The Lodger Pt. 01

"Excuse me, Mrs Green," said Roger, a postgraduate researcher at the local university who was renting a room with us, "but is your husband gay?"

"Who, Michael? No, certainly not! Whatever gave you that idea?"

"I'm sorry for asking, Mrs Green. It's just the way he looks at me. I'm bisexual myself, so I don't mind, and I sort of wondered what sort of marriage you had. Sorry, I really shouldn't have said anything. Forget I asked."

I drew myself up to my full height, which was not really impressive, and said as primly as I could manage, despite the shock, "You certainly should not have asked, Mr Barkis. And our marriage is no business of yours. I think it would be best if you looked for somewhere else to stay. We will of course refund your deposit and release you from the contract immediately."

"Of course," he said in a slightly desperate way. "I hope you find another tenant, although I don't quite understand why you do lettings anyway. I wouldn't have thought you needed the money with you both having good jobs. Sorry, I'll go to my room and start looking tomorrow."

"That's best," I said, nearly choking.

"By the way," he added, "it's Dr Barkis."

I went to our bedroom and cried for an hour. Was Michael gay? He was good looking and people had called us the perfect couple when we married. We didn't have sex that often, it was true, but in many ways he was the ideal husband, kissing, cuddling, buying flowers and telling me he loved me. In our young days I really liked how he did not join in with the other boys in ogling and making crude remarks about women. He was a real gentleman. But was he something else? I couldn't really believe it. The media would have you think that everyone either is or should be having sex all the time. I think the truth is more boring, and sex ceases to be such a priority when you are no longer young.

He was smiling and friendly to all. He sometimes put an arm on the shoulder of a man we knew well, but that is normal. He wasn't kissing. Or was he and I didn't know it?

Oh yes, why did we rent rooms, now I thought about it? My parents did, so it was what I grew up with. I got married, Michael moved in, and they went to a bungalow by the sea. I just sort of carried on - it never occurred to me to do anything else. Now I thought about it, it was inconvenient in various ways and we really did not need the extra money. Perhaps I would not look for another tenant, and take the other room off the agency lists. That thought at least made me brighten up a bit.

When he came home, Michael could tell there was something wrong, but it took me quite a while to start the conversation.

"Michael, darling, I had a word with Roger today and asked him to leave. Apparently he's what they call bisexual, and has the idea that you fancy him. Do you?"

He was obviously shocked, but didn't actually say 'no'.

"Well," he finally said. "I think you did the right thing. He should definitely leave. I hope we can find another tenant soon."

"Why?" I asked. "We don't really need the money. Why don't we stop letting and just have the house to ourselves?"

"Yes," he said, "Good idea," not quite as enthusiastically as I thought.

I drew him close to me. "Michael, darling, you know I love you and will stay with you whatever. But is it true? Do you fancy men? Do you fancy Roger? Please tell me, love."

Then it all came out. Yes, truly loved me - madly deeply - but he had gradually developed feelings. He did look at men, and couldn't help thinking about it, but had never so much as kissed one. He also felt guilty that he could not satisfy me sexually, which he really wanted to do. And we both cried.

Finally I said "Thank you for telling me. It's better that we both know. I think you should do something about your feelings, and we'll probably both be happier. But for heaven's sake, you must be safe. I couldn't bear for you to catch some disease."

Eventually we mentioned Roger. Yes he did fancy him, but didn't know that he was bisexual. It was clear that there was an opportunity here under relatively private and safe conditions, so I went and knocked on the door of his room. He let me in, and looked enquiringly.

"Dr Barkis," I said, "I'm sorry that I was so abrupt. It was a bit of a shock. We would both like you to stay, if you still want. And you were right, my husband does fancy you. I think he is bisexual, like you, and I have agreed that he can do something about it. However, a young man like you would obviously not want an old man like him. Is there any possibility you could introduce us to some suitable men, and help us?"

He was surprised, but then he surprised me. "Thank you, Mrs Green. This place really is very convenient to the university, and you've both been good to me, so I would be grateful to stay. But I must tell you, Michael is still very attractive, and I quite fancy him myself. If he wanted to go to bed with me, I wouldn't say no. And please call me Roger."

It was as easy as that. I invited him to join us for dinner the next day.

Dinner was almost funny. Both men were looking unusually well-scrubbed and neatly dressed as if they were having a first dinner with their girlfriend's mother. Or boyfriend's, I suppose. We got to know each other somewhat better. Roger was rather charming, so I could imagine him being attractive to both men and women. (I could fancy him myself.) Michael was really nervous but animated, trying to impress both of us. Roger told us about his research at the university, which sounded impressive, though it was obviously above our heads, and Michael bravely tried to ask intelligent questions, with limited success.

Finally I said, "Right, now we have got to know each other, do you boys want to take it further?" They looked at each other, then nodded very diffidently. "Well," I said. "You have my permission. Here are some condoms. Go and have fun. Roger's room, of course. The marital bed is reserved. Take as long as you want, but Michael, I don't want you staying the night, at least not this time."

Michael went to Roger's room and came back some hours later looking very happy, but with tears in his eyes. He told me I was the most wonderful wife in the world and kept kissing me. We were both kissing and crying. Then I had one question. "Did you practise safe sex?"

"Well," he started, "first Roger..."

I interrupted "I don't want to know the details, thank you. Just tell me. If anyone penetrated anyone else, was it with a condom?"

"Yes," he began, but got no further. "That's all I need to know. Wash yourself and let's go to bed."

An hour or so later, I asked if he was awake and said "Actually, I do want to know, but not too graphic, please. What did you actually do?"

