Theo’s cock was my second. It was, for lack of a better descriptor, a really manly cock—straight, girthy, uncircumcised, smelling of musk. It was about six inches long, and chunky. It knew its business and knew what it wanted, and what it wanted was to fuck my tender ass mercilessly. Of all the cocks I’ve had, it’s the one I regret the most and the one I most frequently call to mind when I masturbate. Or, more plainly: the sex was spectacular, but the circumstances… well, problematic.

I’m pretty sure it was Jane Austen who said that it’s a truth universally acknowledged that the more men you have sex with, the more inevitable it is that one or more of them will be married. At least, I’m pretty sure that was her. For me, I didn’t have to get that far in my sexual career before it happened to me. Number two: Theo, who was in his mid-thirties, broad-shouldered, perennially unshaven, with stern grey eyes and a roguish grin, a wife and two kids, and a predilection for college-age dick. As my university’s swim coach, he was like a glutton at a buffet.

Or he could have been. I don’t want to make him out to be a villain. Well, not too much, anyway… he wasn’t a predator, wasn’t abusive or coercive, never was inappropriate in ways that weren’t consensual. By that I mean our relationship was all kinds of inappropriate, but I was an enthusiastic participant.

Let me back up. I started university coming off my first queer experience that prior summer. My best friend and I had come together while backpacking through Europe. It was intense, confusing, passionate, amazing. When we got home, however, he acted like nothing had happened. It was very “what happened in Europe stays in Europe,” which would have been fine if I’d had a say in the matter. But I didn’t, and then we were both off to different universities in different parts of the country. I fell into freshman year with all its welter of new experiences, still confused enough about my summer experience to shy away from exploring that side of myself. Instead, I availed myself of the many girls who were themselves diving into this new life. I was cute, and fit, and I was on the swim team—just an alternate, yes, but still that had cachet. I had a lot of sex, but it was only about midway through that first year that my desire for cock, dormant for a few frenetic months, started to make itself known again.

As you might expect, being on the swim team helped surface it (so to speak). It was hard not to look around at all those beautiful male bodies, and sneak glances at all the showering cocks, without wondering if any of my teammates shared my predilections. This was still in the days when there was a certain amount of stigma to being LGBT, even on a university campus, so I didn’t feel all that free to drop hints. Also, I was still very, very inexperienced. My romance abroad with my best friend was about the best introduction to things I could have had, but it didn’t do much to guide me through this unmapped territory. I’m sure I had one or two teammates at least who’d have been keen to experiment—or better yet, show me the ropes—but that early on, I was blind to the signs.

Fortunately or unfortunately, Coach Theo saw clearly enough. He watched me covertly through those first few months. He didn’t treat me any differently than anyone else, but it was obvious he liked me. He always had an encouraging word and a clap on the shoulder. I was a middling swimmer at best, but I liked being on the team and I liked my teammates. And I liked Theo.

As the year wore on and my queer desires stirred again, I started to see Theo in a new light. He was tall, as tall as me, but broader and well-muscled. He swam with us sometimes, and everyone was in awe of his physique. Especially his legs: he had beautifully muscled thighs, and a tight ass that stretched his suit taut. And from the looks of it, he sported an impressive package. “Coach Theo’s wife is a lucky woman,” was a frequently-made observation.

Some time around Christmas break I entertained my first fantasy about Theo, jerking off to the thought of freeing his hard cock from his swimsuit. The fantasy developed from there to sucking him off, then to what it would be like to have him fuck me.

I’d learn in early February.

There wasn’t much subtlety in his seduction, if you can even call it that. Perhaps he knew I’d been on a low boil for him for almost two months, or perhaps he just took his shot. It happened in his office. I’d lingered after an evening practice, taking my time while everyone else packed up and left. I didn’t have any specific intention when I went to his office to ask if he needed anything.

“Just one thing,” he said, and closed the door. He grabbed me and kissed me.

