Men Go Their Own Way Pt. 01

'Listen,' he said, 'I didn't mean to suggest that you aren't welcome to the group.'

'Well, good,' I said, 'because I intend to come back. I like the debate.'

'I see that,' he said, and eyed me, smiling slightly.

'So you're... bisexual? You like women and men equally?'

'Pretty much,' I said.

'I bet,' he said, 'that if I were to take you out to dinner, and show you the kind of time that I would show a woman, I could persuade you that I could have anyone I want, as long as they're open to the experience.'

'Are you asking me on a date,' I said.

'Yes, if you like.'

'But you're straight.'

'Oh, it's the 21st century,' he said, flapping a lazy hand. 'Surely one ought to at least try new things.'

'All right, then,' I said.

'Good,' he said, and we exchanged numbers.

***

I showed up to the restaurant wearing my best suit.

It was the kind of restaurant I could never normally afford to eat in. And I wanted to be sure I didn't over-indulge. As the waitress showed me to the table, Bryan was already there, wearing another of his expensive suits.

He rose, smiled warmly and held out his hand. I shook it, and we sat down.

'I didn't bring flowers,' he said, 'only because I thought it would be too much.'

I laughed, despite myself.

'It's fine. I'm terrible at looking after flowers, anyway.'

'What are you in the mood for?' he asked, handing me the menu. 'It's my treat, so don't worry about a thing.'

I looked at the menu and I fought the desire to widen my eyes in shock. Several of the dishes went into three figures. I wanted to seem cool and reserved, someone he would have to win.

I ordered a salad and a fish dish, and he complimented me on the choice and ordered us both champagne.

He was still a handsome enough guy, a little thick around the waist, but it was the charm that was winning. As soon as we had drinks and our food was on the way, he immediately began to ask me about myself: what did I do? Where had I grown up? Where had I gone to university? What did I do in my spare time? Where did I want to go? Few people had ever shown so much interest in me, and I answered his questions honestly and asked him some in return.

He was rather less forthcoming, describing himself as doing 'this and that', and he quickly turned the conversation back to me.

As the meal went on, he kept slipping me little compliments about how bright I was, and how much I knew about things, and what a smart head I had.

Little by little, I found myself being won over.

We didn't talk much about love or sex, but he let out that he had never been married, although he'd been with 'many lovely women'. I told him about two of my longer-term girlfriends, but he didn't ask about the men I'd been with. It was like he wanted to maintain a fiction in his head that I wasn't a man.

And then, he started to drop little hints about us continuing to talk 'later'. I didn't follow these up, but neither did I change the subject away from them. I wanted to see where the night would go.

As the meal wound up, and we finished our desserts, he wiped his mouth and then looked up at me.

'So,' he said, 'would you like to... carry on? I have some very nice dessert wine chilling at home.'

'I'd love to,' I said. 'Thank you.'

He called a taxi for us, and we rode to his house, chatting about this and that. He kept the conversation light. He didn't touch me. It was rather like riding with an older relative.

He paid for the cab, and tipped generously. Then he walked me to his front door and let us both in. He showed me to the living room and invited me to sit, and he'd fetch us drinks.

I sat on the sofa, and presently, Bryan appeared with a bottle of chilled, golden wine and two glasses. He poured us each a glass and we toasted each other.

'And now,' he said, turning to face me and smiling, 'tell me all about how you discovered you like men.'

So I told him: all about my early fantasies about male friends, and my fears at school of being found out, and coming out in my twenties, and my first fumbling attempts at sex. He shifted closer, listening intently, interrupting me to ask questions, and his arm grew closer to mine.

'And that's pretty much it,' I said. 'I know who I am and I'm fine with it.'

'I can see that,' he said. 'It's very seductive.'

I said nothing.

'I'd like to kiss you, if I may,' he said.

'Sure,' I said.

He leaned in and kissed me, and then he put his arms around me and his tongue went into my mouth.

That was it. I was seduced. I had been wined and dined, and this man had sweet-talked me into letting him kiss me. He had been right: he could talk me into wanting him, even though I wasn't even sure I found him physically attractive: I just wanted him to sweep me up and take me.

We kissed for a long time, with him running his hands all over my body, inside my suit jacket, and then he pulled away.

'Wait there,' he said, smiling, and went out.

I sat and took a breath and sipped some wine. After a long moment, I heard him behind me say, 'Stand up.'

I stood up and turned around.

