I'm Not Gay, But.

I didn’t have sex with a man until I was 45. I’d thought about it, of course--what straight guy hasn’t? My wife Maya was bi, and had never tried to hide it. An executive with a big company, she traveled a lot, to meetings and conventions, and when she was away she had sex with women. It was easy for her. She was dark, built, with big knockers, and a smile that would melt any heart. She met women in restaurants and shopping malls. Often they were married, and unaware of any lesbic tendencies, but when Maya whispered in their ear, they were hers, at least for the night.

We had a semi-open marriage. Maya stopped doing other men when we first met. After we married, I was free to play around, but she warned me not to form any attachments, and I knew she didn’t really like me being with other women.

“It’s a shame you’re not bi, Jake, “ she said more than once. “I wouldn’t worry about you falling for another man. You’re not the type.”

I really wasn’t. I was big, muscular, hairy, and strong, a man’s man, an alpha male. I couldn’t imagine having a cock up my ass, or sucking a guy off, or kissing some hairy brute. I’d seen a few guys I wouldn’t have minded fucking, but I didn’t want to get the reputation of being gay. I worked construction from the time I was seventeen until I learned to drive a semi at twenty-two. I loved being on the road, free as a bird, seeing America up close and personal. I had no trouble picking up women. I had a great sex life, a lot of which took place in my big sleeper. That’s where I first hooked up with Maya.

She was fresh out of business school, a rising star in the corporate world, but when I first saw her she was at the side of a busy highway, struggling to change a tire. She wore cut-off jeans and a tank top that showed off her big boobs, and she looked good enough to eat in public. I stopped to give her a hand, and ended up giving her some tongue and my cock as well, in my rig’s sleeper. We got married a few months later.

We had great sex when we were together, but as she climbed the corporate ladder she hit the road more and more often. I wasn’t worried about her sex life with women, but I knew she worried about mine. I tried to be as celibate as I could, and the soul of discretion; being on the road made that easier. But after twenty years, Maya was an executive who made so much money that I didn’t really need to work. I hung it up and became a house husband.

I know, big tough ole me. Hey, I planted shrubs and trees and a fair-size garden, kept all of that up and did the housework and cooking, and it was child’s play for me. I was just puttering around. I had plenty of free time, too much, in fact. I was bored.

I was never one to get too close to neighbors, but over the weeks of my home life, I made friends with the guy next door, Brad, whose wife was a nurse who worked a swing shift. Brad ran one of those exercise places where hot women in tight yoga pants hang out. We began having a few beers on the evenings Maya was gone and Brad’s wife was at work, and I teased him about the temptation he was surrounded with. His theory was, “Don’t shit where you eat.” Also, his wife was super jealous, and he feared one slip would end his marriage.

“So you’re like me,” I said, one afternoon as the sun was going down. “A fucking monk.”

“Pretty much,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about going the gay route.”

He was joking, but something in his tone said maybe not entirely. So we talked about the gay thing for a while, how it had become so acceptable, about the way a lot of guys were bi, whether they knew it or not, and that was Brad’s opening.

“I sometimes think I’m bi,” he said, sipping his microbrew.

“Oh?” I kept my tone neutral. “Nothing wrong with that.”

“What would you say if I told you that I get hot just looking at you?” It came in a rush, like he’d been saving it up.

“I’d take that as a compliment,” I said. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

Brad wasn’t big or muscular, but he was really nice looking, with just the trace of a beer belly. He was the kind of guy I found attractive. I could picture myself fucking him.

“I don’t know how to put this,” Brad said. “I would love to give you a blowjob.”

“Well, I’ve never had one from a man, but there’s always a first time.”

I stood up in the fading light and dropped my shorts and underwear to my ankles. My cock was starting to get hard.

“Oh my God,” my neighbor said. “Right here?”

“Nobody’s gonna see us, and if they do, who cares?”

Brad dropped to his knees and grabbed my cock, which stiffened instantly. He slowly leaned forward and began licking my glans penis, gradually taking it into his mouth as if afraid I would back out. I grabbed the back of his head and pulled him to me. It felt fantastic. I had to concentrate to keep from cumming. It seemed wicked, wrong yet right. He began to suck, going up and down my shaft, and what he lacked in skill he made up in fervency. I was holding on for dear life. He let me flop out of his mouth and licked me up and down, including my balls, then took me back in again. The pleasure was exquisite. I held him by the back of his head, and suddenly I was gushing. I hadn’t even thought about pulling out. He’d wanted this, let him have the whole experience.

He took all my cum, swallowing it, then licking the rest off my cock. Then it was over, and he stood up, looking embarrassed. His own shorts were wet where he came in them.

“This calls for a drink,” I said, stepping out of my shorts and underwear. I opened the sliding glass door, naked from the waist down, went to the kitchen, and poured us each a healthy slug of Jim Beam. I brought our drinks outside, sat down, handed him his, and sipped mine.

He took a big swallow of whiskey. His eyes avoided mine. “Any regrets, Jake?” he asked.

