Quinn

Divorce is strange. Two people can go from the height of emotional and physical intimacy to barely speaking. Ana and I had been married for seven years, together for nine, and that's what happened to us. Things just suddenly ground to a halt, and the only thing left to do was walk away.

Well, "suddenly" isn't quite fair. We'd always had differences, but what couple doesn't? Our lives just took us in a direction that magnified some of our smaller differences. We also kept growing as individuals. Who knows everything about themselves (or is honest about it) when they're only twenty-one?

The short version of the whole thing is this: the future we pictured together from the vantage of our early twenties began to shift separately in each of our minds, each unique version drifting farther and farther apart. She wanted three kids and a pile of dogs, and I wanted just her and a quiet home (and maybe eventually one kid). When we couldn't overlay our visions any longer, we started to fight. It only took a few months before we realized what we had to do.

We didn't own a house, we had no kids or pets, and our only joint property was one overstuffed sectional we'd financed. I moved out, and I let her keep the furniture.

And so, there I was, heartbroken over a marriage that had ceased to exist months, maybe even years, before our divorce. For the first time since I was twenty-one, I was also a single man back on the market. Although I truly was still grieving, there was an undeniable thrill knowing I'd get to discover another person all over again.

One other thing was different this time around, too: I'd come out to Ana a year and a half ago as bi. It was something I'd known for a while, but had to take time to admit (even to myself). She was supportive, and we even tried pegging once, but I don't think she was ever totally comfortable with it. (It was only that one time she agreed to peg me.)

Six weeks after the divorce, I still felt like I was settling into my new life. I got into a better routine of working out and running, got back to earnest work on my novel, and started catching up with friends I hadn't seen for a while. I felt healthy for the first time in a long time. I also felt incredibly horny.

I decided to share my bi identity (which I'd previously shared only with Ana) with my friend Brannon. Brannon was gay.

"You're bi?!" he said, almost spitting out his beer. "Since when?"

It was a Thursday night. We were catching up over drinks at a gay bar downtown — Brannon's pick.

"I mean, probably forever?" I said. "But I only really put that label on it and embraced it last year."

"Did Ana give you a hall pass?" he said. He loosened his tie, and then his eyebrows jumped up. "Is this why you two divorced?"

"Jesus, no," I said. "I didn't want a hall pass."

"Well, shit," Brannon said. The crowd at the bar was bigger than I'd expected, even for a weeknight, and the dancefloor was relatively full. "Are you going to get out there and fuck some guy tonight?"

I'd asked Brannon out for drinks because I was hoping maybe he knew someone he could set me up with. Sure, he was attractive and I'm pretty sure he'd be a great lay (said the gay virgin), but I didn't think I wanted to jeopardize our friendship with sex (even though I'd imagined what that sex might be like).

"I wanted to ask you," I said, "if you knew some guy who'd be interested in a hook-up." Wow. Just having the words out there was a thrill in itself. "I need someone you can vouch for. I want to mess around and explore this side of myself, but I don't know how far I can go yet. I wouldn't be comfortable with a total stranger."

Brannon took a sip of beer and narrowed his eyes. "I'll fuck you right here."

After I started thinking of myself as bi last year, it became a lot easier to appreciate an attractive man, and Brannon was definitely one of them — and my type. Dark hair, well groomed, fit, intelligent, funny, a sharp dresser, polite — and I could go on.

"I'm flattered," I told him, faking annoyance. Then earnestly, "I don't want to ruin our friendship, dude. What if it got weird?"

"What if I gave you the best orgasm of your life? We couldn't be friends after that?"

"I'm not trying to hurt your feelings," I said, laughing a little. Brannon was pushing back, but I could tell he was understanding. "I told you I'm buying tonight, right?"

"Why do you think I want to get you off?"

"Okay, really," I said, "Do you know someone?"

He made an exaggerated sigh. "Of course I do," he said. "Have I ever told you about my friend Quinn?"

I shook my head.

Brannon said, "He's handsome, clean-cut, keeps himself in good shape, about your height and build, and from what I've heard is a pretty passionate lover." He finished his beer. "I have not had the pleasure, but I hear he's well-endowed. He also just exited a two-year relationship. He might be interested." Brannon held up a finger as if to say, but wait!, and gave a knowing nod. He pulled up something on his phone and then showed me a picture. Yeah, this Quinn was a catch. Attractive, great smile, looked confident but not arrogant, and was wearing a polo shirt in the picture with the collar not popped.