Bryan was naked, and smiling at me. He was indeed rather bulgy around the waist, but his cock was long and narrow. There was a cock ring around its base. I stared at him.

I wanted that inside me.

'Does that usually work with women?' I said.

'You'd be surprised how many,' he said, and he came around the sofa and stood in front of me. He slid my jacket off my shoulders and tossed it onto the sofa.

I stood there, and he knelt and unlaced my shoes and took them off, and then my socks. He got up again, rather stiffly, and undid my belt and slid my suit trousers down, and I stepped out of them, then he unbuttoned my shirt and took it off until I stood before him in just my boxers.

'Turn around,' he said softly.

I turned, and I saw my reflection in the giant plate glass window that looked onto his back garden. Out in the night I could see the lit windows of other houses. Anyone who was really spying hard on Bryan could probably see us through that window.

He slowly eased my boxers down over my hips, stripping me naked, and then he pressed his naked body into mine.

'You have a lovely body,' he said. 'It's crying out to be used.'

'Mmm,' I said.

'Shall we make love now?'

I giggled at the weird formality of this, when we were standing naked in his living room and his cock was pressing between my buttocks, but I nodded my head.

He came out from behind me, took my hand and led me out of the living room, across the hall and into an enormous bedroom.

We lay on the bed--Bryan had the smoothest cotton sheets I'd ever felt against my skin--and began to kiss and caress each other. We did that for a long time, and it was more tender than sex with a guy normally is, for me; I sensed that he wanted to put off doing anything more than that until he'd got used to it.

'In case you're wondering,' he whispered as he kissed my face, 'I won't be giving you oral sex. Mouths are for kissing.'

'That's fine,' I panted, 'I don't really enjoy it anyway.'

'Good boy,' he said.

Boy? I thought. I'm like, fifteen years younger than you.

We rolled on the bed for what must have been half an hour, getting used to each other's bodies. Occasionally he took my cock in his hand and pulled on it, but I was so hard that it was hardly necessary.

'You sure you haven't done this before?' I whispered.

'Not really. One fumbles around at school, but nothing like this,' he said. 'Unless you mean what I'm going to do to you shortly.'

'What are you going to do to me shortly?' I said, as he kissed my neck and pulled on my cock.

'I always think that a woman's vagina is a sacred place,' he said. 'One not to be entered lightly. It is an enchanted cave. It is where birth takes place.'

'Ohhh...' I gasped as he stroked my bare buttocks and pulled harder on my penis.

'But the anus,' he went on, 'is more basic. It is more universal. Everyone has one. It is the place of convenience. When the vagina is off limits, the anus can be yielded up.'

He rolled me onto my stomach and kissed the back of my neck. I spread my legs, knowing what was coming, and placed my hands flat on the sheet, receptive and willing.

I felt him smear cool gel between my buttocks.

'Oh god,' I gasped.

'That,' he said, 'is why sodomy is such a great leveller. Anyone can be buggered by anyone else.'

'Oh, please...'

'Of course,' he said in a thick voice, 'you know this, don't you.'

And he pushed his cock between my buttocks and up against my anus.

'AaaaaaaUUHH!' I moaned.

Slowly, he worked his cock into my arse, and as the bulb split me, there was a brief pain, but then he was inside me, and I had the familiar feeling that I was full up, back there.

Bryan breathed heavily as he began to pump into my arse, and I lay beneath him and buried my face in the sheet and squealed.

I think he liked that.

'Oh yes,' he panted, 'that's it, tell me how much you love this, tell me how you love having me in your arse.'

'Oh, god,' I whimpered, 'I love it, oh fuck, oh, you're in my arse, you're fucking my ass...'

'Look at you,' he murmured, 'so calm and collected in the group, when this is what you love. Being held down and buggered.'

'Ohhh...'

'Are you my little bitch-boy?' he whispered in my ear, leaning over my squirming body. 'Are you my bitch?'

'Oh, fuck,' I gasped, 'yes...'

His cock was driven in me to the base. He was splitting me like a peach and riding me mercilessly. My eyes were tight shut.

'Are you really bisexual?' he panted. 'Are you sure that this isn't all you want? To be stripped and held down and fucked up your tight little gay arse?'

I was whimpering helplessly, making myself more and more feminine, urging him on.

'Because you look like it to me,' he grated, driving his hips into me, forcing home the truth of what he was saying with every thrust of his shaft into my rectum.