He explained that they had undressed and hugged and how good it had felt to be caressing a man's body. He never knew, but this is what he had been wanting. Then he said "When I held his penis..." and I interrupted "Use the proper words. You weren't thinking 'penis' I'm sure. It was a cock or a dick, or possibly a dong if it was big enough. And don't you dare tell me you were making love. This was supposed to be about your sexual feelings, not love. Or was it?"

"No, no!" he hurriedly replied. "You're right. I do love you, only you. This was something else: nice but just sex. Anyway, when I had his dong in my hand..."

"Ah, so bigger than yours?"

"Well yes, a bit. Anyway, this was the first time I had ever touched another man's cock - actually it was a dong, really, which was good. I can't describe how nice it felt in my hand. Then he got me to mastur - wank him until he spurted, and I was so happy to see it and have caused it. Then he wanked me, which took almost no time. You've done that to me darling, so it was not something new. I started to apologise for coming so quickly, and he said that was fine, it was just to relieve me so I would last longer later."

"So we relaxed and chatted, and stroked each other's bodies. We didn't kiss - it didn't seem right. I think it was quite a long time, actually, but I was actually enjoying a male body for the first time. Then as he was fondling my balls, I began to get hard again, and he said I was nearly ready. He said that as it was my first time, but not his, that I should fuck him, he was used to it."

"I put on a condom and he lubricated me, and also his bumhole. He said that in future I might do that, but not this time. Then he lay down on his back, which surprised me, and said that yes, men often do it face to face. So I did. I fucked him till I came, feeling his cock and balls on my belly. Then I wanked him off, which did not take long. That's what we did."

We both paused, feeling a little exhausted from the story, I think. Then I asked "So will there be a next time?"

"If you agree, I'd like to, and Roger is willing. He said he will teach me to take it up the arse, and I think I'd like to try it."

Phew! So now I knew. "Right," I said. "So that's settled, but here are my conditions. You can have sex with men, but it must be safe, and I'd rather you didn't do it with strangers. I think I should meet your future boyfriends like we did with Roger. For now we will treat him as your boyfriend, but not part of the family. He's not your fiancé. He should eat with us at least sometimes, but what you do, you do in his room. Most of all, you must be honest with me, and if you do think you are in love with another man, you must tell me. I don't know how I'd cope, but you must tell me."

"Meanwhile," I added. "For some reason, my pussy is very wet. Could you possibly finger me?"

He was delighted to comply, and I came, which I had not done for a long time.

So began a new phase in our life. Michael went to Roger's room about three times a week on average, and often fingered me to orgasm (we'd both never been keen on oral sex). Then one day he actually made love to me. Yes, he fucked me, but with love, and came inside me, which was so nice after all this time, it was better than an orgasm for me. I asked what this was about.

"Well," he said, "I haven't stopped loving you or wanting you. I'm not totally gay, though I admit I was enjoying the male sex because it was new and something I always wanted. Now I am getting it, I feel better and can get back to loving you. Also, if I have come a day or two earlier, I last longer than when we were doing it once a fortnight. That was often so quick it didn't seem worth the effort."

Well! We ended up making love at least once a week, while Michael and Roger satisfied each other on a couple of other evenings (though probably more than once). Michael learned to take it up the arse, and said he enjoyed it, though I didn't need any details, and said that I didn't need mine filling, thank you very much. However, I asked him if he felt like a woman when he was fucked. He said oddly enough, no, he felt very male. In fact it was enjoying Roger's maleness that made him appreciate his own. However, he now understood that it could feel nice to be filled, so wanted to give that to me more often.

One day, Roger came to see me. "Mrs Green," he said. (Somehow he never used my first name. I think I am still sort of the mother of his boyfriend.) "I am happy having times with Michael. However, I did tell you that I am bisexual rather than gay, so I do like sex with women. Er..."

"Oh, of course!" I said. "You are welcome to bring girls to your room, and stay the night if they want. Just let us know and Michael will keep out of your way. I'm sorry we didn't think about it. Please don't think you have some obligation. Stop with Michael any time you want. We're grateful for what you have done."

"Well, thank you," he said, "but that isn't quite what I meant. The thing is, you're a very attractive woman, and I do fancy you. Ordinarily I wouldn't think of such a thing, but since we have this other arrangement, it seemed worth asking. Michael says he can hardly object, and would allow anything that pleases you. Of course, you probably won't want to, and I'll find a girl as you suggest."

I was flabbergasted. Not least that this handsome young man (well, he was, but I had ignored the fact before) should actually fancy me! Could it be true, or was he just being polite?

"Don't be ridiculous!" I replied insincerely. "There must be lots of lovely girls at the university. Why would you want me?" Fortunately he was very perceptive.

"I see," he said. "You're not saying no. Yes there are girls, whom I could work on, but you are here and I fancy you. I see you fancy me and Michael would be happy for you to have more sex. Why make it a problem?"

I blustered, but the force of his argument plus my rising lust meant that it was a foregone conclusion. "It's not a ruse to pay less rent?" I finally joked.

"No," he answered. "Michael has already told me I should stop paying rent."

"In that case, I am no longer your landlady, and you should stop calling me Mrs Green. It's Ellen."

So once a week I go to Roger's room where we have safe sex. To be clear, he fucks me, with his big dong. It is bigger than Michael's cock and he is younger and fitter and lasts longer. As pure sex, it is much better. But once a week Michael makes love to me in our own bed. And that is sincere and loving, so the best. I get a couple of orgasms from Michael on other days in other ways, and I am sure he gets plenty of orgasms from Roger. When Roger is away at a conference or holiday, I get more from Michael. It was agreed that when Michael is away (which is very much less often) I can expect Roger to fill the gaps. We are all very happy.

By the way, I no longer rent rooms.