The Retreat

My work days, as with many peoples, merged one with another, each one so mundane and routine that they became indistinguishable from each other, that is, until that fateful day when anything that could go wrong did. I prided myself on making the accounts balance, however creatively I had to do it, but that day no matter how hard I tried the figures just didn't add up and however manipulative I became the problem just got worse. By the end of the day my head spun and, unusually for me, I craved a drink.

Normally I'm not a mid-week drinker and definitely not one to drink alone, so when my wife suggested I take Bob to the local pub with me it seemed like the best idea I'd heard all day, after all misery needs company. On the previous occasions that Bob and I had drowned our sorrows together the day always ended better than it had begun and everything seemed fine again, at least, until the next morning when we had to deal with our excesses.

Bob had built, what he called, his 'Retreat' at the end of his garden as a place where he could escape from the world and relax leaving his cares and worries behind, or at least that is what he had laughingly said, but I was to discover that his retreat was more one of a parallel existence than an escape from his real one.

After wandering the length of his garden, negotiating en-route large patches of overgrown nettles and shrubbery I began to wonder if he was in as all the curtains were drawn which, from previous visits, was unusual. Concluding that if he was 'at home' then he was obviously busy with something I turned to leave but my curiosity got the better of me so I peeked in through a gap in the curtains. I was amazed to see that Bob was sitting in his usual large wicker chair but this time his jeans were down around his ankles and he was slowly stroking his erect cock. I stepped back a pace, feeling like a voyeur having caught Bob 'pleasuring himself', but I was both intrigued at what he could be watching that would give him a 'boner' like that, and drawn to the sight of Bob's hand moving up and down his hard erection.

By adjusting my position I could see about half of the screen of his laptop and saw what was obviously gay porn playing there. I don't know what surprised me the most, that Bob was wanking in his retreat or that he was doing it to gay porn. I leant forward again, ignoring the screen and watched as Bob stroked, my own hand going inadvertently to the growing bulge in my jeans. I was getting hard, quickly. I couldn't take my eyes of Bob and the thought of 'I wish it was me doing that for him', crept unbidden into my mind.

A loud shout, Bob's wife, interrupted my thoughts and I turned quickly, my hand covering my embarrassment.

"Is he not there?" she enquired as I stepped away from the window.

"No, err . . . I don't think so," I replied, as my face began to turn a deep crimson.

"Funny," she said, "I was sure that he was there. He must have gone for a walk. I'll tell him you called", she added as she turned and re-entered the house.

It was as she disappeared that Bob emerged from his retreat looking anything but composed.

"I didn't hear you," he stammered, "have you been here long?"

Now it was my turn to stammer, "Only a few seconds," I lied, "I was just about to call out when Audrey shouted."

"Good," he said looking extremely relieved, as was I having extricated myself, albeit by lying, from an embarrassing situation.

At the pub later we were both quieter than usual Bob enquiring on several occasions about the length of time that I was outside his retreat. I kept up the pretence that it was only for a few seconds but I could tell that he didn't believe me. It was when he started to justify his actions that I was sure that he hadn't.

"I sometimes have to, you know, relieve myself, just occasionally."

I said nothing, taking a sip of my beer to disguise my discomfort.

"We don't have sex very often now, me and Audrey," he continued. Luckily we were in a secluded part of the pub as Bob unburdened himself and out of earshot of the other customers.

I took another sip of beer wishing that I was anywhere else but here, listening to him.

"Did you see what I was watching?" he asked at last. I was wondering when he would ask me that and I still didn't know what to say to him, so I took yet another sip of beer.

"You did, didn't you?" he said, for the first time looking intently at me, probably to see my reaction.

"Yes, I saw," I said at last, thinking that it was probably best to get everything into the open. We both sat silently drinking our beer, neither of us knowing what to say next. I broke the silence.

"I don't mind," I said, "I suppose most men are curious."

Bob paused as if choosing his words carefully, "I'm not just curious", he replied.

"Oh!" was all I could say for a while then, "What do you mean," although I wasn't sure I wanted to hear.

