For several weeks I tried not to think about Tom, and for the most part succeeded. But I couldn’t put him out of my mind completely, and there were times when I missed him terribly.
Once or twice I picked up the phone intending to call him, and many times started writing him an email, but I couldn’t bring myself to press the “call’ or “send” buttons.

Things at home were predictably grim. My wife was still talking to me, though just barely, and she usually turned away when I tried to kiss her. Sex, of course, was out of the question -- not that my libido was that strong, anyway.

It wasn’t until I went out of town on business, for an annual convention I attended nearly every year, that I even thought about breaking my promise to her, and then I broke it thoroughly.

The convention was in Chicago, one of my favorite places, so I arranged to fly in the day before the convention so I could walk around downtown and have dinner with some old friends. When I got back to the hotel it was still fairly early, so I decided to stop by the hotel bar for a nightcap.

At a table near the back was a guy I recognized from previous conventions; he’d been on a panel I attended the previous year, and we had talked for 10 or 15 minutes afterwards. He looked up when I walked in, and though I could tell it took him a second to place me, he waved and smiled and pointed at the empty chair across from him.

I went over and shook his hand.
“I know I know you,” I said, “but to be honest I can’t remember your name.”

“I can’t remember yours either,” he said. “Why don’t you be Fred, say, and I’ll be Dave.”

“Good to see you again, Dave,” I said.

“It’s been a long time, Fred,” he answered with a laugh. “Buy you a drink?”

“Dying for one,” I said.

I thought we would switch immediately to our real names, but “Dave” plunged instead into small talk.
“You’re here early for the convention?”

So I told him about coming early to see my friends, and he said he’d come early to visit a Navy buddy, and from there we went on to other things, and I soon forgot about names altogether.

After half an hour’s talk and three doubles he looked at me kind of drunkenly and said, “The nice thing about not knowing each other’s real names is we can pretend to be whoever we want. Like, I could pretend to be a guy who wants to suck your dick, and you could pretend to be a guy who wants me to do it.”

For a second I just stared at him.

“Um....,” was all I could say.

“If you really didn’t like the idea you would have left or punched me out by now,” he said. “So I guess you do want me to do it.”

He looked at me steadily now, but I couldn’t quite work up an answer. At first I asked myself, “What, do I radiate gayness or something? This is the second time some guy’s come on to me in a bar.”

My dick, however, was making my mind up for me. I was already half-hard and getting harder by the second.

“Well, Dave,” I said. “I’ll agree on one condition.”
“What’s that, Fred?”

“That I get to suck you, too.”

Now it was his turn to be surprised.

“You serious?”

“Yes,” I said. “Let’s go.”

We both swayed a bit when we stood up, but steadied ourselves enough to get to the elevator
in the lobby. When the doors closed behind us Dave immediately closed the distance between us, planted a vigorous kiss on my lips and clamped his hand on my crotch.

“Down, boy,” I said, but as he pulled away I cupped his balls and gave them a friendly tug.
Only now did I take a look at him. Not especially good-looking, I thought, but solid, well-built. A good-sized dick, probably, judging by the size of the bulge in his pants.

We got off at his floor and I followed him to his room. The second he got inside he started undressing, and was down to his underwear and socks by the time he reached the bed.

Throwing back the covers, he sat down, took off his socks and waited for me.
I had thought enough on the trip upstairs to feel guilty about what I was about to do, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to do it. I stripped completely, and with my hardon pointing the way I walked over to him.

He was well-built, as I thought; looked like he might have been a linebacker in high school, with big biceps and a broad, muscular chest. The look on his face was hungry, and he immediately took me in his mouth.

The feeling was so wonderful my knees almost buckled, but he wrapped his arms around my thighs and held me steady while he pumped my swollen cock. Deep-throating was obviously no trouble for him, and he seemed determined to make me come as quickly as possible. He used his hand as well as his mouth, wringing my cock rhythmically while he sucked, while with the other he massaged my balls.

Although I’d jacked off regularly since that confrontation with my wife, it was more out of a sense of duty than anything; I hadn’t really gotten my rocks off in weeks. Now I did, in four, five, six shuddering thrusts and a moan that probably could be heard in the lobby. I must have produced a flood of cum, because he swallowed four times before he let me go.