I sensed a bit of hesitance, as if ready for me to shove him away. He needn’t have worried. I kissed him back, hard and clumsily. Before I knew what was happening, I was sitting on his desk, my track pants and underwear down around my knees and my desperately hard cock in his mouth. He swallowed me whole, then slowly slid his lips up and down my shaft, his tongue squirming against the underside. I’m ashamed to say I came almost right away, crying out in ecstasy, but then mortified. I apologized for coming so quickly, but he just grinned at me, smacking his lips.

“Don’t apologize,” he said. “That was perfect. You have no idea how much I’ve been wanting to do that.”

I have some idea, I thought, suddenly awkward. Before I could say or do anything, he said, “You have anywhere you need to be?”

I shook my head.

“Excellent. Come with me.”

I pulled up my pants and followed him out of his office, down to the parking lot outside the sports facility. It was winter and dark; there was nobody around. He led me to his car, and we drove for about ten minutes to a quiet neighbourhood. He pulled up to a small apartment complex.

“My home away from home,” he said, letting me into a small but comfortably furnished one-bedroom apartment. The living room area was set up like an office, but he took me by the hand through to the bedroom. A queen-sized bed dominated the small room.

I suppose the fact that he had an apartment separate from his home should have been a warning sign, but I was too deliriously excited that first night to think much about it. As the weeks went on, his mode of operation became clear: this was both a place to get away from the wife and kids when he needed a quiet place to work, or when he had an affair on the go. When I asked him about it, he said that he only stepped out on his wife with men; she had a similar arrangement with women, though that might have been a lie. I was the first student he'd ever slept with, he claimed, and I was one hundred percent certain that was a lie. But for the duration of our time together, I didn’t much care. I just desired his cock with a singlemindedness that bordered on addiction.

That first night, he brought me into the bedroom and started undressing. I watched, mesmerized, as he stripped off his sweater and shirt, then his pants, until he stood naked but for a pair of blue briefs. He was beautiful, and he knew it. He gestured at me, indicating I should follow his lead. Every limb trembling, my cock again rock hard, I shed my clothes as fast as I could until I stood in front of him in just my boxer-briefs.

He ran his eyes over me hungrily. “What would you like to do?” he asked.

Jesus fuck, what didn’t I want to do? “What do you want to do?” I countered lamely, my voice a croak.

He chuckled and stepped close to me. “I would like for you to kiss my cock through my underwear,” he hissed in my ear as his hands roved from my shoulders, down my back, coming to rest on my ass. He gave it an appreciative squeeze. “Then I want you to peel them off and make love to my thick cock with those gorgeous lips of yours. I want you to suck me. Then I want to eat your tender hole until you beg me to fuck you. Does that sound good to you?”

“Ohfuckyes,” I gasped.

He kissed me, placing his hands on my shoulders. After a moment, gentle but firm pressure guided me down to my knees until I was eye-level with the bulge in his briefs. My breath came in shuddering gasps as I leaned forward and pressed my lips to the fabric. His cock, tantalizingly hidden, radiated heat through his underwear. I felt it twitch under my lips and a jolt like electricity ran through me. I mouthed my way around the outline of his cock, which slowly unfurled in its nest until it was clearly outlined. I kissed its length, nudging it from its angled repose until it stood vertically and the head peaked out above the waistband. Almost nauseous with desire, I kissed the exposed bit, evoking a growl from Theo.

I didn’t know how long he expected me to continue teasing through fabric, and suddenly I didn’t care. This was as torturous for me as for him—more, probably, and he almost certainly knew it. Like an unscrupulous drug dealer, he knew how to get me hooked on his product. I slowly peeled down his underwear, my breath catching in my throat as his cock was revealed. Pausing with the waistband just halfway down, I nuzzled the thick shaft, tasting the salt on the tender skin and inhaling its aroma. Theo growled again, resting his hands on my head. “That’s it,” he crooned. “Like that.”

He'd instructed me to make love to his cock. I would have done that anyway. I had flashes of my summer trip with Max, the first tentative fumblings in a hostel at night, the first time I’d touched a cock other than my own and discovered how much I loved it. Max had been just as tentative, and though we’d grown more confident in giving each other pleasure, I was still new to this, and terribly and excitedly aware that Theo was not. Here was a real man, who smelled like a man, and though he was gentle with me it was obvious he was in control here.

