A Dilemma

I wrote this at the request of a Literotica reader who contacted me to ask whether I could write about a dilemma he'd undergone as a result of provocation - after which he'd spent some time questioning his sexuality.

He felt his experience might be of help to others who found themselves in similar situations but reckoned he wasn't any good at writing, so would I write about it for him? I said I'd give it consideration and what did it involve?

In the end, we met up and after a couple of hours chatting, I felt that his experience might indeed represent those of others who'd been similarly curious but doubtful. Accordingly, I recorded what he had to say and after many follow-up phone conversations to check various points, I wrote this story with his approval and on his behalf. For ease of composition, I have written it in the first person.

There is certainly some gay sex in what I've written but the main objective was to address my new friend's questions, doubts and concerns; and I truly hope that I have been successful in adequately framing those on his behalf.

In so far as I am aware, the events depicted are true.

*****

I've always been an inveterate womaniser and hitherto never remotely considered any form of sexual encounter with my own gender. Yet a couple of years ago my equilibrium was disturbed for the first time since pre-teens, by the onset and continuation of another's long-term provocation.

But I go back a little.

I had always been fairly tolerant of my children and their friends. It was rare for our house not to be playing host to a range of teenagers - both male and female and both singly and in numbers. There were many parties and when one or two of my kids' older friends had the inevitable clashes with their parents, we'd often find them living with us for a few days whilst they sorted themselves out. Occasionally it was for a few weeks and on one occasion, for over three months. In essence, our home provided them with a kind of 'half-way house' between the strictures of their parents and the possibility of going astray if they were to rely on the town and its streets for their recreation.

But to return to my subject . . . . one of the guys had been making occasional boisterous grabs at me after he noticed that my nipples were somewhat prominent when I was topless in summer heat. His game was to pinch one of them quite hard, particularly if both my hands were occupied with various tasks - whereupon he would then run off shrieking with laughter and leave me to bluster and threaten his departing form.

After a while, he went missing for a few months and his place was taken by another lad who, it turned out, had been handed the mantle to continue the assaults whenever the opportunity arose. And take it he did, with even more enthusiasm than the originator of the 'game'. But there was one subtle difference in that the hard pinching of the first guy had now given way to a gentle tweak from his 'replacement' and although the surprise element was still practiced, the grabs were by no means so painful as before.

One early evening I was dozing on the sofa after a long and strenuous walk with our four dogs. In a semi-somnolent state I began to daydream that a girl was caressing me. I could almost feel her mouth on my nipple, gently massaging it through the material of my thin T-shirt. As I came partially awake, I began to wonder if it might be real, for my day-dream now had a tongue pressing my nipple between tongue and lip and seeming to manipulate it in a deliciously sensuous manner. To my still only semi-conscious state the feeling was exquisite. It wasn't immediately sexy but the tongue's caress instigated a feeling of intense comfort - almost like that which a mother must feel with a child feeding at her breast. My mind returned to its sleepy fantasising and I did nothing but continue to lie half asleep and let the imaginary mouth have full rein.

Just as the sense of comfort was giving way to one of erotic dreaming, my wanderings were interrupted by the crashing sound of teenagers rushing into the next-door kitchen from outside. I knew they'd come into the room as soon as they'd taken off their shoes, so I sat up rubbing my eyes to see if someone actually had been there; but when I took my hands away, I was alone in the room. Despite my earlier sense of reality then, I assumed it must have been a dream after all and I just forgot about it.

Nothing much further happened for a while, except for the odd minor event which, had I been more alert, I'd have realised as first indicators that there might be something developing. For instance, Michael (the 'nipple-grabber') always appeared to sit next to me whenever we were all lazing around the morning after parties; but because so many people were in and out of our house all the time anyway, it was some while before his behaviour actually began to register with me.

In the back of my mind I was vaguely aware someone had once mentioned that Michael openly professed bi-sexuality - although when questioned, he seemingly stressed that of the two, he preferred women. None of this appeared particularly unusual, since it was quite the craze for some of their age group to adopt the fashionable mantle of being 'different' sexually. I did however semi-consciously begin to notice that Michael was often marginally possessive of me; but again, I must have thought nothing too much of that either at the time.

With hindsight, I should perhaps have recognised the implications of his behaviour.

In the end I couldn't help but notice one aspect - if he arrived late, whether we were inside the house or outside in the garden, he would always come straight over to where I was sitting and announce loudly to all present,

"I'm sitting next to Tom, so get out of the way you guys."

He would then plonk down at my side - or if someone else was already sitting next to me, he'd squeeze between us and wriggle down until he'd made a place for himself. Thereafter, he would ensure that he was the only one sitting close to me and his hand would occasionally brush my thigh quite high up in ways which, if I had objected, or if anyone else had noticed, could be laughingly dismissed as accidental or only larking about.

From time to time, he would massage my feet when I had my shoes off indoors and his hand would sometimes reach up around my ankle and slip under the bottom of my jeans to pull down my sock tops and stroke my lower calf. It was all very pleasurable and since one or two of the girls would also occasionally massage my shoulders or back, nobody seemed to pass any comment, so I just enjoyed the relaxation in the way one would a massage

Not wishing to initiate a disturbance over such trivialities by drawing attention to any of this, I found myself neutrally accepting of his behaviour, assuming if anything, that it was maybe a teen 'crush' which would probably wear off without the need for action on my part.