Instantly I felt flushed, and my legs started to tremble. I'd fantasized about a man-on-man encounter and never thought it would happen. Here I was about to ask my friend to make it happen.

My mouth was a little dry when I said, "Could you give him my number?"

Brannon laughed. "You cunt," he said. Then another exaggerated sigh. "Fine."

He composed a text message and read it back: "Interested in taking a gay virgin? I've got a clean bi friend who's looking to fool around. Freshly divorced! Here's his number." He looked up at me. "Good?"

"Great," I said.

"Good," he said. "I'm attaching a photo, too." He sent it and put his phone down. I moved my hand over my phone in my pocket, hoping Quinn would reach out quickly. I was already starting to feel hard just thinking about what it could be like.

"Man," Brannon said, "You must be horny. You look like a cartoon wolf right now."

"Ana and I stopped having sex like six months ago," I said. "Yeah, I'm a bit wound up."

"And THAT must be why you divorced," he said.

I didn't correct him, but I said thanks for the connection with Quinn, regardless of what happened. Brannon and I each ordered another beer, and we talked about his new condo, how he was still enjoying being a bachelor, and work.

Twenty minutes after the message he sent, my phone buzzed.

"Is that him?" Brannon said. He made a show of putting his eyebrows up and down and took a big gulp of beer. "This might be our last drink then, huh?"

The text said, Hi, this is Quinn. Sounds like Brannon made an introduction? A friend of his is a friend of mine. :-)

I smiled at Brannon and wrote a text to Quinn: I'm way out of my league here, but would you like to become even better friends?

I didn't send it yet. I looked up at Brannon, read it back, and asked, "Does he have a favorite drink?"

"I think he's a bourbon guy," Brannon said.

I nodded and added to the end of the text: I've got a bottle of good bourbon. Maybe you'd like to come over and we can get to know each other?

Then I sent it.

"That's a good message," Brannon said. He finished his beer. Looking serious for a second, he reached across the table and put his hand on mine. "I trust Quinn," he said. "Don't worry about asking him to slow down if things don't feel right for you."

I'd fantasized enough times about fucking a man. I was confident I wasn't backing out now. Still, the sentiment was sweet. "Thanks, man," I said.

I paid the bill and got another text. Quinn said, I only live two blocks away. Come over and I'll buzz you in.

I shared it with Brannon.

"Booty call," he said. "Get some."

I thanked him for the connection and we parted ways. He said he had some more nightlife left in him before he headed home, so he stayed at the bar.

On the street, the cool night air was invigorating, like a splash of cold water. My legs were shaky from the anticipation, my cock already semi-hard. A longtime fantasy was maybe about to become reality.

Luckily for me, this part of Tacoma had a good number of bustling businesses. I popped into a dingy corner market, bought the best bourbon they had (which wasn't saying much), and walked to Quinn's building. I buzzed his apartment.

"Hi," I said. "I've got the bourbon."

"You know the password," he said. His voice was warm and strong. You could hear the devilish grin in it. The lobby door beeped and unlocked.

I took the elevator to the fourth floor and knocked softly on his apartment door. He opened it four seconds later. He was wearing a white button-up shirt with a loosened tie, gray suspenders, and charcoal slacks. He gave me a lopsided grin.

"Nice to meet you," he said. "Would you like to come in?"

He held the door open for me and I drifted in, feeling like my feet were moving of their own will. He was even more attractive in person. I gave Quinn the bottle of bourbon.

"This is perfect," he said. "I just finished my last bottle of this stuff the other night."

He took my jacket and led me in. It was a decent size for a downtown apartment and was surprisingly well decorated for a single man's place. He had warm lighting, tasteful art on the walls, and coordinating furniture. Lots of white and light-brown wood with modern cuts. It was clean and tidy, except for a stack of three cardboard boxes near the entrance to the hall.

Quinn saw me looking. "I just moved in recently," he said. "Almost finished unpacking."

"This is a nice place," I said. "I walk by this building at least once a week. I've always wondered what it was like."

Quinn took two short glasses out of his freezer and poured the bourbon straight for us. He handed me one.

"Were you working late?" I asked, gesturing at his clothes. It was after seven now.