That feeling, of being in confident and commanding hands, was more of a turn-on than I ever could have anticipated.

I continued to nuzzle his cock, my tongue and lips following behind the waistband as I slid it down his shaft. Theo continued to growl and murmur as I freed his cock entirely, pulling his underwear down his legs. I lapped at the base of the shaft like a puppy, cradling his hefty balls in my hand. I licked and kissed up and down his cock, my eyes nearly crossing. After—how long? I have no idea—Theo raised me to my feet and guided me onto the bed. He lay back and said, “Suck me.”

His cock was shorter than Max’s, but much thicker. It was my introduction to the jaw ache that came from going down on beer can cocks, but I was so in the thrall of the moment that I didn’t notice until the next day. I gamely stretched my mouth around it, taking as much as I could. In the weeks to come I would get better at accommodating his cock; I honed my technique, never quite getting to the point of deepthroating him, but I became quite expert in getting him off with my mouth in the numerous impromptu suck sessions we had in addition to our regular fucks in his apartment—in his office, in an equipment closet, in his car, and once, I’m ashamed to say (yet still massively turned on by the memory) in the bathroom at his house when he hosted a team pizza party, his wife and kids downstairs. Navigating that beautiful but awkwardly thick cock helped make me the accomplished cocksucker I am today.

And in case you’re concerned he was just using me for my mouth and ass, he always reciprocated enthusiastically. He wasn’t one of those asshole men who want to dominate, happy to fuck or get sucked but refusing to do anything for or to you. No, Theo was just as hungry for my cock as I was for his, and while he was hardly a bottom, the spirit did move him a few times to let me fuck him (that should be a whole story in itself—that ass!).

Anyway, that first encounter wasn’t what I would call my best work, but Theo didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he seemed really into my ministrations, moaning and growling and muttering filthy encouragements. I sucked as best I could, then licked and kissed all over the shaft, stroking him with both hands. His cock was an amazing, living thing in my grasp, rock hardness sheathed in velvet skin, throbbing and twitching and leaking copiously.

I don’t know how long I sucked him—time lost meaning—but I would have gone on forever had he not reached down and, grasping me under my shoulders, picked me up and threw me on the bed like a ragdoll. I wouldn’t have thought I could be more turned on, but his easy strength sent me to another level. Wordlessly, he stripped my underwear off, exposing my eager, painfully hard cock. He smiled to see it, his eyes hungry, and gave it a few quick sucks that nearly made me cum again before pushing my legs back to expose my hole.

He nuzzled my balls, licking and suckling the tender skin there, feathering his tongue over my taint, before finally moving on to tease my sensitive hole with the tip of his tongue.

The first time someone eats you out is a delirious experience, in part because—if you’re like me—it doesn’t seem like something that would happen until it does. This was Theo in a nutshell: not a dominant top in the sense that he was always into giving me pleasure; always obviously hungry for my cock and ass; but also dominant in that he knew precisely what he was doing, precisely how helpless with pleasure it made me, and determined that he would make me beg for him to fuck me. Which I did, repeatedly. His tongue was divine, but after a few minutes all I could think was how much I wanted, needed, his cock to take its place.

In my more reflective moments, I thought with certainty that he was probably also a master of cunnilingus. I don’t know that I’d call his wife a lucky woman overall, but certainly, she won the lottery for those moments.

“Fuck me, please, fuck me,” I whimpered, and finally he emerged to lay atop me, his muscled bulk thrilling to feel, and he whispered in my ear, “Say it again.”

“Fuck me. Please.”

I felt him smear lube over my hole, then there was the pressure of his cock.

“Breathe,” he murmured, pressing my legs apart. “Have you taken a cock before?”

“Yes,” I whimpered back.