"I've sucked a cock," he announced in a low voice leaning closer towards me.

I looked around nervously making sure that no one was close enough to overhear his admission. Although we had been friends for many years I wasn't sure this was the kind of secret he should confide in me.

"Who's?" I whispered, curiosity was getting a hold of me by now. Although a part of me didn't want an answer, the other part was intrigued.

"Some one at work," he said, but didn't expand on that.

I began to wonder as I knew all his workmates, whose cock he had sucked. Then a little voice in my head whispered, 'I wish it had been mine'. I shuffled in my seat, the conflict in my mind making me more uncomfortable than ever. Bob may not now be curious, but I was. Not about whom his partner had been, but what it would be like to experience another man's cock in my mouth.

"I know that this must be embarrassing for you, I'm sorry," I heard him say.

"No, its ok," I said, but it wasn't. I could feel the feelings I'd repressed from my early teenage years resurfacing. I was beginning to hate this conversation, not because of what Bob was telling me but because of my own cravings. Thoughts flooded my mind, thoughts of Bob and me together, naked, in bed. I pushed them to the back of my mind and rose to go.

"You're disgusted by me, aren't you," Bob said, more of a statement than a question.

"No, of course not," I replied, as gently as I could, "We all have feelings we'd rather not have."

"You mean you have fantasised about being with another man?" he asked incredulously.

"I didn't say that," I answered quickly, but not too convincingly.

"But that's what you meant, isn't it?" he said it almost like an accusation.

It should have been my turn to be defensive, to make excuses and go, but I sat looking into the bottom of my pint glass.

"Yes," I whispered. As the relief poured from Bob's body the tension rose in mine. At last I'd said it, but what now.

"Thank you," he said as his hand crept over the table to lie gently onto mine.

I didn't . . . couldn't, respond. Although we had known each other for as long as I could remember, only loosing contact for a while when we attended different universities, I never suspected that Bob could have had a gay thought in his mind, yet here he was pouring out his feelings in a relatively public place. My own thoughts drifted back to our childhood and teenage years and to the 'rough and tumble' games we enjoyed together. Rolling about on the recently cut grass of a large meadow above the estate where we had grown up was, for me, an abiding memory but was it also the beginnings of his gay tendencies? I think it must have been for me. Erections came and subsided as we played although I rarely, if ever, did anything about them, I don't think either of us did. It was much later when I was thrown into the melting pot of university life that my yearnings manifested themselves to me. Watching other nineteen year olds boys wondering the corridors in various states of undress, sometimes almost nude; to answer phone calls or make coffee I thought had been the beginning for my own predilection for my own gender but was it those idyllic days in the short grass that was the real start for both of us? My thoughts were interrupted by Bob's invitation.

"Would you like to come back to the retreat and watch the DVD with me?" he asked.

Even though I'd avoided the very type of explicit material Bob was suggesting, I nodded. I knew this was one step too far, but somehow I couldn't refuse, it was as if the invitation was what I had waited for what seemed like a lifetime for.

We stood and left the bar together and walked silently towards Bob's retreat. We both knew what would happen and that it shouldn't, after all we were both married men, but we couldn't stop ourselves.

As we entered his wooden building Bob turned and kissed me. Gently, tentatively at first as if it was the first time he had kissed a guy, maybe it was, but his kiss became more urgent as his arms pulled me into a tight embrace. It was strange, kissing another man, but somehow more sensual than anything I'd experienced before. It was if the taboo was heightening the eroticism for me.

I began to feel his bulge growing against mine as his hips pushed against me, his hands at my buttocks pulling me close against him. His fingers began caressing me through the denim of my jeans and I began to wish the fabric wasn't there and his hands were against my bare skin.

I pulled away from him as the implication of what we were doing dawned on me.

"It's too fast Bob, I'm not ready for this," I whispered.

His hand began rubbing at my chest then travelled down over my belly and onto my bulge. I groaned as he caressed me, feeling my growing erection through the fabric, tracing the outline of my cock as he stared into my eyes. Any resistance crumbled under his touch.

