Tuesday. Never a great day. There was a realisation that Monday cast a gloomy shadow on the long week ahead. A week that had already begun in fruitless frustration. The mission on Monday had been to discover how I came to have a scrap of paper in my pocket with a carefully written telephone number on it.

The question nagging at my brain was: could the number belong to a colleague? There had been a group of us out the night it materialised. There were three likely suspects and my friend Bob was one. I didn't associate the phone number with him and why he would slip it into my pocket was mystifying.

I asked myself whether Bob was actually a closet gay? Was he trying to offer a new dimension to our relationship? We enjoyed talking about sex, but it was always from a heterosexual perspective. Did I find Bob attractive? Was I a repressed homosexual?

Images of Bob naked reeled in my head. That time we shared a hotel room, I had always assumed the muddle over the booking had been a random cock-up. The drunken embrace when we got back to the room had, I thought, been camaraderie. Whose idea had it been to watch porn on the pay per view? Mine probably.

Looking back, it was Bob who laughingly suggested we watch The Cane Mutiny. It turned out to be about sex starved pirates. They rebelled against the brutal beatings metered out by their sadistic masters. I had actually found the naked romps of the testosterone enriched sailors quite erotic and provocative.

Bob had said, “It's like watching a secret club. Boy, some of them sure have something to swing.”

Catching his drift, I replied, “Yeah the bosun has a dick like a baseball bat.”

I remembered how we laughed about that just before we raided the mini bar, and Bob decided to have a shower. Maybe I shouldn't have gone for a piss while he was in there.

It seemed like the usual bloke banter when Bob said, in a girly way, “Don't beat me with your club.”

I pulled the shower curtain aside and was faced with his erection. As we smiled at each other I reached out and touched his prick saying, “I hope you remembered to wash that beast, Bob.”

Bob coughed, making his balls dance a little. He then said, “I haven't got that far yet. Here's the soap.”

Feeling we had crossed a boundary, I replied, “Me neither. Should I get in to save water?”

Having reached a point of no return, I quickly stripped and joined him under the shower. Space was so tight we could not avoid physical contact. I took the soap and lathered it on my chest. I could not resist doing the same to Bob and thought to myself, “I wonder which of us will bend over to wash their feet first.”

I enjoyed the feel of Bob's hard hairy chest. So different to a woman's soft heavy breasts. I imagined him pressing against me. Hard and unyielding, not soft and accommodating like a woman. I found these thoughts very arousing. Getting lost in a little fantasy of Bob, I felt him close to me.

I needed to touch him and hold him. Opening my eyes, I could see longing in his face. I could relate to this face. I saw masculine characteristics which formed part of my own identity.

I said to him, “For the first time I am not playing a gender role or following stereotyped rules."

Bob smiled as I went on to say, “I want a sexual experience with you where I see me from someone else's perspective if that makes sense?”

“This is a strange situation,” he replied. “How about we dry each other off and retire to bed.”

He made it seem so natural. Rubbing each other with towels was stimulating and brought us to a state of intimacy which felt comfortable.

Flopped onto the bed, I said to Bob, “Have you had this kind of experience with a man before?”

”He replied, "No except at boarding school I suppose.”

“What happened at boarding school?” I asked.

“Just kids growing up, experimenting. There was a complete lack of girls, remember? ”said Bob who by this time was stroking his cock. His hand reached over to mine and I turned towards him.

Moving towards him, I said, “I want to see what it's like, Bob, so you kiss me quick.”

He needed no further encouragement. I was soon kissing him deeply in return. It felt hot running my hands across his chest. I imagined how it must feel when a woman did this to me. He responded to further firm caresses by kissing me lower. Moving farther down, he took my stiff throbbing cock into his mouth. The urgency to know how this felt soon had me doing the same to him. I gorged on the sensation, as if eating a forbidden treat. As Bob moaned with pleasure I enjoyed the feeling of controlling him. It wasn't like being lost in a woman's wet pussy and feeling her orgasm. This was a new experience. I was feeling how it was to give head. At the same time I knew exactly how it felt to receive the same. We moved to sixty-nine without realising it, sucking and stroking until we both needed air.

“Let me fuck you,” Bob said, almost reading my mind.

I responded by kneeling on the bed and offering him my arse, while he began to stroke his dick. I felt intense anticipation. I would go so far as to say excitement. I felt like I was at his mercy. He was in control of my pleasure.

“Please, Bob, I want it to feel good,” I said as the wet tip of his shaft pressed into the yawning hole.

My virginity vanished with a furious thrust of his prick. I moaned with happiness imagining the pleasure lovers of mine had enjoyed. I followed his movements and his prick grew suddenly from a spear to a cannon and I clenched him tight in my anal muscles. Feeling the strength of his orgasm, I held on to every spurt. Delirious with sensation, I now knew how it felt to have a man cum inside you.

As Bob withdrew his pulsing wet dick my muscles relaxed, and the reverie came to an end.

I was back with the question of whose phone number I had. If I accepted Bob's word, I would need to catch up with Jen and Karen.