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What happened last night?

A married man wakes up in another man's bed
I closed the door behind me, trying to make as little noise as possible. It clicked shut and I walked away, head spinning, heart pounding and a queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. How on earth had this happened?

Barely two minutes earlier, I had awakened with a start in somebody else’s apartment, in somebody else’s bed. A guy’s bed, with him in it, his arm thrown across my chest. I had leaped out of bed, pushing his arm roughly aside, and was startled to find myself naked. He was naked, too.

My leap from bed apparently hadn’t bothered him, because he rolled away, carrying the blankets with him. I glanced at the sheet where I had been just moments before and saw spots that could only be dried cum.

“Oh, God, no,” I said under my breath.

My clothes. Where were they?

I looked wildly around. At first I couldn’t find them, but then I noticed my underwear hanging on the bedroom doorknob. I grabbed them and pulled them on, my half-hard morning dick slapping against my stomach when they slid past the hips.

I walked out of the bedroom into a hallway. Another pair of underwear and my khakis were on the floor. I picked up the khakis and walked into the living room, a big room with couches and chairs grouped in the middle and windows along one side. The sunlight was streaming in so brightly it hurt my eyes.

A low glass table stood in front of the couches. On it were two empty beer bottles and an ashtray with a roach in it.

In front of one chair lay a pair of jeans, turned almost inside out. My T-shirt and sweater, both turned inside out, lay on the armrest of one couch. My hands shaking, I turned them right side out and put them on.

“What the fuck happened?” I thought. “Where am I? Who is that guy?”

Glancing down at the coffee table I saw a stack of DVD cases. The top one was open and empty; I picked it up and read the title: “Bi-curious in Baja.”

Not much doubt about what happened here, I thought.

I edged back to the bedroom doorway and looked in. The guy, whoever he was, was still asleep, lying on his side with his back to me. The sheet only half-covered him, and I couldn’t help noticing his slim, taut body. I edged around the bed to get a look at him. Even with his face half-buried in the pillow, he was plainly a good-looking guy. Regular features, dark hair and goatee flecked with gray. Under the sheet, stretched taut, I could see the outline of his stiff morning cock.

Try as I might, I couldn’t place him, couldn’t remember seeing him before.

I looked at his left hand. A wedding ring. I looked at my left hand. Yes, my ring was there, too.

“Oh, man,” I thought. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

I went back into the living room. On a chair near the door I found my jacket, went through my pockets looking for keys, wallet, watch. Everything was where it should be -- even, I noticed, the picture of my wife and kids that I always keep in the first open slot in the wallet.

“Fuck, “ I said aloud.

I looked around. I had to think about where I was. It didn’t come to me at first. I realized then how hung over I was. My head ached and I was dying of thirst, but I didn’t dare go into the kitchen for a drink of water. I had to get out of there before the guy woke up.

Once outside, I looked around. I thought I recognized the building, the street, the neighborhood. It was near a bar I like to go to on Friday nights when my wife takes the kid’s to her mothers, which happens about once a month.

The bar. That started to bring it back, my memory.

My wife and kids had left about 5 for the two-hour drive to her mother’s. I had eaten some leftovers about 7 and gone to the bar about 8, heading for my usual corner booth. I read a magazine, half-watched the Cubs game and sipped on my beer. I probably looked lonelier than I was; I just like being by myself sometimes and in that place they always respect my wishes. What had happened there last night I still couldn’t recall.

Outside the bar I found my car, got in and drove home. My thoughts were jumbled; I felt guilty and disgusted with myself, and wondered how I would face my wife when she got home. I had never cheated on her before, not with a woman and certainly not with a man, and I couldn’t figure out why I had done it this time. Especially this time.

When I got home I drank three glasses of water and put on some coffee. When it was ready I poured a big cup and sat down at the table to think.

Tim, it came to me. His name is Tim. No, Tom.

Once I had that the rest of it started to come back. How Tom had glanced at me as he walked by my booth on his way to the bathroom. How he had stopped on the way back to make some comment about the game. Turned out we were both Cubs fans, and after a couple of minutes’ chat he asked if he could sit down. Sure, I said.