"Sort of," he said, smiling again. "I was at a party that work threw. Successful project completion. Then I got that text from Brannon. It's been a good day." He took a sip of his bourbon. His eyes scanned me from top to bottom. I was wearing a pair of professional slacks that I thought made my ass look great, and just a run of the mill button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up. "What was it you were looking for tonight?"

Should I go into detail about all the specific acts I'd been thinking about? Or just tell him I'm exploring? I was nervous, but I reminded myself to play it cool. "A good time and a couple drinks," I said.

He gave me that lopsided grin again. "I think we can manage that."

For the next twenty or so minutes, we just talked. We stood by his kitchen bar counter, sipping the bourbon, getting to know each other. He talked about his relationship that just ended and how he'd made mistakes, and that the loss was a wake-up call. I told him about my divorce and how I felt much the same way.

"Sometimes you outgrow a relationship," he said, "and that's no one's fault. You don't know everything when you're young and getting started, right? But it'd be foolish to keep working on a relationship if you've come to see it's no longer the right fit. You have to let that person go."

I thought of Ana, how I still loved her and how she was a great person, but that our relationship had turned into a square peg trying to fit into a round hole. Ending it was the right choice.

Quinn set his drink down. He stepped toward me, put a hand on the small of my back, and kissed my mouth. His touch was firm, but not forceful. I felt his pelvis push into mine and jumped a little, feeling the bulge in his trousers press against the bulge in mine. My hand that wasn't holding a bourbon came to rest between his shoulder blades.

It took me a few seconds to recover, but then I started kissing back. His stubble tickled my lip, but his lips were like any woman's lips I'd ever kissed: warm, wet, soft. It wasn't long before our slick tongues were pushing against each other, sliding and rubbing. My cock stiffened, and I could feel it pressing against what must have been his considerable package.

He broke the kiss, took my drink, and set it on the counter.

"Would you like to take this to the bedroom?" he said. That half-smile again.

All I could manage was, "Yeah."

He took me down the hall and said, "I'm on the end." We passed another bedroom, dark, with other unpacked boxes. A roommate?

Who cared?

Quinn flipped on the lights in his room. A large bed with ivory-colored bedding stood right in the middle of everything. He led me to it and kissed me again. His hands explored my back, my ass, and the back of my head. I followed suit and cupped both his ass cheeks. They were much firmer than I was expecting.

"Is it all right if I make your first time special?" he said.

Breathlessly, I said, "Yes."

He pushed me back onto the bed. "Take off all your clothes."

I was used to directing the activities in the bedroom, so being commanded to strip was unbelievably hot. I slowly unbuttoned my shirt and my pants, then removed both and let them fall to the floor. I pulled my undershirt over my head, peeled off my socks, and finally slipped out of my boxers. Sliding them over my ass, exposing my bare hole to him, gave me a jolt of insane pleasure. Quinn watched studiously. I sat up on the edge of his bed, making sure I was sitting up straight. I kept my knees apart so he had a full view of my cock, which was standing straight up and throbbing. Tremors of nervous anticipation shook me.

"Incredible," Quinn said. He closed the distance and kissed me on the mouth again, and then I felt his hand around my shaft. He tugged me gently. I stood up to meet him, and he held on.

Standing there completely naked, making out with this gorgeous, fully-clothed man, having my cock pulled — it felt unbelievably good. How did I wait so long to try this?

He broke our kiss and let go of my dick. "Get on the bed," Quinn said, "and show me your ass."

I did as I was told. I knelt on the edge of the bed, my back straight and my feet dangling over the side, and looked at Quinn over my shoulder.

He approached methodically, put his hands on my hips, and we kissed again. Then both his hands rubbed across my chest, my stomach, up my neck. My dick hurt it was so hard. One of his hands wrapped around my hot shaft again.

"Oh my god," I said.

"Is that good?" he said. He bit my earlobe, kissed my neck. The arm that wasn't pumping my cock clutched my chest. He stuck his tongue into my mouth. I moaned.

"You're beautiful," he said, and that's when I realized he had me charmed. I wanted every inch of Quinn, and I wanted him to use me. Anything he asked for, I'd do.

He took his hand off my dick, then wrapped it around my balls and the base of my shaft. All my meat was in his grip, and he squeezed tenderly, kneading me. His other hand stroked the front of me again, all the way up to my chin. He tilted my head back and kissed my throat. My dick ached.