'I told you,' he said, 'I told you I could do it, I told you I could take you out and wine you and charm you, and seduce you into giving your body to me. And I did, didn't I.'

At that moment, that was all I wanted to be: the hole for him to fuck, and the lolling, squirming male body that housed it. I knew he was going to consummate his total conquest of me by cumming inside me, and I wanted nothing more than for him to do that.

'Aaaaahhhhhh....' he gasped, and his hips bucked into mine, and his cock spent itself inside my arse, and I let out a girlish squeal and then I felt his semen flooding inside me, and I lay there, panting for breath.

He stopped pistoning into me, and for a moment, we were still, the two of us on his bed, he mounted on me, his hands on my sweaty back holding me down, my face buried in the sheet, his softening cock still inside my arse.

And then he abruptly pulled out of me, and rolled me onto my back.

I blinked up at him--and then he slapped me hard in the face.

'And now,' he said, 'you can fuck off, you filthy little slut. I knew you were a cheap little whore, but I hardly thought you'd do this on a first date.'

'W-what?' I said, still dazed and flushed. He rolled me off the bed and I fell to the floor.

He got up, grabbed a robe from a chair beside the bed and pulled it on. I was getting to my feet and he strode around to where I was, grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the room, marching me through the hall to the door.

'Out of my house, you whore,' he snapped.

'But I thought you...'

'I can't believe you're like the rest of them,' he said. 'A cheap slut who'll give her body for a meal and some glasses of wine. You disgust me.'

'My clothes,' I stammered, but Bryan got to the front door, opened it, and shoved me outside. I turned and it slammed in my face.

I was standing in his driveway at midnight, stark naked, still damp with sweat, still breathless from one of the most energetic fuckings I'd ever received, feeling his semen dribbling out of my arse.

It was cold. The gravel hurt my bare feet. I was exposed for anyone to see.

I looked around in a panic; nobody seemed to have noticed, but plenty of the houses still had their lights on. I ducked behind a bush to hide.

A window opened and my clothes were flung onto the patch of grass next to the driveway. Then it slammed shut and the curtains were drawn.

Cursing under my breath, I scrambled over and sorted them out. I noticed that my boxers were missing; he had evidently kept them as a souvenir. I pulled on shirt, trousers, socks, shoes and jacket, and stuffed my tie into a pocket, then I got up and began to walk home.

***

After that I didn't go back to the group for a month.

I was so enraged with Bryan that I couldn't stand to look him in the face. The humiliation of being used like that, and then to be told off for letting myself be used, was so piercing that I sometimes had to stop and shut my eyes and calm myself down, lest I get angry again.

But in the end, I couldn't let him win. If I had never shown up and faced him, I would have confirmed his opinion of me as someone with no self-respect. But I had self-respect. I had thought he was genuinely interested in me, not just in a curiosity-fuck with a willing queer guy. It wasn't my fault that he was a scumbag. He had had his fun with me, and then he'd had the extra fun of chucking me out and insulting me. Well, he was going to have to face me.

I found myself walking past the community centre on evenings when I knew the group was meeting, but not having the guts to go in.

This was frustrating. I had now had sex with three of the guys in the group, and I was too chickenshit to confront them.

Then one night, something happened that changed my attitude.

***

I had gone to the community centre, intending to go back to the group, but as usual my nerve failed. I was standing outside, reviewing the shopping list I'd put on my phone, when a voice said my name.

I looked up. It was one of the guys from the group. He was older than me, about fifty, lean and handsome and soft-spoken. He seldom spoke in the group, too, and when he did it was usually to mildly disagree with someone else's rant. He was looking at me and smiling slightly.

'Oh, hi,' I said.

'Hello,' he said. 'Haven't seen you in the group lately. Are you coming in?'

'Uh, no,' I said. 'I was going to, but I have some shopping to do.'

'Oh. Well, I've missed seeing you.'

'Thanks,' I said.

'Listen, do you mind if I ask you something,' he said, and stepped aside from the entrance, so that we were separate from the people coming in and out.

'Sure,' I said.

'This is just an idea,' he said, 'I don't know if you'd be interested, but I'm an artist, and I'm always looking for models. Would you be at all interested in posing for me?'

'I've never done that,' I said.

'Doesn't matter,' he said. 'I don't want professional models. I like to draw people. Is that something you'd be interested in doing?'

'Would I have to...'