We got to talking, ordered a couple more beers, and a couple more after that. Turned out he was getting a divorce after being married nearly 15 years; he and his wife didn’t have major problems, he had said, they had just gotten tired of each other. He had two girls, young teens who weren’t taking the divorce too well. I told him my story; married about 10 years, still pretty happy on the whole, boys 8 and 6.

We talked about everything; family, work, a little politics, a lot about our hobbies and outside interests. Next thing we knew it was closing time, and he asked if I’d like to come back to his place for a nightcap.
“It just a couple blocks’ walk,” he said. “You won’t have to drive.”

I couldn’t remember anything about the walk to his place, or whether I gave any thought to how I’d get home afterward. But I did remember we got to talking about sex almost as soon as we sat down.

He said his sex life had been pretty white-bread: regular but mostly missionary-position sex with a couple of steady girlfriends in high-school and college, and something not much more adventurous with his wife. She loved fucking, he said, but wasn’t much for oral sex, getting or giving, and wouldn’t dream of having sex anywhere but in a bed.

“I’ve never come in a girl’s mouth,” he said sadly.

I told him about my sex life, which had been somewhat more exciting, involving one threesome and much fucking on beaches and other semi-public places. I was almost proud when I told him my wife loved to suck and swallow.

That statement was followed, I remembered, by a long heavy silence.

“I’ve got some porn DVDs,” he had finally said. “Want to watch one?”

“Yeah, sure,” I said.

He handed me a joint and a lighter, and went over to open a cabinet. He reached down to a lower shelf of DVDs and came back with half a dozen.

“You pick,” he said.

I glanced through them: all pretty run-of-the-mill until the last one, the bi-curious one. The cover showed a gringo couple, wrapped only in towels, being served drinks by a hunky Mexican kid in a Speedo.

“What’s this?” I said teasingly.

He blushed.

“Oh, well, um....” he said, shrugging.

I don’t know what made me do it, but I said, “Let’s watch it then.”

(Yes, I do know what made me do it.

While telling him my sex-life story I had omitted details of the single threesome experience, an unforgettable encounter with my college roommate and his girlfriend.

One night when they were going to a party they invited me along, and we had come back three hours later thoroughly stoned. As soon as we had closed the door they started making out, and when I started to leave the girl said, “No, stay.”

I looked at my roommate, who just shrugged. I looked at his girl, who I had always lusted after, and said, “I guess I will.”

While they undressed each other I undressed myself. When we were all naked we stood there for a second, just looking. She was beautiful -- nice round tits, perfectly shaped hips, neatly trimmed pubes.

I liked looking at him, too. Though I had seem him naked before it was only fleetingly, and he had always tried to keep his privates private. Now I wondered why, because he had a big thick cock that most guys would have envied, and it was rapidly getting hard. He was looking at me, too -- my dick wasn’t as big as his, but I have nice low-hanging balls I was always kind of proud of. His girlfriend noticed we were checking each other out.

She took us both by the hand and led us to the bed, where we spent the next 20 minutes in a complete sexual frenzy. At one point she lay between us with her legs open, me stroking her clit and my roommate sucking on her nipples while she stroked both our cocks.

“Jack each other,” she said.

I hesitated, and my roommate did, too. The girl finally took my roommate’s hand and put it on my cock, and then put my hand on his. We stroked each other tentatively, and then more vigorously. That was the first time I had had my hand on another guy’s cock, or any guy had had his hand on mine, and both felt wonderful. Meanwhile she rubbed herself, and before long all three of us were breathing heavily.

The girl pushed our hands away from each other and said to me, “Put it in.”

I glanced over at my roommate, who just smiled, so I moved between her legs, spread them wide and stuck it in. She was so dripping wet that I slid in easily.

I started pumping my rod in and out, which she clearly enjoyed. Meanwhile my roommate had moved so that his dick was near her mouth. She turned to the side and took him in.
It was the maddest, wildest scene I had ever been in, and I was totally in the moment. I lowered myself so that her hard purplish nipples brushed against my chest, and as I did so she wrapped her legs around my torso. I felt a hand caressing my balls; it was not hers but my roommate’s.

