© Copyright 2012, All Rights Reserved ©
Tom, a tall, slender man in his sixties, entered the men's dressing room and headed for his locker. He joined the YMCA a little over six months ago, mainly for the swimming pool and sauna, and had just participated in his first low impact aerobics class; it had turned out to be more of a workout than he had imagined. He stripped out of his exercise clothes, pulled on his swim trunks and headed for the wet area, picking up a washcloth along the way. Tom stopped long enough to soak the washrag in the sink and entered the sauna.
"Do you mind?" he asked the sauna's only occupant.
"Na, go ahead."
With that, Tom squeezed the water from the cloth onto the hot rocks and recoiled slightly at the hissing noise and rising steam. Instantly, the small room seemed to be ten degrees hotter.
"Peps it up, doesn't it?" Tom laughed.
"Sure does," the stranger agreed, turning his head first in one direction and then the other till it popped. "My name's Mike," he added, extending his hand.
Mike appeared to be roughly the same age as Tom but shorter and a little heavier set.
"Tom shook the proffered hand. "I'm Tom," he said, then climbed to the upper bench and took a seat.
"You're already sweating," Mike observed, "have a good workout?"
"Just did my first aerobics class," Tom explained. "It's harder than it looks but I really want to get rid of my gut, —my spare tire," he added, patting his middle.
"So I hear," Mike replied, "But the instructor looks pretty hot."
"You mean that little blond?" Tom asked.
"Yeah, the little bitty one."
"She's super-hot!" Tom agreed. "I could devour her."
"You'd like to eat her pussy, aye?"
"Oh hell yes! She's such a doll I'd do her if nothing else happened; I'd love to get those pretty little legs wrapped around my neck. - - - Wouldn't you?"
Mike thought for a second before answering. "I'd rather hold that little, blond head in my hands," he said, pantomiming his words, "move it down to my crotch and watch my dick start going in and out of her pretty little mouth."
"Yeah, that would be great, Tom concurred, closing his eyes for a moment to picture the scenario. "But I'd still want to eat her."
"If you could have it one way or the other, but not both," Mike began, "which would you choose?"
"Well, blowjobs are great," Tom allowed, "but if I had to pick just one, I'd eat that little gal's pussy till she went into a screaming orgasm!"
"Would you let her take on the role of a dominatrix and be her suck-slave for a day?"
"I've always wondered about that," Tom confessed, chortling softly, "it could be hot, I think." He pondered the situation for a long minute. "Yeah, I'd do it," he said at last. "But, not just for a day, —for an entire week!"
"You really like giving oral, don't you?"
"Oh yeah, I've loved going down on a pretty woman ever since I was in high school," Tom admitted. "To tell you the truth, the first thing I wonder about when I see a pretty woman is what it would be like to go down on her. - - - I kind of peek at her ass if I can, or her camel toes and imagine what it would be like to get my face in it. —How about you?"
"Well, I'm kind of the exact opposite," Mike explained. "The first thing I do is look at her mouth and imagine what it would be like to slide my cock in it." He laughed. "One advantage I have over you is that I can look at her mouth all I want and not worry about getting slapped if I'm caught staring."
They both laughed and Mike continued.
"I'm not keen on eating pussy, but I LOVE getting my cock sucked! It is my favorite thing in the whole world." He chuckled softly. "Yeah, —I really love a good blowjob!"
"I like blowjobs too," Tom assured, "But I LOVE going down on a pretty woman and I always stay till the job is done . . . I guess I really am an oral guy."
"Did you ever suck a dick?"
"Hell no!" Tom snapped back. "I'm not gay, I just love eating pussy." He relaxed a little when Mile held his hands up palms out and continued. "Look, I'm a happily married guy and have always loved women."
"No offence," Mike responded.
"None taken," Tom replied, "just want to be sure you know I'm straight."
"Okay, but tell me the truth, —have you ever thought about sucking a dick?"
"Well, the doctors who study this stuff say everybody thinks about it once in a while."
Mike thought he blushed slightly but it was hard to tell in the hot sauna.
"Doesn't mean they want to do it," Tom explained, "it's just a normal curiosity."
"So, you have thought about it . . . thought about sucking a dick?"
"Well, a few times, I guess, but everybody does."
"I never have," Mike replied. "But then I don't like using my mouth for sex, —hell I don't even like eating pussy . . . just like to have my cock sucked." He glanced at his watch. "I'd rather have a gal suck me off than fuck her any day!"