“I guess you needed that,” he said.
“I need this, too,” I said, pushing him back on the bed and yanking his underwear down around his ankles.
I was right about his cock; it was a big one -- a good nine inches long, two inches wide at the basen -- and about as hard as a baseball bat. No way I can deep-throat that, I thought, but I can certainly give him a good time.

In two minutes I had him writhing on the bed; in three, I had him on the point of cumming. To my surprise he pushed me off and finished himself off with his hand. I have never seen so much cum in my life; it literally poured out of him.

When the gushing stopped and his ragged breathing had returned to normal, he said, “I just love watching myself come.”

“It certainly was impressive,” I said, climbing up on the bed next to him.

“Dan,” I said, offering my hand.

“Ken,” he said, taking it. “Though I kind of liked being Dave.”

After we chatted a few minutes he asked me what I was doing the next night.
“Not much,” I said. “After the afternoon sessions I thought I might wander down Michigan Avenue for awhile, just taking it in. I love Chicago.”

“I’ve got a better idea,” he said. “Why don’t you join the WiFi Bi Guys?”

“The who?”

“The WiFi Bi Guys,” he said. “It’s a group of married guys who get together at these conventions each year and have sex.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“No, I’m not,” he said. “It got started three or four years ago when a couple of guys hooked up online -- that’s the WiFi part -- and gradually they pulled other guys in. I think there are five of us here this time -- usually there’s one or two more, but some companies cut back on travel this year.”

“Where do you meet?”

“One of our rooms.”

“And what do you do?”

“Pretty much whatever anyone’s into. The only rules are: safe sex only, no bathroom stuff, no pain. Everything else is OK.”

“Wow,” I said. “Hot.”

“ Very hot,” he said. “Why don’t I come by your room about 9 and get you?”

“Ok,” I said. “Sounds like a plan.”

Before I left he handed me a Viagra.
“Take this about 8:30,” he said. “You’ll be glad you did.”

Needless to say, the next day was a very long one. I had always tried to get something useful out of the convention sessions, but this time I found it hard to concentrate. I kept drifting off into thoughts of cum gushing from Ken’s big dick, and fantasies about what I might find that night. Once I spotted Ken in the hallway talking in low tones to a red-haired guy, and I found myself wondering whether he was one of the Bi Guys and what he looked like naked. I suddenly got hard, and I had to sit down for a second before it subsided enough for me to walk away without making a spectacle of myself.

Five o’clock eventually came around, and with it the end of the day’s sessions. I had a bite to eat, went upstairs, got a drink out of the Servi-Bar and called my wife. We talked for a bit, she put the kids on, and she said a loving goodbye. Hadn’t had a lot of those lately, I thought.

I nodded off watching the TV, and woke up about 8. I decided to get a shower, and at 8:30 took the Viagra. I sat on the bed fidgeting for about 20 minutes, and stood up with a start when I finally heard Ken’s knock.

We took the elevator up another four floors, walked down a long hallway and stopped before the last door. Ken knocked and a voice said, “Come in.”

At first all I saw was a tangle of naked bodies on one of the two beds -- three, four guys, it was hard to tell at first. I heard someone say, “New Guy!” and the pile broke up.

Four guys gathered in a semi-circle in front of me, all of them slowly stroking their dicks: a tall, thin guy, probably a runner; the red-haired guy I’d seen yesterday, a little on the pudgy side but with a cock nearly as big as Ken’s; a dark-complected guy, kind of hairy, quite muscular: and a slim black guy -- one of the best-looking guys, I thought, I’d ever seen in person. All four wore wedding rings.

“Len, Terry, Ahmed, Sean,” Ken said, pointing at them one by one. “This is Dan.”

“Hey, Dan,” they said.

While Ken helped me take off my clothes, the four formed a line in front of me. When I was naked Ken dropped to his knees, took me briefly in his mouth, gave me few vigorous strokes with his hand, and then got up again to get undressed. The other four came up to me one by one, dropping to their knees and each sucking me briefly before returning to the bed. When it was Sean’s turn he gave me a long look before sucking me -- I had the feeling he was as attracted to me as I was to him -- and he sucked me much longer than the others did.

Finally he, too, got up, but instead of going to the near bed, where Len, Terry and Ahmed were already going at it, he moved to the far bed and lay down.