My face was now inches from hers, and of course just inches from his cock. Next thing I knew he slipped his cock out of her mouth and into mine. I didn’t fight, didn’t resist, I just went with it. I realized it had become inevitable the moment we had all gotten undressed.
Still fucking her hard, I sucked him greedily while she licked his balls. At one point she slipped a finger into his ass and I felt him swell in my mouth.

By now the girl and I were both ready to come. As we neared the peak he pulled out of my mouth and started stroking himself. We all came at once; I with a shuddering groan and what I knew without seeing was an enormous cum; she with a moan and convulsive jerking of her legs that plunged me still deeper into her, and he with a gasp and rapid blasts of cum that hit both me and her in the face.

All this flashed through my mind as Tom put the DVD in -- mostly the sucking part.)

The next day, sitting at my kitchen table, what I recalled was not this brief moment reliving the past but the twinge I felt in my dick when I first saw the DVD cover, and the rapid stiffening when the first scenes came on. It was a lame setup designed only to get everyone naked as quickly as possible, but it had the desired effect.

When I had looked at Tom -- we were sitting on opposite sites of the coffee table -- he was trying, as inconspicuously as possible, to rub his cock through his pants. I felt my dick stiffen again, and I couldn’t help reaching in to adjust it to a more comfortable position.

Now the Mexican guy was sucking the gringo guy while the girl sucked him. Tom was openly rubbing himself now, as was I. The sexual tension in the room was so thick you could swim in it. I looked again at Tom; he was squirming in his seat, his face flushed. He turned to meet my look, and something passed between us.

I don't know what came over me, but I got up, went over to him and knelt in front of his chair. Pushing his hands away from the front of his jeans, I undid the buckle and lowered the zipper. He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling, and the flush on his face was deepening.

With the zipper all the way down I started lowering his jeans. He lifted his hips to make it easier, and I peeled them off. (This is why I found them inside-out the next morning, right where I’d dropped them.) The front of his underwear showed a wet spot the size of a half-dollar.

I buried my face in his crotch, dragging my lips along the length of his cloth-covered rod, tasting a hint of the pre-cum that had soaked through. He let out a moan and pushed his cock harder against me.

I reached up and practically tore off his underwear. His cock sprang upward, steel-hard, and I lowered my mouth onto it. I was rewarded with another groan and a thrust that nearly choked me.

I put my hands on his thighs to hold him down and started slowly moving up and down the shaft. He was wild with excitement, and so was I. Without releasing his cock I reached down, undid my own belt and lowered the zipper so I could reach for my throbbing dick.
I placed the other hand on his cock and started slowly pumping him while at the same time licking the head and making quick sucking motions on it. He was writhing under me, his orgasm clearly starting to build.

But before things went too far he pushed me away, stood up, yanked me to a stand and tore off first his shirt, then mine. He pinched my nipples -- something I had always loved when my wife did it -- then took hold of the waistband of my pants. He was now naked except for his socks, his cock doing a 21-gun salute; as he dragged me toward the bedroom I somehow got out of my pants.

He threw aside the bed covers and jumped in. Stopping to take off my underwear, I looked at him -- a gorgeous body, a beautiful cock, an urgent, hungry look on his face.

I walked over to the bed, bent over him. As I reached for his cock I bent down and kissed him -- surprising myself as much as I did him. But he kissed me back passionately, and taking hold of my cock pulled me on top of him.

We kissed deeply, our tongues battling wildly, our cocks grinding together. I have never produced much precum, but it was pouring from his dick and our dicks slid easily against each other.

I was already near coming from sheer excitement. To keep that from happening I broke the kiss, pushed myself up with my arms and started working my way down his body with my lips.

First I kissed him on the neck, then moved down to his nipples, licking and gently biting them. Then I moved down his chest and stomach, kissing and licking. He writhed under me, grinding his cock against my stomach and chest, smearing me with his precum.

At last I came to his dick. I opened my mouth and took it in whole. He immediately started thrusting. I let him do it, opening my throat as much as I could manage.