I had long since discovered that he was a surprisingly interesting conversationalist and found myself looking forward to our frequent chats over a wide variety of subjects, ranging from latest music trends to what was happening within their group and from politics to science, history and philosophy. Often we'd become deeply involved in detail and would frequently branch off into side issues. His maturity in many subjects shone through and it was sometimes difficult to remember that it was a teenager with whom I was conversing and not a fully expanded adult mind.

I suppose I was unconsciously flattered that one of the young should appear to enjoy the conversation and close proximity of me as an older person; but I was never really conscious of the age differential in this context because he appeared so capable of rationalising most day-to-day matters in an adult fashion and generally reached what I considered to be surprisingly mature and logical decisions.

I thus thought no more about his over-familiarity but bearing in mind how long it went on however, I should perhaps have identified a little more than just a teenage 'crush' on an older man.

Then matters took a step forward - a step which came about through a specific instance which, to be honest, provoked a curiosity in me that I hadn't experienced since the giggling excitements of pre-pubescent youth when we used to naughtily explore each others' bodies late at night in the boarding school dormitory.

What happened was that one evening while another guy and I were sharing a joint and having a few beers, I learned of an event which the guy laughingly said had occurred late one night a month or so before. Apparently, he'd caught Michael about to take full advantage of my sleeping (and rather inebriated) form on the sofa after a party to surreptitiously explore my crotch. Seemingly, Michael had already undone my zip and seemed about to go further, when the other lad came into the room. Seeing what was happening, he'd told Michael he was way out of order and had better zip me up again before I woke and went ape shit.

I was truly amazed that Michael would dare to do such a thing and although I'd not in any way been an active participant I felt somewhat embarrassed about the incident. Thus I asked the other guy to keep it between ourselves, lest a problem should be caused if it ever came out. Being born in a more enlightened age than me, he actually saw nothing particularly unusual in same gender attraction, even if it was inter-generational. His only gripe was that Michael had taken unfair advantage of my being asleep to exercise his curiosity. Nonetheless, he respected my wishes and agreed to keep silent on the matter.

I however, also had another reaction which surprised me when some time later that night I had a delayed realisation that hearing of the event had mildly excited me.

Although I soon outwardly forgot about it, the incident must have remained in the back of my mind for some time afterwards, because during another evening when we'd all had far too many beers a few weeks later, Michael was left staying over with us after all the others had gone home.

We covered him with a duvet on the sofa where I'd been sitting earlier and my son went off to bed in his own room. When I came to turn out the light upon going to bed myself, the sight of Michael's sleeping form reminded me of the incident and I drunkenly thought I might seek revenge.

Thus I waited with another beer until I thought he'd be properly asleep and then with considerable nervousness, I quietly opened my bedroom door and slipped into the sitting room, before silently making my way over towards the sofa and gently lowering onto my knees. With one hand holding a small digital camera I felt my way under his sleeping bag and lifted the duvet clear of his body so that the camera's cold body wouldn't inadvertently touch and possibly wake him up while I sought the waistband of his boxers. Thereafter, it was my intention to pull the top of his boxers far enough away to expose his dick to the camera and take a picture with which I could effectively threaten him with general exposure if he ever tried to interfere with my sleeping form again.

I drunkenly had it in mind that if he woke up during the process, I could easily explain away my actions by claiming to have been looking for my lighter which must have fallen out of a pocket when I was sitting on the sofa earlier.

In my irrational state of inebriation, I also initially convinced myself that I was only seeking revenge for his earlier action a few weeks before; but if I'm to be honest, a degree of curiosity had also been sparked within me following some catty remarks from a couple of the girls in his group about the smallness of his dick. Bearing in mind how many girls he'd purportedly been with, their claims seemed unlikely but in my drunken state, I determined to find out.

All this was somewhat tenuous reasoning I know - but then again, such is the mind of the inebriated and I thus set about my task.

Hardly daring to breathe, I very gently slid my hand over his thigh, seeking the waist-band of his boxers - but he was lying on his back and before reaching that point, my fingers encountered the outline of his cock through the thin material. Without any thought for the ramifications of what I was about to do, I instinctively began to explore what he had between his legs.

Bearing in mind what the girls had said, he actually felt a little smaller than I had expected but within seconds his penis seemed to be slowly lengthening under my finger-tips and ignoring the likelihood that he could still be awake, I was surprised to feel a very definite hardening of my own. I took one hand away from what I was doing, in order to adjust my jeans, before returning it to explore further.

I found myself really excited by the wonderful sensation of fondling his penis while he slept and as I tentatively investigated its growing tumescence, I became so preoccupied with my task that I abandoned the camera on the floor beside me and lifting the waistband of his boxers with one hand, I slipped the other inside so that I could explore him properly without any material diluting my sense of touch.