He said, "Bend over. Put your ass up in the air like your ex-wife would've."

I was so aroused. He took his hands off me, slowly, and I leaned forward, coming down on the bed on my elbows, my ass cheeks spreading. I could feel the air of the room on my puckered asshole. I arched my back as best I could to give Quinn the best possible angle.

Ana never displayed herself like this, but I wasn't going to tell Quinn that.

He puts his hands on my hips again and thrust against me. I could feel the soft fabric of his pants and the cold metal of his belt buckle against my ass. He squeezed my hips and held me tightly. I could feel his hard dick in his pants, like the broad side of a sausage pressing against my ass crack.

Quinn pulled away, and before my eyes could focus on what he was doing, I felt his hot lips press against my asshole.

It took my breath away. He was firm but gentle, lapping at it, doing exactly what I'd hoped someone would do to my ass one day. Ana had let me eat her ass a few times during our marriage, but she was never interested in reciprocating.

Then Quinn pushed his tongue in, probing and pressing. I knew it couldn't be deep, but still it felt amazing. He took his hands off my hips, laid an arm across my lower back, and then I felt his other hand return to my cock. I balled up his bedspread in my fists and grunted. "God that's good," I said.

He kept at it for another minute, then broke away and kissed down my taint, across my balls, and began licking the length of my shaft. Lying here like this, all my most sensitive areas exposed to and being teased by him, was like no sexual experience I'd ever had, including when Ana pegged me. Quinn clearly knew his way around.

With his hand that was reaching around, he pushed my cock backwards and took the tip in his mouth. I was already aching from the intensity of my erection; feeling it bend farther and then his mouth taking it was the most pleasurable discomfort I've ever had. He slurped up as many inches as he could with the angle while sliding a finger into my asshole. I really worried I was going to cum right then and there.

As if sensing it, he let me slip out of his mouth, my heavy dick springing forward into his waiting hand. "We can't get you too excited now." He used that hand to keep my cock in place, laid his tongue flat against my shaft, twanged my frenulum like a guitar string, and teased my cock head and the bottom of my slit with his tip. I could've screamed.

He ran his tongue back up my dick, over my balls, and into my asshole.

"I've never had anything this good before," I moaned into his bedspread.

"Just wait," he said. "It gets better."

I was panting. I felt him break away and heard him begin to undress. I couldn't look up yet. Then his hand was on my hip, rolling me over, and this gorgeous man with just a little chest hair and a great, muscular figure was lying down on top of me. We started kissing again. I threw my arms around him, running my fingers over his chiseled back and down to his firm ass. I didn't get to see his dick, but I could feel something hot and stiff rubbing my prick.

I broke away from his kiss. "Let me see it," I said.

Quinn smiled and shifted to his elbow. Finally I could see his dick, this monster pressing against mine. I'm pretty confident in my length and thickness, but Quinn had me beat. He started grinding his cock on mine. I'd experimented with rubbing a lifelike dildo against my cock before, which felt great — but this pleasure was on another planet. His glans kept peeking out of his foreskin and running into my belly.

I'd never sucked a dick before, but I was sure going to suck this one.

"I want to taste it," I said.

Quinn smiled. Without a word, he turned around, brought his knees to my face, and straddled my head. I didn't know what he was doing, but I put my hands on his sides and rubbed, then cupped his ass cheeks and kissed the back of his thighs. Was I about to eat a man's ass? My dick got even harder.

Then Quinn tipped forward. His dick started pressing against my chest and his ass cheeks spread to reveal a perfect, only slightly hairy asshole. He grabbed my dick and put it back in his mouth. Holy shit, I was sixty-nining a man.

I didn't know where to start, but I quickly decided it had to be that beautiful cock. I reached around him and found a grip. My first time touching another man's dick and it was this beautiful rod. I couldn't believe it. I pushed it toward my mouth, opened wide, and drew it in with my tongue.

Filling my mouth with his hot flesh was unbelievable. The supple foreskin, a bead of precum, his slick head. He had to be at least nine inches long. I tried to take as much as I could in and didn't even make it halfway. I put my hands on his ass and tried to suck my way up higher, to even more, but I kept hitting the back of my throat. I didn't think I was going to gag, but my eyes watered.