I knew he desperately wanted to come in my mouth, and I decided I would let him. As his thrusting became more rhythmic I reached up with a hand and tugged at his balls. In mere seconds, it seemed, he went into the final throes of his orgasm.

Practically sobbing with lust, he fucked my mouth from below. At last I felt his balls contract, his cock swell, and with a final groan he came. Jet after jet of cum shot in my mouth; it was as if he hadn’t come in weeks. I let his cum fill me, coat my tongue, dribble through my lips. Without letting go of his dick I swallowed.

I would have kept sucking him, but he pushed me off, threw me on my back and dived for my cock. He was so eager that I had to tell him to ease off a bit; once he did, I thought I might die of excitement. So far as I knew this was the first blow job Tom ever gave, but I doubt anyone ever got the hang of it so fast.

Up and down he went, stroking my balls, swirling his tongue around the head and tip. He stopped just once to lick me -- from the backside of my balls, around to the front and slowly, agonizingly slowly, up the shaft to the tip of my dick, when he took me in again. Having been close to cumming before he even touched me, I couldn’t hold out long. With a roar of ecstasy I finally blasted, once, twice, three, four, five shots, every one deep into this throat.

When the orgasm subsided Tom finally released me and flopped down next to me.

“Wow,” we said at the same time, and both burst out laughing.

It was this moment I recalled most vividly the next day, sitting at the table with my now-cold cup of coffee.

I spent the next hour in a sort of mental agony. Breaking my marriage vows with a woman would have been bad enough, but breaking them with a man was even worse. I couldn’t put this encounter down as a sort of accidental add-on to straight sex. No, this was just plain gay.

What’s more, I had done nothing to resist it. In fact, I finally admitted to myself, I had sought it out. I had known when Tom and I left the bar what might happen, what I would try to make happen if he gave me half a chance. And I was pretty sure he would, too; there was something flirtatious in the way he first talked to me, and there certainly was in the way I responded to it.

God, I thought, did the people at the bar think I had let myself be picked up? Probably they did, because that’s exactly what happened.

After that night in college, I had spent a good many hours fretting about whether I was really gay. In those days people were a lot less accepting of gays than they are now, and like most guys I had insisted I was a staunch straight; my obvious enjoyment of sucking my roommate’s cock was a source of shame and disgust. I think we both felt that way, because for several days afterward we spoke little and rarely looked each other in the eye.

The memory of that night, however, would simply not go away. Many times while jacking off my fantasies drifted from big tits and welcoming pussies to throbbing cocks and the feel of a dick in my mouth. The more I tried to suppress those images the more vivid and persistent they got. I must have spilled buckets of cum fantasizing about it, however reluctantly.

And while the years had somewhat dimmed the intensity of that one memory, and I had had nothing but straight sex ever since, I had never forgotten it entirely.

So now, many years later, I was back in the same boat: wondering what a night of sex with a guy made me. Did two dicks sucked in 15 years make me gay? Bi? Straight with a chaser?

My cell rang. God, I said, don’t let it be my wife.

It wasn’t.

Dan?” the voice said. “It’s Tom.”

For a second I couldn’t answer.

“Dan, you there?”

“Hi,” I said.

“You don’t sound glad to hear from me.”

“Not sure I am,” I said.

“Didn’t you enjoy yourself?”

“What I can remember, I guess I did.”

“Well, I sure as hell enjoyed it,” he said.

“How’d you get my number?”

“You don’t remember giving it to me?”

“I don’t, but I’ve had a hard remembering a lot of what happened last night.”

“Why did you sneak off like that?”

“Well,” I said. “It’s complicated.”

“I get that,” he said. “For me, too. But the hell with complications. I want you to come over again tonight.”

For a minute I didn’t say anything.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Not sure it’s a good idea.”

“There are a lot of good reasons not to,” he said. “But there’s one great reason to do it anyway: We both wanted it and we both enjoyed the hell out of it.”

“I don’t know,” I said again. “I guess I’ll have to think about it.”

“You do that,” he said. “But at 8:00, I’ll be in bed waiting for you. The front door will be unlocked.”

He hung up.