His fingers went to my zipper and began lowering it. He was still staring at me as my hand moved to the front of his jeans. I could feel his prick . . . God, how I wanted that prick . . . it felt so big, so big and so irresistible.

His hand slid inside my fly and began to massage my cock through my thin briefs. My hands dropped to my sides, my own action forgotten as he fondled me. I stood, passive, as his fingers moved up and down the shaft, coaxing an ever increasing erection from me. As his fingers delved over my waistband and onto my bare cock if felt as if this was what my cock was truly destined for, the caress of another man.

He kissed me again as he eased my erection out of my briefs. I watched as he began to wank me, his fingers moving over the head and down the shaft. My own hands unbuckled my belt and allowed my jeans to drop to the floor. Bob pulled my briefs down to follow them. I stood naked from the waist down in front of him, desperate for more of his touch.

He slid down my body, taking what seamed like an eternity to reach my cock. Although, in reality, he'd barely touched me I could feel my orgasm building inside me, filling my groin. I closed my eyes, unable to look, as I felt his mouth covering my cock. It felt so good as his lips slid over me taking me deep, in one movement, to the back of his throat. My hips began to move as if they had a mind of their own, thrusting into him. I knew this was wrong but I had never felt so alive, so receptive to another's touch as now.

At last I opened my eyes and I looked down at my cock sliding into his mouth. It was then I knew I had to experience the same, if only once. I reluctantly drew him upright and off me. We kissed again as my hands moved down his chest to his waist then to the front of his jeans. I unzipped him and reached inside, his briefs the only barrier between my fingers and his naked cock, but only momentarily. As I slid his jeans and briefs down I went to my knees in front of him. His cock stood high, inches from my face. This was only the second time I had seen another man's erect cock, expect on DVD or video, and the other time was his too, through the window of his retreat. I looked closer, examining the heavily veined shaft topped by a faintly purple coloured bulbous head. I reached up and my hand encircled the hard shaft and began to rub the loose skin up and down as I had done so many times to my own. As I squeezed on the up stroke I saw a small pearl of precum ooze from the single eye. I heard him groan as I moved my head closer, my tongue slipping between my lips to lick the end of his cock. Even the small drop seemed to fill my mouth with his salty taste. I began to lick up and down his shaft as I had seen so many times in porn movies, tracing the veins with the tip of my tongue until I reached the smooth head.

As I slid the glans into my mouth I could understand why so many women love sucking cock. The feel of the head sliding over my lips, teeth and tongue was like no other. As my lips moved down his shaft and the cockhead went deeper towards my throat I began to regret what I had missed over the previous years. None of my teenage fantasies could compare to this reality. I removed him, once more to lick up the length of his shaft my tongue playing momentarily about his pisshole before my lips slide over him again and he lodged deep into my mouth. God, I loved it when the head entered my mouth and he slid deep into me. I began to gently caress his balls, arousing him even more. I could feel his body shuddering as I fellated him. This was indeed heaven, but what now? I wanted, craved, him to cum in my mouth, but could I swallow?

Many years ago during an unusually adventurous bout of lovemaking I had cum over my wife's tits and she laughingly asked me to lick it off, but for some reason I couldn't and handed her a tissue.

But this was different; it was juice directly from the source, and not mine. I hadn't time to deliberate further, Bob's cock pushed deep into my mouth, as deep as I could take him, and the cum jetted from him straight down my throat. I was disappointed, I wanted a mouth full of cum, just to see if I could swallow, but most of it was now in my stomach. As he pulled back I squeezed his shaft coaxing the last drops of cum out of him, letting them linger on my tongue to mix with my saliva, before I swallowed.

As I stood upright he went down. No preliminary licking as I had, my cock went into his mouth and straight to the back of his throat. I could see his cheeks hollowing as he sucked on me, his throat muscles milking the head of my cock. I felt the cum ready to explode from me, my legs went weak and I must have groaned loudly. I watched as he removed me, positioning the head inches from his lips and opening his mouth wide, as his hand provided the final stimulation I needed. The cum shot from me into his open mouth, each jet hitting its target. He squeezed every drop onto his tongue and stood his mouth still open. I looked; my ejaculate covered the inside of his mouth, a large dollop resting in the hollow he'd formed on his tongue. I watched, enviously, as he swallowed, then opened his mouth again, it was empty.

