Caught

Published on Jun 28, 1997

Encounters

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CAUGHT! Gay/Straight/True

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I visualized him in my masturbatorial fantasies... and even thought about him occasionally, when I was buried deep in my wife. These were harmless musings that made me orgasm strongly. He was ten years younger than me, attractively fair, quite effeminate and charmingly gay. We took kayaking classes together the month before I ran into him at the neighborhood community center.

Inside the cafeteria, we gabbed about kayaking. I felt awkward because I was certain he could feel my curious homosexual fascination.

After coffee, he invited me into an empty, cozy room where old folks play bridge Wednesday evenings. We sat across from each other on matching leather sofas and discussed nothing really; at least nothing on the surface. Deeper, we were transmitting passionate innuendo. It was about four in the afternoon that hot, summer Sunday and I was due to pick-up my kid from daycamp, but I lost all sense of time. I was consumed.

He'd lean forward to squeeze my knee whenever I said something funny. He'd tilt back into the cushions, laugh and spread his legs. He was so well groomed and had a soft nature; not intimidating at all. I never felt like this before. I was actually having an erection over another guy!

he asked if I was gay. I never -- ever touched a naked man but blurted, "I'm Bi." I really didn't know what I was at that point. I'd have said anything because I wanted him.

The atmosphere became electric and my chest pounded. I gazed unmistakably over his tight Levis. He pursed his lips as I've seen women do often.

Without reserve, I put my hand in my pocket and clutched my penis. He blew a kiss at me. I was trapped in the game. I had to be alone with him.

I surveyed the room and hallway but found no place isolated. I told him I lived down the road apiece, and asked coyly if he'd come to my car in the underground. A woman would feel this cheeky, but the guy stood in an instant. We were both giddy and there were no subtleties. It was pure male-sexuality. I beamed as we walked away from the community center.

The underground's labyrinth was snug and private. If anyone closed in on the car, we seemed to be people on the go.

We built the mood again. I leaned over and touched his face. I can't remember the last time I felt another man's shaved beard. He reached for my fly and unzipped. I helped him tug at my trousers. He closed his warm, wet, mustached lips around my cock, and I stretched out, stared through the car's roof, and got hard in his mouth.

Bingo! My wife's horrified face blazed through my side window. I gasped. The fellow raised quickly. My pants were around my knees. My sodden cock stood solid but slackened quickly. She stomped off. I was dumbfounded and flustered. I weighed running after her but relaxed and uttered instead, "Finish me off, Lover." I must have been insane. He grasped my cock, floated down, and slurped enthusiastically -- until I convulsed and creamed between his delicate lips.

He asked me to watch him jerk off, so I cupped his balls. My other hand fumbled about to stroke my own. Suddenly he cried, "Here, this is for you!" and squirted consecutive arcs of cum over his T-shirt up to his chin, and down to his fur.

We sat absorbing the afterglow and discussed the mortifying disturbance. I guess he was trying to untangle himself when he claimed sadly, I enticed him back at the center. I assured him I would never hold him responsible.

It happened! It's over I think... except when my wife and I make love. She asks for a blow-by-blow chronicle of that afternoon when she decided to get the kid herself... since I didn't come home on time. I mean right in the middle of fucking, she quizzes me...

And I tell her!

My loving mate, friend, and confidant suffers no ill. As a matter of fact, the experience compliments our sex life. Recently, she insisted on sucking me in the car; unusual for my conservative wife. Sometime, when we masturbate together, she tempts me to describe my same-sex fantasies. During a family vacation to the mountains, she stood naked in our chalet, and covered her pussy with her hand. I knelt, then she tugged my head and pumped her thumb into my mouth.

I never saw my graceful, cock-jock again but I search for him whenever I'm at the center. I need to hold his cock and watch his expression as he spurts love juice. I'd worship that, just one more cheatin' time.

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