you don't think I should tell them about Jeff, leastways not yet?

"No."

"If they're hoping my wife and I will get back together, should I tell them it's unlikely, impossible even?"

"Say nothing."

"And you don't think, so long as I love and support them, my sexuality will adversely affect them? I'd hate to think that I should in any way be responsible for making my son queer."

"It's unlikely, I should think. Homosexuality can run in families but not enough is known for anyone to try to prevent it. My own son seems completely "normal", if you see what I mean."

Lionel nodded and passed me a cup of tea. He poured some water from a jug standing on the floor into a small bowl and washed his hands with some soap before drying them. "That's better," he said as he drank his tea. "I'm glad I spoke to you. I'll remember your advice."

I didn't think it was necessarily very good advice but it had come from my heart and I didn't know the circumstances of his separation to be able to compare it with mine.

"You said sex was not always what it's cracked up to be?" he said after a pause in our conversation. I nodded. "That sex with women often doesn't compare with wanking or male-on-male sex?" I nodded again. "Tell me," he said suddenly, "Do you wank?"

"Of course," I said, surprised by the question but not wanting to avoid a direct answer. "It's a natural thing to do if you're on your own. And a wank shared is much better than a solo effort."

He looked at me, relief written all over his face. "I do so agree with you," he said simply, and looking at him I saw behind him, because he was still standing, the mattress half on the floor at the end of shed.

"Ah - now I understand what that mattress is for," I said, meaningfully. He looked round at it and then, half-ashamed and half glad that I had noticed, he said "Yes, that's for wanking on."

He looked at me closely. We were both conscious that the rain had increased in volume and was beating onto the shed roof and streaming in rivulets down the window.

"So even now that you're with Jeff you still like an occasional wank?"

"Sure…. Why not? …. I like to be in charge of myself sometimes…." An electrical current had invaded the atmosphere in the shed, translating itself to my groin, where I felt the first stirrings of excitement. To look at Lionel was nothing special and he was Jeff's partner now. And yet I was interested. He must have felt the electricity too because he put his hand to his crotch and said "Do you mind if I sit down?"

"How did you discover that you liked sex with men?" I asked.

"Long story," he said. "I've always played with myself and wondered how others did it. When I found out, I discovered that I enjoyed that too."

"Me too," I said.

His hand was now covering a bulge in his boiler-suit and looking down at it from my chair I could see he was gently rubbing it, while looking up at me in a questioning sort of way.

I was the first to speak. "Go ahead," I said, "I'll just sit here and watch, if you like."

He did like - and I was amazed when he undid his buttons and pulled out his dick. He was only a slight man, not very tall, with straggly dark hair going bald and no obvious sex appeal. Yet his dick was completely disproportionate to his build, being thick, almost flabby and much longer than I would have expected. Mine stiffened in sympathy.

"Ah," he said, "That's better" - and he started kneading it, hand over hand until it reared up, looking twice the size in the dimly-lit shed. I noticed one rather curious thing about it : the knob, large and fleshy, didn't finish straight in line with his shaft but was slightly bent downwards at the end. It made no difference to the way his foreskin slipped up and down over it but it looked odd. "Here goes," he said, and he fished in his pocket and brought out the handkerchief he had dried his hands on. "I always come prepared - just in case," he said as he laid it across his midriff. "I think Jeff would understand. Probably does it himself sometimes. Probably we all do. He's very fond of you, by the way."

"Yes, I know," I said truthfully. "And I'm very fond of him. But I know he's happy with you. He needs someone to love. Treat him well."

"I will," said Lionel, but it came out more as a grunt for by now his hand was flying up and down and he was clearly well into his wank. He stopped momentarily to say "Don't you feel like joining me" and though I was holding my dick tightly, deep in my trouser pocket to contain my excitement, I shook my head, feeling that a casual relationship with Jeff's boyfriend could lead to hurtful complications. He now reapplied himself with such vigour that I was astonished when his hand suddenly stopped flying on the downward stroke. Nothing seemed to happen for a moment and then there was a rush of sperm as it leapt into the air and fell onto the handkerchief he had placed to catch it. Then several more quick strokes and another held on the down-stroke and another gush of sperm.