Next time, I thought, I'll do that.

I realised then that this was not a 'one off'. I wanted his cock again and again, and I wanted him to have mine, in every possible way. Not tonight, but soon, tonight we were both sated.

We lay together on the hard wooden floor playing gently with each others cock and balls, allowing a finger to circle the rim of our tight arseholes, the tingling informing both of us where our next encounter would take us. As we kissed again a voice echoed down the garden.

"Bob, are you there?"

As Bob stood he pulled his jeans back up and zipped them. I still lay on the floor looking up at him.

"I'll be up shortly, love," he shouted as I caressed the still bulging front of his jeans.

"Dave from next door is looking for you," Audrey shouted again.

"Ok, thanks," Bob replied as he reached his hand down to help me up.

"Tomorrow?" Bob asked as I dressed.

I nodded, smiling almost embarrassingly at him.

"I'll bring something," he added.

I knew immediately what he meant, something to ease the way, something to allow my new fantasy to come true. As I stood in front of him his hand began to rub the front of my jeans but this time it wasn't there that I was wondering about. Would it hurt? I thought . . . as he entered me, or would the lubricant eliminate any discomfort. The women in the porn movies seemed to take anal penetration so easily, but what was their first time like? I would find out, tomorrow. As the night passed and my wife fussed over me, as usual, 1 began to realise the enormity of what had just happened. Many married people stray, it's a fact of life, but most marriages survive such indiscretions but when it involves a homosexual relationship it rarely does. When a partner appears to prefer someone of the same gender the betrayal seems far worse than it normally would. As I sat watching some inane program on the television I couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if Bob and I had been discovered. Two marriages ruined, four lives destroyed, but how could we resist now that we had tasted the delicious illicitness of our actions. I wanted him and I know he wanted me, but could we hide what was happening from everyone? We had too. I suppose two guys spending lots of time together can be easily explained, shared interests often result in an inordinate amount of time being spent with a friend, at least I hoped so.

As I lay in bed that night feeling my wife 'spooning' against my back and her breasts rising and falling as she breathed, I began to question my attraction for another man's cock, but only for a few seconds. The more I tried to dissuade myself from continuing the relationship the more I realised how much I needed it. Whether it was Bob I needed or what lay, or stood, between his legs I wasn't sure. What was certain was I couldn't stop. What started as an indiscretion had instantly become a drug, an addiction, after just one incident.

I could feel my wife's pubic bone pushing against me as she slept and I began to wonder if the next time that happened it would be Bob, with his hard cock pushing against me, seeking entrance. I began to get hard thinking about it, anticipating the event.

The next day passed as in a haze, what tasks I had to complete were littered with errors. I wasn't always thinking of Bob and tonight, but my ability to concentrate had been compromised by my anticipation. I would find myself drifting off into a place of blank thoughts, as if escaping reality, or just refusing to think about tonight in case it manifested itself in a raging hardon that would soon be noticed.

By the time I'd arrived home lust and fear had become one in the same, indistinguishable from one another. When eight o'clock came, the time we had arranged, I was almost shaking with anticipation. My wife inquired as to what was wrong and I said it was a problem at work that would eventually resolve itself. When I added that I was going to see Bob at his retreat for a while she was pleased, saying that it would relax me and take my mind off my problem; little did she know.

In only a few minutes I was standing in Bob's overgrown garden, looking at the path that led to his wooden building. It was as if it was hiding itself away in the undergrowth, away from prying eyes and the condemnation that would result in disclosure.

As I walked slowly down the long path towards the door I saw the curtains twitch as he looked for me. By the time I arrived he was standing at the open door moving to one side as I entered, locking the door behind me discreetly. As soon as I turned his hands were all over me, caressing, feeding my growing arousal. His hands went to my arse cheeks and pulled me almost painfully against him as his pelvis made small circular motions, his cock rubbing against mine through our denim.