“None,” I said. I was feeling relaxed, and sexy. “We need to do this more often.”

“What would you think about going further?” The alcohol was making him bold. “I want you to fuck me, Jake. I’ve wanted that ever since I first saw you.”

“Come over tomorrow night,” I said. “We’ll use the guest bedroom.”

“I can’t believe this,” he said. He set down his drink. “Tomorrow, then.” He got up and went home.

I sat in the darkness, thinking about what had happened, and could not find myself feeling even the slightest glimmer of guilt. Tomorrow ought to be interesting.

It was.

When he came over I poured him a drink, and we sipped for a bit and then I stripped naked. He followed my lead.

“What now?” he asked.

“This.” I pushed him down on the bed, hovered above him, and began playing with his cock, which got hard immediately. He gasped when I took him in my mouth. It was strange to me, but not unpleasant, sucking and licking, something I would not have believed I would ever do.

I turned him over, and began probing his asshole with my fingers. I found the plastic bottle of lube I’d bought on the dresser and applied it liberally to my cock, and inside his anus. His eyes widened as I pressed the head of my cock against his anal sphincter, gradually trying to work it inside. He was tight. He moaned as I kept working, until finally the head was in. I moved slowly until the rest of me was in him, ignoring his grunts and small cries of pain. He was impaled on my cock, and I rested, letting him get used to it. I knew it had to hurt. After a time he began to relax a bit, and stopped trying to push me away. He wasn’t getting away. He was mine now. Being in him felt beyond wonderful. If I moved even a little I was going to cum.

Finally, I relaxed a bit, too, and began stroking, gingerly at first for both our sakes, then a little harder. This was great, the best I’d ever felt, but if I didn’t thrust too hard I could keep the feeling going. He was moaning, but now his moans were cries not of pain, but of ecstasy. It was a first for us both. I was fucking a man and enjoying it greatly, and he was being fucked by a man, and loving it.

I heard the front door open, and knew Maya was home. I heard her call my name, but kept stroking.

“I’m back here,” I said.

I heard her sudden intake of breath when she saw us. Then: “Woo-hoo!”

“Stop, stop,” Brad pleaded, seeing her.

“Not likely,” I said, holding him down, fucking him harder, on a glide path toward a beautiful landing.

“May I watch?” Maya asked. She leaned against the dresser, smiling.

“Sure.” I was getting close, close, closer.

“You finally wised up,” she said.

“Ohhhh!” Brad let out a long moan as jism shot up and out of his cock, and that was it for me. I had a long shuddering orgasm, which I prolonged by going deeper and letting it go.

Then I was out and Brad was clutching for covers to hide himself.

“Darling, meet our neighbor, Brad,” I said.

Holding a sheet around him, he headed for the bathroom. Maya came over and gave me a long aching kiss.

“That may have been the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” she said. “You and me, later.”

Later was our best sex ever.

Brad got over his embarrassment in a few days, and we had our evening brews the night after Maya hit the road again. We talked it out, and after a short time went to the bedroom and fucked again, doggy style this time. It became a regular thing for us, always good. We were butt buddies.

But it didn’t end there for either of us. Brad took to hanging out in gay bars, and word got around that he was a bottom, and he scored regularly. It was a little harder for me, but eventually I scored, too, even with some of my old construction buddies. It wasn’t like I needed a man often. Things were great between me and Maya, sexually.

But I learned to recognize the signs, the tells, that meant a guy was interested. He didn’t have to be gay. I preferred straight men. I was always on top, the dominant one, and most guys seemed to accept that.

All except Cliff, who’d been foreman on a construction job I’d worked in the past. I looked him up, we had a few drinks, and I told him about my bi thing. He perked up. It seemed he’d always had a man crush on me. It didn’t take much persuading to get him into bed.

Cliff was big, and even stronger than I was. When I sucked him briefly and started to lube his ass, he stunned me by saying he was going to do me instead of me doing him.

“Uh-uh.” I said. “I’m a top.”

“Not today,” he said, getting on top of me and spreading my legs. I struggled, but he wasn’t budging. So what the hell. I let him lube me, and ram his big man-tool into my virgin asshole. At first it hurt like hell, burned, ached, and he wasn’t gentle. He began thrusting me with all he had immediately, and I ground my teeth and took it, until at some point it began feeling better. Then better. Then amazing. I wrapped my legs around his back and let him fuck me like a woman, and the mixture of shame, anger, hurt, and intense pleasure was so overwhelming that I came hard and fast, and then came again. He kept on until he was done with me. Then he pulled out, gave me a sneer, put on his clothes, and left.

After that, when I had a man, especially Brad, I was not so domineering and rough.

Sometimes Maya watched me fuck other men, but I never let her watch me getting fucked. That was my secret. And I bottomed almost as often as I topped. I even let Brad fuck me. Being taken by another man was a peculiar pleasure, and it never lost its zing.

I saw Cliff from time to time. Nobody made me feel the way he did. I wondered what Maya would think if I told her that her big rough man liked being a sissy from time to time.

I wasn’t about to find out.