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How my girlfriend turned me gay, Part 2

Taking up where we left off in Part 1
The minutes passed. Steve and I lay there on our backs, our breathing slowly getting back to normal. I slowly stroked his thigh with the back of my hand, just trying to keep contact with his warm skin.

“It’s been a long time since I had sex that intense,” I said. “In fact I can’t remember EVER having sex that intense.”

“Me either,” he said. “I thought I would never stop coming.”

He lifted his head enough to look at our bodies, where the cum was starting to dry. He turned on his right side, put his left hand on my chest and started gently stroking my nipples. HIs hand moved down to my stomach, and he slowly traced the thin trail of hair that led to my pubes.

“You have a nice body,” he said.

“Too soft in the middle,” I said. “You’re in much better shape.”

“Not really,” he said, propping himself up on his elbow. “Anyway I like the way you look.”

It was said so matter-of-factly I turned to look directly at him. We looked at each other for a long minute, saying nothing.

“So what just happened?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” he said, smiling, “but I sure liked it.”

“So did I,” I said, smiling back at him.

“We are a mess,” he said after a pause. “There’s cum all over us both.”

I laughed, and he bent down to kiss me again. It wasn’t so much a passionate kiss as a … what? … a loving one?

It was getting cool. I suggested we climb down to the cove, take a quick swim and go back to my place to warm up. He stood up without answering and started walking down the trail. I followed. When he came to his shoes he put them on, but he didn’t bother putting on his clothes, and so I didn’t either. I watched the muscles in his legs working as he picked his way downward, and found myself admiring his broad shoulders and arms that showed muscles without being ropy. He didn’t have a lot of body hair, but there were a few dark hairs at the top of his butt crack, which I thought oddly attractive.

He turned around once during the climb down to look at me, and I got a good long look at his front: well-defined pecs, a flat stomach, though no washboard, strong quads like a cyclist’s. He had little chest chair -- just a few strays around the nipples. His pubes were a little darker than the blond thatch on his head, not too thick or curly, possibly trimmed. His dick hung limp, thicker than mine but a bit shorter as I said and a little darker in color, with low-hanging balls like mine. I thought he looked beautiful, and said so.

“I was about to say the same about you,” he said.

We reached the cove a few minutes later. Steve walked directly to the waterline, kicked off his shoes again and splashed his way in. He dove under, came up with a whoop that echoed off the rocks, and swam to a shallow place, where he stood up, the water streaming from his skin, his nipples hard and his dick shrunken with the cold. I ran in after him, swam underwater to the shallows, where I grabbed one of his legs and knocked him off balance. He grabbed me around the waist as he fell, and we wrestled briefly as we fought to regain our footing.

“What happened to that big dick of yours?” he said when we finally stopped struggling, pointing at the withered little man between my legs.

“What happened to yours?” I retorted, not very cleverly.

He laughed and dove in to swim for shore, with me a few yards behind. Shivering in the fading light, we toweled off quickly, threw on our clothes and practically ran up the path to my car. In 10 minutes we were inside my house, and in 20 I had a roaring fire going in the stone fireplace that was its only really nice feature.

While I poured two big snifters of brandy, Steve settled cross-legged in front the fire, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. I sat in a low chair a foot or two away from him. We were quiet for a few minutes, sipping the brandy, each thinking his private thoughts. It was a pleasant, comfortable silence, and when he finally broke it he did so very quietly.

“So except for that time on the boat, you never touched a guy before today?” he asked.

“Nope,” I said. “What about you?”

“Actually, I have a bit of experience in that line.”

“Oh?” I said. “Tell me about it.”

He swallowed a little brandy.

“Not much to tell, really,” he said. “It happened when I was married. It’s why my marriage broke up, actually.”

He stared at the fire for a minute.