'Oh, it would be nude, yes,' he said. 'I'd really like to draw you, if you're interested.'

'Just... posing for you?' I said. 'No fooling around?'

He smiled.

'That's not an integral part of the artistic process,' he said. 'Just drawing.... If that's what you want.'

'I think I'd prefer to keep it like that,' I said.

'So, are you interested? I can pay. Not much.'

'In that case,' I said, smiling, 'I'll definitely do it.'

***

His name was Richard. He had a studio apartment on the top floor of a building.

He sent me a list of instructions. I was to shave my face and chest and back and hips, and trim my pubic hair, and I was not supposed to wear underwear to the session, although I could wear some afterwards.

I did all these things, and then took the bus out to the suburb where he lived.

He buzzed me in, and I went up the three flights of stairs, and he let me in.

There was a table, covered with a black cloth, and the room was mostly bare otherwise, except for a sofa. It was an odd apartment; there were few furnishings, as if nobody lived there.

He had his sketchpad and a chair, and there were two large sports bags on the floor next to his chair.

After the initial pleasantries I looked around.

'Well... should I just get naked, then?'

'Yes,' he said. 'Then up on the table.'

I took off my jacket, shoes, socks, t-shirt and jeans. Naked, I stepped over to the table and got on it.

He was fully dressed in a t-shirt and sweatpants. He went over to his chair and sat in it.

I lay on my left side, resting on my left arm, my right knee slightly bent.

'Are you comfortable?' he asked.

'Yeah.'

'Okay.'

He started drawing, and after the initial strangeness had worn off of being naked in a room with a clothed man who was simply drawing me, I let my mind wander.

We chatted for a bit, me telling him how I'd learned I was bi.

'I'm not really that interested in gender,' he said.

'Oh?'

'I don't really see it. It's people I'm attracted to.'

Interesting, I thought. That at least explained why he wasn't such a sexist pig as the other guys.

'Why did you stop coming to the group?'

'Lots of reasons,' I said. 'I find a lot of the guys kind of... whiny.'

'They are, a bit,' he said with a smile.

'I mean, I like women. I don't have a problem with feminism.'

'Having a problem with feminism is a big part of why the group is there,' he said.

'Do you have a problem with it?'

'It doesn't concern me. I just get on with things.'

'Then why do you go?'

'To try and be a moderating influence, perhaps. I notice that, since you've been there, Daniel and Pete have been a little more restrained.'

I glanced at him. He was looking at me, smiling slightly. I wondered if he had figured out that I had let them fuck me.

'Can't say I've noticed,' I said.

'I think it's good having a man in the group who isn't straight,' he said. 'It keeps us more polite.'

'Maybe,' I said.

He put down his sketchpad.

'Could I try something?' he said. 'A little bit of costume.'

'Sure,' I said. He leaned over, reached into his sports bag and took out a black sleep mask.

'I'm going to put this on you, if that's okay,' he said.

'Fine,' I said. The idea of being blindfold was a little unnerving, but I decided to go with it.

He came over and slipped it over my eyes. It was padded and it kept my eyelids shut. I couldn't see a thing. I heard him go back to the chair, and then the sound of his charcoal resumed.

'Why the blindfold,' I said.

'It makes you look a little more vulnerable,' he said.

'It makes me feel a little more vulnerable,' I said, smiling.

'Good,' he said.

There was a silence. I wondered what he meant.

'It's my favourite subject, as an artist,' he said. 'The vulnerability of man. There's already the imbalance where you're nude and I'm clothed, but when you also can't see, that means you have to trust me.'

'Should I trust you?'

'I'd like you to,' he said.

I thought, That doesn't answer the question.

'Would you like to take it further?' he said.

'In what way?'

'Trust.'

I paused. I wasn't thinking of anything. I did not know what was going to happen.

'Sure,' I said.

'Great,' he said, and there was a pause, and then I heard the clink of metal, and then his arm touched my bare shoulder.

'Lie down on your side,' he said, 'and put your arms behind your back.'

I did as I was told, and I felt metal touch my wrists.

'You know what these are,' he said.

'Yes,' I said.

He was silent. He didn't move.

I didn't move my hands back around to my front.

He clicked the handcuffs around my wrists, and I felt them tighten. I tugged on them, and felt around to see if they were play handcuffs, that had a catch where I could free myself.

They were not.

I breathed deeply, and then I felt him putting padded cuffs on my ankles, so that they were also shackled together.