"Are you married?"
"Yeah, and my wife use to give really great head, —till she went through the change and lost interest in sex."
"Too bad," Tom observed. "My wife went through the change last year and I've been cut off ever since." He shook his head disbelievingly. "She won't even let me eat her pussy anymore."
"Got yourself a girlfriend on the side?" Mike asked.
"Na, I really love my wife and don't want to risk screwing up my marriage. How about you."
"Mike smiled wryly and shook his head. "I was doing fine for almost a year until last month when the source of my relief, —my oral provider, retired and moved out west." He chuckled softly. "Before that, I was getting two or three blowjobs a week with no strings attached."
"You didn't do anything in return; she just sucked your cock for you."
"No reciprocation of any kind," Mike assured.
"I'll bet you were sure sorry to see her go."
"Well - - - I didn't say it was a she."
Tom stared in disbelief. "You had a gay guy sucking you off?"
"Oh, he wasn't gay," Mike corrected. "He was a straight married guy who loved to give oral . . . and whose wife had cut him off." He shrugged. "Kind of like you."
"Well, if he started sucking dick, he wasn't like me," Tom responded quickly, his voice sounding strained.
"We'd been friends for years," Mike explained. "I knew he loved eating pussy so, when we both got cut off at home and he said he didn't want to take up with some strange gal, I suggested to him that if he liked eating the hole, he might love sucking the pole."
"And, he went for that?"
"Not at first; he was afraid it would make him gay," Mike said. "Then I explained to him that it doesn't matter if a guy is sucking a dick, or getting his cock sucked by a guy . . . it's the same thing."
"How do you mean?"
"Well, neither one of them is gay; they are both just horny and one is not doing anything gayer than the other, —they are both just releasing some tension." He cocked his head and looked quizzically at Tom. "Doesn't that make sense?"
"Well, I agree that neither one of them is gayer than the other."
"So, are you calling me gay for letting him suck my dick?"
"No," Tom replied, sounding nervous. "I mean, —it's not for me to judge." He thought for a moment and then asked: "Is he the only guy you've ever had suck your dick?"
"Yup," Mike replied. "Before my wife went through the change, she was one great little cocksucker, —and really enjoyed swallowing a big load of cum." He looked toward the ceiling and rubbed his crotch in fond remembrance. "She always took very good care of my horny cock so there was no need for me to have anyone else sucking me off."
"And, you didn't eat her pussy?"
"Oh, maybe once every month or so, —fucked her once or twice a week too, but most of the time she just sucked my cock for me . . . until menopause struck and ruined everything!"
"How long ago was that?"
"A little over a year, but lucky for me, Jim's wife went through the change about the same time."
"Jim is the guy who's been sucking your cock?"
"Yeah, I think it was less than two months from the time my wife stopped sucking me off till he started."
"Good timing, —and I guess you both enjoyed it," Tom observed. "I know I sure miss sex," he added remorsefully.
"Do you want to know something else about Jim?"
"Sure, —what?" Tom asked, almost whispering.
"He was like you in another way too; he fantasized about taking an orally submissive role and being dominated and kind of controlled. — forced to suck."
"Look, I was talking about that girl, I mean, —"
"Oh, I know," Mike said reassuringly, "but he said it took all the pressure off him giving up control. He said it was like he wasn't responsible or in charge, so all his concerns about being gay went away."
"That sounds silly," Tom retorted. "But, I guess, in a way, it does kind of make sense."
"Sure," Mike explained.. "We remained friends and equals just like we had always been, but two or three times a week, he would become my valet and undress me, —then turn into my obedient, pussy-mouthed suck bitch and service my cock for me . . . something we both thoroughly enjoyed."
"And - - - you came in his mouth?"
"Of course!" Mike said emphatically, "and he swallowed every drop."
Tom didn't respond but sat analyzing what Mike had said; it all seemed so strange to him to be talking to a man about getting his dick sucked . . . especially when there was a subliminal yet undeniable suggestion that maybe he should also suck this stranger's dick.
"For one thing, that's how I like my blowjobs to end, with me dumping my load in the cocksucker's mouth." Mike took a deep breath, blew it out and continued. "For another, during those special couple of hours a week, he was my bitch; he had no choice, no say in anything that happened. During those sessions, he was there strictly to lick and suck my cock and balls, to serve, service, please, pleasure and amuse me with his pussy-mouth and get absolutely nothing in return but a big load of goo shot in his mouth, a big wad that he knew ahead of time I would make him eat."
