The Moment of Choice

I had been fantasising about dick for a long time. On and off, I had spent most of my adult life masturbating to thoughts of cock and of getting fucked. Very rare was the orgasm achieved from aroused thoughts of women, though I was always looking at them with lust. But if you had asked me, I would have said I was straight; *maybe* bi if push came to shove. I do like women, I can cum from having sex with them, I get turned on thinking of their bouncing tits, their tight, perfect asses, even enjoy watching straight porn... But sooner or later, once I had my dick in my hand, cock would pop into my mind, and I couldn't help riding it to orgasm, no matter how ashamed I was.

Daisy knew all about my fantasies. After four years together, how could she not. I mean, okay, I've head the tales about women married to gay men for decades who never even suspected, but honestly I'm a bit sceptical. There are signs, obvious signs. Like when I want you to push your finger into my ass, or when I want to go shopping for strap-ons, or when my internet history is littered with gay gang-bangs and sissy cock-suckers. So of course she knew. I imagine she'd had her suspicions all along, but she first really found out definitively when I confessed a semi-infidelity early on in our relationship.

I had been out at a beach bar with a friend drinking, and we'd gotten separated when he got mired in a lengthy pool tournament. I didn't feel like playing, so I made my way to the bar, sat on a high-top stool, and ordered a beer. I was already several drinks deep at this point, and I was feeling a little free. So when an older man sidled up next to me, I made easy conversation with him. It was his forty-fifth birthday, and he was drinking alone. At first it was just chit-chat, and I just figured he was a regular guy, but then he mentioned how he and his boyfriend had split a few weeks previously, and I realised *this guy was gay*. My mind buzzed. Was he hitting on me? It was a straight bar, but it was crowded with people, the lights weren't that bright, and I was fairly drunk. I was unconcerned.

I'd been swimming earlier that day and I was still wearing a pair of loose-fitting swim trunks. My new friend asks -blatantly asks- if he can touch 'it'... As a birthday gift. He must have realised something was up. But I played it cool. I told him he could have a pity feel if he wanted. He knew about my girlfriend of (at that time) a year and a half - so no hanky-panky, no funny stuff, he just wanted to touch it. Somehow (maybe nerves, maybe alcohol-soaked hormones) I managed to be more-or-less soft when I slipped my waist-band down and popped my manhood out, balls and all, right there under the bar. He caressed it, gave it a little squeeze, and popped it back into my shorts and said 'Thanks, hon.'

Now we were ordering more drinks; he softly telling me how much he wants to suck my cock. Now I was noticing his hand resting on the back of my stool, casually. Now I've discovered that he's slipped his hand into the waistband of my swim-trunks and he's migrated his finger to the crack of my ass. And I'm pushing back against that finger as it's exploring my asshole. Still at the bar. Surrounded by strangers. No one's noticed (or at least no one's said anything), and he, discovering what I'm really about, starts telling me how good he'd fuck me - he can do it in the alley right now if I want! I'm slowly pushing back against a finger that's, let's face it, essentially fucking my (fairly) virgin asshole on a bar-stool in the midst of a crowded beach bar, and I somehow manage to extricate myself from the situation, regardless of how deeply I want his cock buried in me.

Having narrowly escaped infidelity, I stumble home drunk and fall into bed, and the next morning I have almost no recollection of the night. It comes back in dribs and drabs throughout the day, the way such nights have a way of doing. And it's about lunch time, when I'm sitting in the cubicle in the office toilet, that the memory of that invasive finger comes floating back to me, filling me with a shame and arousal that are so powerful, it takes little more than a stroke or two before I'm erupting cum like a geyser. And then I'm left with a memory - intensely hot, and equally shameful - I can't think about it for the next several days without pulling my cock out and cumming all over myself within moments - in the car, in the toilet, at the desk.