"Wow," I said, as his spasms came to an end with mere trickles down his shaft, "That was a good'un."

"Yes, I think I shoot better when I'm with somebody else. Turns me on, like."

I was turned on too and could feel pre-cum from my dick dampening my pocket lining; but I was determined to take no further part in the action. "Rain's easing off a bit," I said, "I'd better be going. Give Jeff my love and tell him I behaved myself…"

He looked up at me, still wiping his dick with a dry corner of his hankie, then stuffing it back into his boiler-suit. "Yeah," he said, getting to his feet. "We understand each other better now; and I'm really grateful for your advice. I guess you won't hold this against me?"

"Not at all," I said. "I greatly enjoyed the show. You have one helluva jump …"

He nodded and put out his hand to shake mine. It was slightly sticky but I didn't mind. I wiped my hand on a dock leaf as I left the allotment and he saw me do it and laughed.

Back home I found my son out but my daughter had prepared lunch for me. I gave her a kiss, opened a bottle of wine and gave her half a glass while I drank two or three. I watched a football match on tele during the afternoon and fell asleep in my chair, only to have one of those semi-waking dreams in which I was back in the shed again, only this time it was with Fred. He was wanking me and I was just about to cum when the oddity of the situation woke me up and I realized that I was near to having a wet dream. Fortunately my daughter was in the kitchen so she didn't see me stagger to the bathroom where I was able to wash the pre-cum off my dick with a flannel. When I got back to my chair the match had ended and I fell to reflecting on my situation. It was no use my blaming anyone for my predicament - neither myself, my wife, my parents, her parents or anybody else. I regretted that she had never been passionate in bed with me and wondered if we would have got on together better if she had. Unlike Chris's wife she had never denied me sex, but she hadn't encouraged it either, lying there while I made love to her, cumming far too quickly for her satisfaction. Maybe this was just the way we were made - and I wondered how many couples were well matched sexually. And then I remembered how well matched both Fred and I were and how happy Jeff and I had been together. Most men, I reckoned, if they really delved into their sub-conscious, were interested in other men's dicks and their performance. I couldn't regret being bi- sexual for I believed that most men, unless they were psychologically repressed or inhibited their interest in other men, were too. I had no sense of shame for what I had done. With one exception I had hurt no- one, even though I myself had been terribly hurt by my wife's leaving me out of the blue for a much older man; and I had maintained my loving relationship with my children. What I had said to Lionel in the shed had welled out of me.

I thought back over my past encounters with other men and realized that with some it was just for the sex. Maynard had had such a massive dick and balls ; Des such superb technique ; Chris, too, was sexually very attractive . But whereas the most sheerly exciting may have been Thierry and Vic , and the most exotic - Lomi , those of whom I had been fondest were Jeff and Fred . And probably, though it was just sex, the one who had most influenced me was Steve . My thoughts turned to him and I wondered where he was now and what he was doing.

I fell asleep again, and this time slept soundly.

1 See Maynard's Secret, chapter in "The Adventures of Urlen"
2 See Camping in France, chapter 8 in "The Adventures of Urlen"
3 See Chris, chapter 14 in "The Adventures of Urlen"
4 See Thierry, chapter 4 in "The Adventures of Urlen"
5 See Vic, chapter 7 in "The Adventures of Urlen"
6 See International Relations, chapter 10 in "The Adventures of Urlen"
7 See Sadder, Older, Wiser, chapter 13 in "The Adventures of Urlen"
8 See How I Got More Than a Haircut, chapter 11 in "The Adventures of Urlen"
9 See First Fumblings, which is chapter 1 of "The Adventures of Urlen"