“Now you’re an official member,” Ken said with a laugh.

Only now did I look around the room. On a table near the door stood three or four liquor bottles and several cans of beer, along with a package of condoms and two tubes of lube. A gay porn movie was playing on someone’s laptop, though nobody seemed to be paying attention to it.

Ken, naked, his huge cock at full attention, picked up a condom, tore it open, unrolled it onto his cock and squeezed out a big gob of lube. When Ahmed saw what he was doing, he got up on all fours, his feet just hanging over the edge of the bed, and presented his ass to Ken. Without hesitating Ken strode over and plunged his dick directly into Ahmed’s hole. I winced to think of that monster inside me, but Ahmed took it in effortlessly. As Ken started pumping Ahmed’s ass, Len and Terry began making out next to them.

When I finally took this all in, I looked over at Sean, who was looking directly at me, one hand slowly pumping his cock, the other carressing his balls. He really was a good-looking guy, in a Taye Diggs sort of way. His eyes were light-colored, maybe even green. He was completely shaven -- head, chest, stomach, pubes -- and while he wasn’t muscular, he didn’t appear to have an ounce of fat on him. He flashed me a killer smile.

I climbed onto the bed. He drew his knees up and spread his legs slightly so I could kneel between them. I pressed my throbbing cock against his, and looked down.

It was startling how similar our dicks looked, except for the color, of course -- same length, same thickness, almost the same shape in the head. I backed up slightly and bent down. I licked his balls, took them in my mouth one after another, sucked on them gently. Then I moved up and took in as much of his cock as I could. He moaned, pushed upward slightly and began thrusting gently. I would have sucked him to the end, but he placed his hands on my hand and lifted me away.

Reaching to his right, he took a condom, already unwrapped, and grasped me by the cock. Expertly he unrolled it down my shaft, squeezing gently as he did. I thought I might come right then and there. But he let me go, took a big dollop of lube from a tube and smeared it on his ass.

“Let’s go,” he said.

Lifting his legs slightly, I pressed my dick against his hole, pushed the head in and waited for him to adjust. When he was ready I pressed my whole length into him in one long, smooth stroke.

Sean groaned, but not in pain. He wrapped his legs around me and I started to thrust.

For the next 10 minutes we were in our own little world, Sean and I. We could hear moans and slapping sounds and ragged breath from the others, but it was as if from a distance. We were wholly lost in our fucking. Or should I call it love-making? Because that’s what it was, really -- we were moving together, each looking for the slight shift in position or change in rhythm that would give the other more intense pleasure. We kissed the whole time, passionately, probing deep with our tongues, lost totally in the moment.

I felt contractions beginning inside Sean, which triggered contractions of my own. We picked up the pace; I pushed his thighs closer to his body, and drove my cock in deeper. He broke our kiss, turned his head to the side and uttered a long “Oooohhhhhhhhhhh.”

I turned my head briefly and saw Len and Terry kneeling next to each other on the floor. Ken stood over them with his cock pointed at their mouths, jacking himself furiously. With a cry he came, the same huge gush I had seen last night, spattering the faces of both men and coating their tongues with cum.

The sight sent me over the edge. I plunged as deeply into Sean as I could go, emptying my cock into his ass in five hard jerks. At the same moment I felt a gush against my stomach; Sean had come, too, a single stream that puddled in his stomach and spilled over his sides onto the sheet.

I collapsed, exhausted, on top of him, my cock still twitching, his cock still leaking.

The next hour or so was a blur, of bodies heaving and writhing, of groans and moans and whimpers. My cock went into three asses besides Sean’s; my own ass had been fucked at least briefly by everyone but Ken. (“No, thanks,” I’d told him. “You’d split me open.”)

The room fairly stank of semen. Faces and bodies were crusted with it, and I could taste it on my tongue and feel it in my hair. My ass was fuck-sore, my cock red and tender.

That Sean and I had made some special connection was obvious, not just to us but also to the rest of the guys. We had kept coming back to each other, and after a while they just left us to ourselves.

When everyone was completely spent, I went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Sean followed me in, and we got in together. I soaped him all over, felt the smooth tautness of his skin, kneaded his muscles from shoulders to calves.

“You … are... beautiful,” I said.

He laughed in delight and taking the soap from me said, “No, you are.”