“Good.” He pressed, guiding himself with his hand, and I felt my sphincter spread painfully. I hissed. He paused. Then again, another pause, and another press, until he slowly worked his way in. I clutched his shoulders, biting the sweat-slick skin there, whimpering in that amalgam of pain and desire and slowly unfurling pleasure. It would never not hurt at first, but I got better at taking him. Even that first time, however, it was a sensation like nothing else, the pain always present but subsumed by the delicious sensations of his cock’s slow back and forth.

“You OK?” he murmured.

I took his face in my hands and kissed him. “Fuck me,” I hissed.

He increased his tempo. I cried out, urging him to go faster. I heard myself saying stuff I’d never imagined would come from my mouth. Fuck me. Fuck me hard. Fuck me sweet ass with your massive cock. Fuck fuck fuck your cock feels so fucking good fuck me holy shit yes fuck my ass you’re so fucking hard cum in my ass I want to feel you cum.

That was when I learned the effect dirty talk can have on even the most in-control man when his cock is deep inside you and his own pleasure imperative takes over. He fucked me, faster, then slower, teasing me, knowing what he was doing to me, but as my torrent of verbal desire spilled over him I could feel him trembling, could feel him feel his imminent orgasm, as his growls became moans and his moans became whimpers.

I had been rock-hard through all this, and it suddenly occurred to me that I could do something about that. I grasped my cock and started stroking myself.

“Oh god,” I cried after a minute. “Oh fuck, I’m going to cum.”

“Yes!” he hissed. “Cum for me.” He looked down at my cock just as I cried out and my cock exploded, spraying up over my belly and his.

“Oh, fuck that’s hot,” he gasped, and I felt his cock swell somehow even larger inside me. He tensed up, his body going rigid, and I felt his orgasm deep inside me. He collapsed on top of me and we lay like that for a long while, catching our breath.

“Well,” he murmured in my ear, “that was amazing.”

I said nothing. I had no words.

Eventually we got up. We showered, during which he sank to his knees and sucked me off once more. We dried off and dressed, and he drove me back to campus. It wasn’t awkward afterward, exactly… but after the intensity of the sex, reality was unwelcome.

“So was that a one-off?” I asked as we drove back. “Or can we do that again?”

He grinned at me. “That’s up to you,” he said. “I am always game. You do know you can’t tell anyone about this, right?”

As if I would, I thought. But I agreed, and that was when he told me about his apparent extracurricular arrangement with his wife. I couldn’t let on to her, either, he said—part of the deal was that she didn’t want to know, and he didn’t want to know about her affairs.

Even in that moment when I most wanted to believe it, it had the ring of bullshit; it sounded too ideal. From my perspective now later in life, I’m even more convinced. I’ve been in exclusively open relationships all my life, and though I never been polyamorous as such, I’ve had partners who are, and the one thing I’ve learned is that that only works if everyone’s honest.

But in that moment I didn’t much care—I only wanted to know when next I’d get to suck and get fucked by his man’s cock. As it happened, it was just a few days later. We had an awful lot of sex over the following weeks. Though I’ve had a lot of amazing sex in my life, those weeks with Theo were among the most thrilling and delirious of it all. As I said, his is the cock I most often use as a masturbatory prompt.

There was some collateral damage… my innocence, I suppose, but that was doomed no matter what. My swim career—I quit the team after a week, realizing very quickly that I was not good at being in the same space as Theo unless there was sex about to happen. I’m fortunate I was not that great; if I’d been a star swimmer, I’d have thrown that away for a married man, and that would have been tragic.

It ended as these things usually do, when the secrecy lost its allure and I grew tired of being a side-piece, and my elastic ethics snapped back as I felt more and more guilt. I’d never deluded myself into thinking he’d leave his wife. I would never have wanted that. But it’s poisonous to be with someone you know is actively deceiving the people who are ostensibly the center of his life.

Still, I never bore him any rancour. Not much, anyway. Swimming was really my only sport, and he didn’t use the campus gym, so I rarely saw him around campus. But when I did, he’d tip me a wink and a roguish grin and I’d feel my stomach drop and my traitorous cock would harden in spite of myself.

As indeed it does now as I write this.