“In our neighborhood there was another couple our age a few doors away. They were nice people, although she was kind of bossy and sometimes I thought he wasn’t very happy being married to her. They had a nice pool in the backyard, though, and often invited us over for a barbecue and a swim. One night the four of us had been drinking pretty heavily. My wife decided to go to bed, so I walked her home. She went straight to bed, and I decided to go back. By this time the other woman had gone to bed, too, so it was just me and the guy. We sat up for a long time drinking and talking and, well, next thing you know we were talking about sex and then he came on to me.

“For a second I was put off and almost left, but then I thought, what the hell. So we took our clothes off and got into the pool and started touching each other and, well, it was a hell of a night, that’s all I can say.

“The next day I felt guilty and dirty and disgusted with myself and promised myself it would never happen again. But when he called a week later, saying his wife was away on business and would I come over, I made some excuse to my wife and went. I almost chickened out on his doorstep, but before I could turn back he opened the door and pulled me inside. We spent the next hour on the floor, doing things I never thought I’d do with another guy. We never even made it to the bedroom, did it right there on the floor.

“We managed to get together five or six times after that, and every time things were just as wild and passionate. Then we got careless. His wife almost caught us one night when we were in the pool, so the next time my wife was out for awhile I decided to ask him over to our house. That went ok, but the next time.....The next time, my wife came home early and caught us buck-naked on the couch in the den. She made quite a scene: told the other wife, told her parents and mine, and next thing I know I’m divorced. I decided it’d be easier to start over in another place, so I moved down here.

“And since then?” I asked.

“No other guys,” he said. “A few women, just to prove to myself I wasn’t gay. But I was never happy. I kept thinking about that guy. We talked on the phone a few times, secretly, but never got together again. His wife forgave him and last I heard they were doing fine. Eventually I stopped thinking about him. I had just about convinced myself I was straight after all, and then I took that hike and went through the bushes and saw you there and, well, here we are.”

“Yeah,” I said, “Here we are. For what it’s worth, I’m glad you came by that day.”

“So am I,” he said.

Several minutes passed while we both stared into the fire. Finally I worked up the courage to ask him something I’d been thinking of since he started his story.

“Did you... with that guy....I mean, did you....suck each other?”

A big smile spread across his face.

“Shit, yes,” he said. “A lot.”

I took a deep breath.

“Show me how,” I said.

He looked startled for a second, but smiled again. He pushed the blanket off his shoulders and crawled on all fours to my chair. He reached up and undid the button on my shorts, lowered the zipper and buried his face in my lap, nuzzling the front of my underwear with his nose and lips. My dick stirred to life, and when I lifted my hips he slipped my shorts and skivvies down my legs and pulled them off. He lowered his face and, with the tip of his tongue, gently circled the head of my dick.

“Ohhhh,” I moaned.

By now my cock was standing straight up in my lap. He lowered his tongue again and licked the underside of the shaft from just above the balls to the tip, where he again circled the head. He did this three or four times, each time a little more vigorously. I was squirming in the chair, and when he took one of my balls in his mouth and sucked on it the thrill was almost too much to bear.

“Suck me,” I begged.

He moved his head a little higher, opened his mouth slightly, moistened his lips and then lowered them onto my dick. Slowly, slowly, they moved down the shaft, and I thinkl my toes starting to curl. Down, down his lips moved, until the entire length of my dick was in his mouth. I started automatically to thrust, but he put his hands on my thighs to hold me down. I relaxed again, and he started moving his mouth up and down the shaft. The sensation was incredible. No woman had ever made me feel like this. I threw my head back, and animal sounds came out of my throat I’d never made before. When my cum started to rise I knew I’d never be able to hold back.

“I’m going to come,” I warned him, but he ignored me. Faster and faster his mouth moved up and down my dick, now swollen with cum and ready to burst.

“I’m coming!” I shouted, and with a violent shudder, every muscle tensing, I spewed into his mouth. Once, twice -- four, five times I pumped, each a sharp jet of heat through my throbbing cock. Steve kept his mouth firmly on my dick. He must have swallowed every drop, because when he finally released me there was nothing on his lips but a smile.

“My turn?”
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