When I carefully took his now naked length in my hand again, I was further surprised to discover just how much I revelled in the seductive feel of his hardening shaft. I was fascinated by the contrasting softness of the outer covering flesh - particularly his unusually long foreskin which I delighted in gently pulling outwards beyond what felt like quite a large head. Unashamedly, I slipped my other hand in to feel and gently play with his balls - and he hardened even more. As I began to lightly squeeze along the length of his shaft, he came up to a full erection and without thinking he might wake up, I began to instinctively but carefully masturbate him.

I was just warming to my task when he moved suddenly and one of his hands touched my arm. Without thinking, I immediately panicked and worried that he might have woken up and be about to make a scene, I grabbed the camera and crawled away from the sofa towards the sitting room door. I then returned to my own room, suddenly sobering up and shaking with the shocking realisation of what I'd been doing.

Later on, when I heard nothing further from the sitting room, I assumed that he might not have been awake after all but just moving in his sleep. Having persuaded myself to that being the case, my mind returned to dwell on the experience and despite earlier worries, I found that recalling the wonderfully erotic feel of his fully erect cock in my hand excited me. Accordingly, and with my moving fingers encouraging further fantasy, I sought relief before finally turning over to sleep.

The following morning Michael was still lying under the sleeping bag - but awake - when I went into the living room. In response to the usual throwaway question about how well he'd slept, he made some remark about not sleeping too well at one stage because he'd been harassed by something or other - had we perhaps got mice in the house?

He said it with a very knowing and perhaps slightly hopeful grin on his face and with that in mind, I realised that unlike me when he'd tried the same thing all those weeks before, he must actually have been awake throughout my intrusion.

Yet he'd done nothing to curtail my surreptitious exploration of his penis and balls, so had his hand movement then, been about to help and not to stop me? The length of time he'd allowed me to so intimately fondle him led me to think it was the former. However, I had a feeling that he wasn't about to initiate any more discussion on the matter himself. Instead, it seemed as if he was just leaving it to me to move the topic on . . . .

When I didn't take him up on it, I thought I detected a fleeting look of regret on his face. Had he then perhaps been enjoying my intrusion?

Either way, I felt really embarrassed at having let my guard down and be carried away to the extent of enjoying an illicit thrill - aIbeit I had been quite drunk at the time. I was a little worried he might blurt something out in front of my son and in desperation, I covered up my resultant confusion by saying that we had to get off to the shop to buy some breakfast eggs and bacon. I duly departed with my son, thus leaving him on his own in the room. On my return, having left my son at the bus stop to go into town, no further mention of the incident came up during the ensuing breakfast.

A week or so later he rang up one evening and asked to speak to one of the kids. I said that they'd all gone out for the night and wouldn't be back until later the following day; but he replied by saying that was fine because it was actually me he wanted to talk to in private anyway - and could I possibly pick him up so he could chat to me about what was troubling him?

My stomach immediately sank at thought of having to discuss the events of 'that night' and I wondered how on earth I could possibly talk around what in my mind, had now become an extremely embarrassing situation.

Yet I need not have worried at the time, because his next remark reassured me. It seemed there'd been some enormous row at home with his parents and he wanted to ask another adult's view on things and see if I had any advice to offer.

I immediately relaxed because it was far from unusual for one or other of my kids' friends to seek my impartial view on how they should deal with various situations in their lives. Wherever possible, I always tried to offer sound advice in return - ah, the joys of being the older person to whom they all felt they could talk!

I duly drove off to pick him up and once back at our home, we discussed his problem at length, with me giving him as much advice as I felt appropriate.

We then had a couple of beers, before out of the blue and almost in mid-sentence, he went quiet for a few moments. Then he gazed down into his glass before eventually looking up again and staring straight into my eyes with a wide grin on his face, he raised the very situation I'd been dreading.

In a very quiet voice he said,

"I hope you don't mind my asking you this but what was that all about the other night then Tom?"

For a moment, I was completely stunned and covered in confusion. It had come out of the blue, just when I'd begun to relax and optimistically think the incident to be dead in the water. I was stuck over what to say for a moment, desperately trying to think of anything which might defuse the situation and perhaps allow me to divert the conversation without appearing too obvious,

"Er . . . . the other night . . . . erm, what do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean Tom." He replied gently but firmly with a disarming grin, "All that business on the sofa when you obviously thought I was asleep!"

Amazed by the directness of his approach, I remained completely flustered and in an attempt to give myself time to think about how to deal with it, I asked him if he'd first like to join me in another beer.

"I'd love one Tom, thank you." Then laughingly, "But don't think I won't ask the same question when you come back again!"

I went to the kitchen and returning with two cans of beer, I handed one to him and sat down again. I noticed my hand was trembling as I filled my glass.

"Well?" he said with an even wider and wicked grin, "You were about to tell me what that was all about the other night on the sofa when you thought I was asleep and ... Well, I think you know what I mean?"

I remained silent for a further minute or so and took a pull at my beer as he continued to grin at me, obviously enjoying my confusion but equally, still seeking an answer.

"Well Michael, you see . . . . ," I began with an exaggerated confidence I certainly didn't feel.