When he was done washing me he pushed the curtain aside. Catching sight of our reflections in the mirror, we looked at each other for a long time. White and black, a perfectly natural union of opposites.

We got dressed and left together.
“What you lovers going to do now?” Ken called as we walked out.

“Go to sleep,” Sean called over his shoulder.

As we walked down the hallway Sean said, “I’m serious about going to bed. I am beat. But what are you doing after the morning sessions? I have a couple of hours in the afternoon before my flight. Want to come by?”

“I sure do,” I said.
“Room 1505.”

The next morning dragged by even more slowly than the first day, and by the time I knocked on Sean’s door, a little after 1, I was boiling with lust. He opened the door naked, his cock already hard, and I barely had the door closed before he started tearing at my clothes.

We ended up in a sweating, heaving heap on the floor, my cock buried in his ass, his legs wrapped tightly around me, and I came in less than a minute. Pulling out quickly I lubed up his cock and impaled myself on it, and after two minutes of riding him hard he gave a convulsive jerk and hot cum filled my ass.

After catching our breath we moved to the bed, where we lay for a good 20 minutes without speaking. Eventually he got up and headed for the bathroom, and when I heard the water running I got up to follow. We had a long hot shower together, wrapped ourselves in hotel bathrobes and sat down at the table.

We still hadn’t spoken more than half a dozen words to each other, so it startled me a bit when he asked, “So where do you live?”

“Pittsburgh,” I said.

“I travel there several times a year,” he said. “We should get together.”

“We certainly should,” I said. “When’s your next visit?”

“Next month, actually,” he said.

“It’s a date.”

---

When I got home the atmosphere seemed to have lightened a bit. My wife was less distant, less grim-faced, though she still didn’t give any indication of wanting sex from me.

Then one weekend morning, about a week after I got back from Chicago, I caught her masturbating in bed. I had gotten up early to put the coffee on and read the paper, and when I came back to the bedroom to get dressed she was lying on her back, her T-shirt pulled up and her pajama bottoms pulled down, one hand caressing her tits and the other stroking her clit.

This wasn’t the first time I’d seen her getting herself off; over the years we occasionally varied our sexual routine by jacking off together. But this time she was giving me a look I hadn’t seen before, a steady, penetrating stare with a hint of something, I don’t know, wild and desperate.

For a second I stood there, not knowing what to do, but I was getting aroused myself and I decided to risk it. I pulled off my own T-shirt and bottoms and walked over to the bed. My cock was standing straight up, but I made no further move, waiting to see what she would do.

Still looking me straight in the eye, she took the hand away from her tits and moved it toward her crotch. Without changing the rhythmic stroking of her clit with the other hand, she put three fingers into her cunt and started fucking herself. Her hips rose and fell, the muscles in her legs flexed and twitched, her nipples grew if possible more swollen and dark. A low, animal sound came from her mouth. I breathed deeply, and could smell the funk coming from her crotch. It was all I could do not to touch myself.

Her orgasm built slowly. It started with a slight bucking of her hips, and grew rapidly to a violent writhing of her whole body. She now had all five fingers in her cunt, and the fucking motion they made was strong and hard. Suddenly their motion slowed; her legs flexed, her toes pointed, she rolled onto her side and buried her face in the pillow. She came so hard she doubled up, her legs jerking toward her chest, and the sound that came out of her mouth, even though muffled by the pillow, was like nothing I’d ever heard from her. It had relief and release and pleasure in it, sure, but also pain and anguish and rage.

Standing there next to the bed, my cock feeling it was about to burst, I had never wanted her so badly in my life. My resistance finally crumbled; I grabbed my cock with my right hand and furiously started stroking.

“No,” she said, rolling on to her back and spreading her legs. “In me.”

I threw myself at her, jammed myself in. She gasped, but wrapped her legs and arms tightly around me. I rocked her back, plunged in still deeper, banged her more roughly than I ever had. In mere seconds we both came, gasping and straining like beasts, so much cum flowing out of me that I could feel it seeping out of her cunt and dripping onto my balls.

For a long time neither one of us spoke. Finally she gave me a nudge, and I rolled off her onto my side. “So,” she said. “I want to know, what did you get from that other woman that you can’t get from me?”

For me, the moment of truth had come. I looked her in the eye and said,

“It wasn’t a woman.”