Weeks would go by before I had the courage to tell her about the incident, but she shrugged it off - It was 'not that big of a deal', and 'I'd really had her worried' when I'd told her I had something to confess... We'd also been drinking on that night, and when she reacted so cooly, I'd gotten a little more courage, and spilled the rest of the story to her - my fantasies, my masturbation, my curiosity about toys... We played with it a little - we'd start messing around and she would whisper something in my ear about 'wouldn't you rather have a big, fat cock to play with?' We went out late one night and spontaneously bought a strap-on, which she dutifully used on me a few times before it went into a bedside drawer, but after that, apart from occasional dirty talk our sex went back to vanilla normal for a long time. Anyone would think we were a 'normal' couple. But I still had the fantasies, and they were always getting slowly stronger.

The guilt began to build up as the thoughts of cock clouded my mind almost every time we had sex. Every time I was alone I would surf, almost reflexively, to one of a handful of gay or sissy porn sites, and I let my fantasy world flourish despite feelings of shame. We still had sex a couple maybe three times a week, and it was always (outwardly) totally straight sex. We never really talked about my fantasies anymore, hadn't done for a year or two, and I figured that, from her perspective, we had a pretty standard sex-life. But Daisy's not an idiot.

And I was no wizard with the internet histories - she never let on, but she was aware of my growing addiction, and she let it slide without saying anything. I reckon she was just wondering how far it would go on its own, or maybe that she got a little vicarious thrill out of knowing I was secretly using the sex toys on myself when she was out; knowing I was surfing gay porn and chat sites while she slept or worked. Who knows what she thought - I've never asked her and she's never volunteered it up. But whatever her motivations, as she spied on me slipping deeper and deeper into addiction, a plan began to take shape in her mind. And while I alternated between wallowing in shame and revelling in daydreams about being stuffed full of cock, all unknowing, the plan developed and matured.

She started talking dirty again during sex - asking me if I wouldn't rather be sucking on a fat cock, or maybe I needed to have my ass filled? It was so unbelievably hot! Just like in the old days - my cock would twitch and jump and, as she would slide her finger down the crack of my ass, teasing me with it, she'd place my hand onto my cock and gesture for me to start masturbating. And if I wanted to have sex, she'd demure - she wanted to watch me get my jerky-treats. And besides, she knew what I really wanted, and it wasn't pussy. I'd lap it up and cum thunderously and, often, she would cum just as hard from watching me. Afterwards, I'd tell her how excited it had gotten me, but that I really just wanted her, and she would nod: she knew, and she loved me.

More and more we would masturbate together, and sex became a less frequent affair. All the while, she never said a word about her plan. Eventually, something pushed her to put that plan into motion. Maybe she got tired of having a half-boyfriend, or maybe she's just a devilish type who loves to corrupt (there's evidence that both are true), but she evidently made some calls, arranged some appointments, and managed to keep it all a secret from me until the night she sprang it all on me and changed our lives forever.

The night in question was not remarkable for any reason. It was a work night - it wasn't anyone's birthday, nor was it a holiday - it was just an ordinary Wednesday night. We were chilling out, watching some shows together, and she gave no indication whatsoever that anything was up until about half-nine, when she gathered up the dishes and told me to go in the bedroom and get undressed - she'd got a surprise in store for me. My cock sprang to attention - I could only imagine it was some more exciting version of jerky-treats. I went to the bedroom, practically skipping, and stripped down in nothing flat. And then I waited. And waited. And waited. Did I hear talking? Just as I was about to go and investigate, she appeared in the doorway, wearing nothing but heels and a skimpy thong, with a push-up bra that made her look like a girl in a comic book.

"Did you miss me," She asked. I nodded, staring at her tits. "Good boy," she gushed, "I've got a surprise for you tonight, baby! Are you excited?" Again, I could do little more than nod and stare at her jiggling flesh. "Do my tits turn you on?" She started walking across the room to the edge of the bed where I sat, transfixed.

"Yes." I managed. She smiled as she reached the edge of the bed, reached down, and took my hands, guiding them to her porcelain globes and pressing them firmly against them.

"Good." She paused and, when I said nothing, she, still holding me by the wrists, pressed my hands into slow motion, massaging her tits with my hands. "Because there's a been a lot of talk about dick lately, and I want to know if I still turn you on. Do I?" She paused for a moment. "Turn you on?" Another pause. "It's a question."