"Well, it all sounds very interesting," Tom allowed, "But, remember, —I'm not him."
"Oh I know," Mike hastened to assure. "Everybody's different and has different buttons," he paused and smiled broadly, "but . . . if you didn't find my story kind of interesting, —you'd have been out the door a long time ago!"
"You're an interesting guy," Tom said. "I'll give you that." He left the sauna, showered off, dressed and prepared to leave the building. He had just reached the exit when he heard a now familiar voice.
"Hey, Tom." Mike smiled at him from the open doorway to the game room. "Wanna play a little ping pong?"
He didn't know how Mike had gotten there ahead of him . . . but he had. "Why not?" Tom replied; "I used to be pretty good."
"Me too," Mike replied, "but I really haven't had anyone to play with since Jim moved away." That sardonic smile crossed his face again. "If you really enjoy the game, —maybe you can take Jim's place."
"At ping pong, you mean?"
"Sure," Mike's face broadened into a wide grin. "What else?"
Tom had been back to the YMCA twice without running into Mike and had just about forgotten their protracted conversation when history repeated itself. He changed into his swimsuit after the aerobics class, soaked a washrag and entered the sauna . . . and there he was.
"Tom, how you doing?" Mike asked.
Tom felt his face flush with embarrassment though he didn't know why. After all, it was Mike who had admitted to having a homosexual relationship with another man. In fact, a prolonged homosexual relationship with session occurring two or three times a week for almost a year while Tom had remained pure as the driven snow.
"Fine," Tom replied, "how about yourself?" he squeezed water onto the hot rocks and climbed to his perch on the top bench . . . maybe a little closer to Mike than he had been during their previous conversation.
"Pretty good," Mike returned, "just horny as hell!" He began rubbing his crotch.
Tom laughed nervously. "There's a lot of that going around," he replied, trying desperately not to look at Mike's crotch, and only patricianly succeeding.
"You only beat me at ping pong by three points last time," Mike reminded, "I'd like a rematch."
"Sure," Tom agreed, glad that the conversation had not turned to sex, "any time."
"My friend Jim, —the one I told you about, called me yesterday."
"That's nice," Tom allowed. "I remember you said you two had been good friends for several years."
"Yes and we still are."
"That's good," Tom replied, beginning to feel nervous again.
"I told him about you," Mike returned. "He said you sound like a nice guy and he'd like to meet you sometime."
"What do you mean, you told him about me?" Tom asked apprehensively.
"Oh, I just told him I met a nice guy named Tom, that's all; —Remember, I am the soul of discretion." Mike laughed. "I just told him you were a very nice guy who loved to eat pussy and had been cut off at home."
"What'd he say?"
"He said I should explain to you how great it would be for both of us if you'd start sucking my cock on a regular basis . . . even greater if you did what he did and took on the role of a submissive suck bitch."
"That's not going to happen, —so put it out of your mind."
"I know, I know." Mike chuckled. "He did say; if you wanted to hear the cocksucker's opinion of that relationship, —he'd be happy to talk to you about it."
Tom was amazed. Here was a basically straight, married man who had no problems referring to himself as a cocksucker and even recommending the experience. "Well, —it would be interesting to talk to him," Tom agreed, "as long as he doesn't know who I am."
"He's fifteen-hundred miles away!" Mike laughed. "What are you afraid of, —that he'll jump through the phone lines and call you a cocksucker?"
"Nobody can call be a cocksucker," Tom said defiantly, "I've never sucked a cock before."
That mocking, sardonic grin spread over Mike's face again. "Before when?" he asked.
"You know what I mean," Tom stammered. "I've never sucked a dick ever, —and I'm not going to start now."
"I got it," Mike assured. "You love to suck but, —you are cut off at home. You will not take up with another woman and you won't suck my perfectly safe married cock . . . so you are going to go through the rest of your life without having any sex other than jacking yourself off." He shook his head. "Is that about it?" He rubbed his crotch a little more obviously. "Tell me the truth; does that sound stupid, —or what?"
In Tom's mind, —that did sound stupid, extremely stupid, —dumber than dirt in fact. Maybe, he thought, I can hire a prostitute now and then, eat her out, and then have her give me a blow job. He caught himself glancing at Mike's hand . . . the one rubbing his crotch, and forced his eyes upward. If I can buy her, he thought, so can everyone else . . . and that puts her at high risk for STDs.