I looked at the clock. Two p.m. I lay down in a sunny spot on the couch and went to sleep.

At 8:03 I was standing outside his place with my hand on the doorknob. Taking a deep breath, I opened it and went in.

“Hey,” I called.

“In here, like I said,” Tom called back.

I went to the bedroom door. He lay in the bed, naked. I couldn’t help but admire his body; the slim hips, the nice tone of the muscles in his legs and arms, the smooth skin except for the light trail of hair that led down his stomach to his pubes. He looked at me from under half-closed eyelids, his cock already starting to stiffen.

“Take off those clothes and come here,” he said.

I hesitated, then started undressing. When I was naked Tom said, “God, you are beautiful.”

I had never thought so, but it was nice to hear him say it anyway.

I walked over to the bed. Tom reached for my cock, grasped it gently and pulled me into bed next to him. At this moment the dam burst; I admitted to myself how desperately I wanted him. I took his head in my hands and kissed him, gently at first and then more passionately. Our hands roamed each other’s bodies, our cocks pressed together. We thrashed on the bed, kicking aside the sheets and pillows and banging elbows against the headboard.

Tom broke the kiss, sat up partway and opened a drawer in the nightstand. He reached in, came out with a tube of lube.

“I use this for jacking off sometimes,” he said.

I must have looked doubtful.

“We don’t need a condom, do we?” he asked. “There’s no chance of pickup up bugs, is there?”

“No,” I said. “But I don’t know anything about doing this.”

“Neither do I,” he said, opening the tube and squeezing a generous gob onto my cock. “But let’s try it anyway.”

He spread the lube over my cock, which damn near sent me over the edge by itself, and then opened his legs and smeared some around his hole. He got on all fours and spread his legs slightly.

“Ok,” he said. “Let’s go.”
Partly to give my cock a rest, I decided to start with a finger. I pressed gently against his hole, which made his cock jump, and circled it once or twice. Tom purred. I pushed the tip of the finger in, which caused him to wince, but he quickly relaxed and I was able to push the finger in further.

His breathing became more ragged, but he stood it, so I started slowly moving the finger in and out. He responded by pushing back against my hand, which I took as a good sign. I pressed a second finger against the hole, slipped it in and extended it alongside the first.

Tom’s moan was about halfway between pleasure and pain, but soon he relaxed again and once against pushed back. I got a real rhythm going now, and I could see his cock had gotten ramrod-straight.

Now or never, I thought. I withdrew the fingers, drawing another moan from Tom, put another gob of lube on my still-hard cock and put the tip of it against his hole. With one long, slow, careful motion I slid it in, stopping about halfway.

Tom gasped, mostly in pain, so I stopped to let him adjust. After hald a minute he was able to relax again, and I pushed in the rest of the way. This time his cry was more of pleasure than pain, so I started moving in and out as gently as I could.

He moaned again, but pushed back once more, so I picked up the rhythm. By now my own cock had swollen to it maximum size, and his ass felt tight around it -- much tighter than my wife’s cunt.

At some point I must have started brushing against his prostate, because he started making a sound almost like whimpering and muttering something that sounded like, “Fuck me.” I picked up the pace, thrusting steadily but still trying not to hurt him. At first my low-hangers slapped against him, but soon I felt them starting to contract.

“Oh, man, oh, oh, oh,” he said, louder now.

“I’m gonna cum,” I said.

“Shoot,” he almost shouted. “Shoot!”

I plunged in now as deeply as I could go, and felt his own contractions pass like a wave along my cock. I reached around with my hand, took hold of his cock and pumped it with long, smooth strokes.

As I came, in five or six long bursts, he came, too, a huge gush of cum that coated my hand and dribbled through my fingers. I let go of him and brought my hand to my mouth, sucking his cum off my fingers as the last throes of my own orgasm died away inside him.

“Oh, God,” he said. “Jesus God in heaven.”

I gently rolled us both onto our sides, my dick still up his ass. We lay there spooning for a good 10 minutes without speaking.
“Well,” he finally said. “That was pretty fucking amazing.”
After a minute I said, “Now what?”

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