"Yes! No-yes baby, of course you do!" I began to rub her tits more vigorously.

"Really?"

"Yes, babe." I slid my right hand town to her behind, but she gripped it again and placed it back on her tit.

"Do you like them?" She let her head fall back on her shoulders as I massaged her breasts.

"Yes," I said, though my erection was beginning to wilt. She had her eyes closed as she guided my right hand down her stomach to her crotch - puffy with moisture glistening through the taught fabric of the tiny garment.

"Do you like it," she asked, breath heavy, as I stroked her pussy through her underwear.

"Umm hmm," I murmured.

"Good." She stood up straight and climbed onto the bed straddling me, rubbing her crotch against my semi-hard erection as her fingers went to my nipples. This had the immediate effect of renewing my arousal and flipping my mind back into fantasy-land - I let a sigh escape my lips. "Because we're going to have a little test. To find out." She un-straddled me and sat up next to me on the bed. "Come on in," she called out loudly.

"Babe?"

"Shhhshhshh," She interrupted my unasked question as another person entered our bedroom. He was tall - maybe a little over six feet, and had tanned skin stretched over a body that was, if not muscly, very well conditioned, and he was wearing a very brief pair of boxer-briefs concealing a package that bulged impressively, and nothing else.

"Right... Jimmy, this is Ben. Ben, this is Jimmy. Jimmy, sit up and say hi."

"Hi," I managed blankly, taken aback by the situation, I sat up on the edge of the bed.

"Now Jimmy will have all sorts of questions, but we'll answer all of them in a jiffy. Ben, if you would." She gestured. The god, Ben, took a few more steps into the room, and stood about a foot away from me, his massive tool right in my face.

"So, babe," Daisy said softly, grasping my face gently by the chin and turning it away from the package of meat to look at her. "Here's the situation. Ben is a friend of mine. And as you can see, he is both athletic, and very well endowed." I swallowed and nodded, my eyes flicking back toward that cock - I could just make out the outline of the head beneath the stretchy fabric of his underwear. She gently got my attention once more. "Now baby," she went on, "Ben is a fantastic lover, and an absolutely masculine man who likes to use people for his own pleasure. I've told him all about your fantasies and he thinks he could get a lot of good use out of you, and you'd certainly get a lot of pleasure from that, I think we can safely say. And you can have him, right now." She gently turned me by the chin to look back at the bulging cock curled, like a sleeping monster, in the larger man's underwear.

"Or, you can have me. That's the choice. You can turn away from Ben's beautiful cock and make love to me, and he will walk out the door without another word, or you can suck and fuck his massive cock until he's worn you out and pumped you full of cum, but we will never have sex again." I looked at her. "That's the choice, babe. All of your fantasies of cock, or sex with me for the rest of our lives." She stared at me as I nervously licked my lips, uncertain of what should happen next. "I want you, baby," she went on, "to fuck me hard, right now. But I'm betting you're thinking about that cock of Ben's, imagining what it will look like, what it'll feel like when it's buried in you."

"I-" I stumbled.

"I still love you, babe. I always will. I'm not talking about breaking up or anything, just not having sex anymore. You would be Ben's plaything - maybe he has friends?" Ben nodded. I swallowed, my throat dry. "I would have my own things on the side, I'm sure - we'd have to work out all the details, but the basics are pretty clear. I wanted to see if you could resist a thick, beautiful cock when it was right in front of your face." She looked at the two of us. "So I tell you what... I'm going to go in the guest room and leave the two of you alone, and you're going to make up your mind, and we will have done with all the guessing and the games for good." And she stood up and walked out, patting Ben's massive package as she went.

I sat for a moment, looking after her at the door, before I turned and looked at the warm pouch in front of my eyes. I swallowed again...

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Thanks for reading! This is the end of this story - if you like it, and would like me to tell another, leave a comment telling me which choice I should make. If I get any response, I will faithfully write another story telling what happened next, based on the most popular choice. Should I choose Daisy for an incredibly hot rediscovery of the delights of heterosexuality? Should I give in to my desires for Ben's throbbing cock? Or is there some other choice to be had?