"Look," Mike began, "If I liked to suck, —I'd have no problem sucking your cock; I just don't like to suck, — in fact, I hate it!" He grimaced. "I even hate sucking pussy, —and there's no way in hell that I'm ever going to suck a dick and take a load of goo in my mouth!"
"So . . . why do you think I should do it?"
Mike thought for a few seconds. "Do you like oysters on the half-shell?" he asked.
"I love them!" Tom replied. "I can make an entire meal out of them."
"I hate them!" Mike came back. "So, —does that mean you should stop eating them?"
"Of course not, —and I see your point," Tom agreed. "Can we change the subject; this is making me kind of uncomfortable."
"Okay, but let me make one final statement," Mike agreed. "I have a cock that loves being sucked and you have a mouth that loves to suck; they are only four feet apart . . . and yet neither one is getting what it wants , what it craves." He shook his head in mock disgust. "Does it make any sense for me to have a horny cock and you to have an empty mouth?"
"We need to talk about something else," Tom said softly, "this is really kind of embarrassing me." He rubbed his brow and flipped sweat onto the hot rocks. "I mean, I'm not gay or bi, I've never sucked a cock . . . and don't plan on starting now."
"No problem," Mike returned, "But, since our last conversation, you have been thinking about sucking my cock, haven't you?"
"I'm going to swim a couple of laps to cool off," Tom, said, "then I'll give you that ping pong rematch."
The two left the sauna and went their separate ways.
The water temperature in the pool was a very comfortable eighty-two degrees and Tom waded in and began swimming back and forth, alternating between the breast and the back stroke, he swam four laps and then headed for the showers. After washing the chlorine out of his hair and swimsuit, he toweled dry and went to his locker. Tom was secretly glad and maybe just a little disappointed that Mike was not standing next to him naked; he was a little curious how his new, unusual friend was hung. Not that he would ever suck his dick, still . . . he wondered. Finally, he tossed his towel in the bin and walked toward the exit.
As he approached the front desk, he could see Mike chatting with the girl behind the counter and, it appeared to Tom, he was focused on watching her mouth move.
"Hey," Mike greet when Tom drew nearer, "are you ready for that ping pong rematch?"
Tom glanced at his watch. "Sure," he said, "I don't know why I'm looking at my watch; I really don't have anywhere I need to be this afternoon.
The two stepped into the game room and stopped; —there were two teenaged boys batting the little white orb back and forth on the green, wooded table.
"Why aren't those little bastards in school? Mike queried.
"No matter; I live about five minutes from here and I have a nice table at my house."
"Well . . . . . "
"Come on," Mike said good-naturedly. "You're a big boy and besides, —rape isn't my thing."
Tom flushed with embarrassment. He felt like his manhood had been challenged and that was something he could not allow. "Fine," he said. "I'll follow you."
Mike led the way in his cream colored Mercury, chatting away on his cellphone; Tom followed in his tan Dodge Ram. Their path wound around behind the Publix Shopping Plaza and through a modest but well maintained subdivision. Finally, Mike pulled into the driveway of a single story white block home and switched off the engine; Tom pulled in behind him and did likewise.
"Here we are," Mike said, unlocking the front door and pushing it open, "welcome to my humble abode.
"Very nice," Tom said as he stepped into the living room and looked around. "Is your wife home?"
"No, she works downtown and doesn't get home till round six," Mike replied. "I was talking to her on the phone on the way over here. She doesn't get off for a couple of hours and it takes her right at an hour to get home." He chuckled, put his hand on Tom's shoulder and guided him through the living room, the dining room and out onto the screened porch.
There was a bamboo sofa along one wall separating the porch from the house with small rattan end tables and matching chairs on either side. The floor tile was a brilliant, marbled shade of cerise with while grout and a five bladed Hunter Ceiling Fan hung directly over the net on the dark-green ping pong table; two paddles lay on one end of the playing surface, one pinning a white ball to the wood. Through the screen a small swimming pool could be seen in the modest back yard that was enclosed be a wooden privacy fence. Along the wall to Tom's far right a Budweiser chandelier hung over a rattan bar with four bamboo barstools parked in front of it.
"Grab a seat," Mike said, indicating the couch with a wave of his hand. "Want a beer?"