I swear I didn't leave her to be gay. I left her because it was the only way I could maintain my sanity. After many years of marriage, I finally had had enough. I needed to be unshackled, to breathe again. I had to get away from a woman who made Kate, the shrew, look like an angel of kindness.
I couldn't please her. I couldn't do anything right in her eyes. If we were in a car, I always took the wrong street. If I did the shopping, I always bought the wrong brand or the wrong size apple. She constantly bought me new clothes "to freshen my wardrobe." I kept returning them, mainly because I didn't need what she bought, and also because I had no room in my drawers, which were already piled high with unworn shirts and sweaters. Then when I wore something new, she would yell at me to wear my old stuff first. Can you figure it out? I tell you, I was going mad.
She made dates to eat out with friends (hers) at least five nights a week. My credit card increased $1,000 a month and she didn't seem to care. I was headed for bankruptcy.
Also we hadn't had sex for about five years. At first I tried, but she insisted that I hurt her. I wasn't too sad about it. I had just as much fun whacking off in the shower. In time, however, as you can imagine, I got hornier and hornier.
And when I got together with my friends, they all had the same complaints. So why did we all stay married to the same women? Well, to tell the truth, my friends loved their wives in spite of everything. I had stopped having any feelings for mine years before.
Don't ask me why. I can't tell you. When I was alone in my den, I started to enter gay chat rooms. I guess I figured that a man would be more fun to be with than any woman. Besides that, when I was in the navy I had one very enjoyable encounter with a buddy of mine. Of course, we were both drunk so I discounted it, but never really forgot it. Maybe I wanted to regain that evening of carefree sex. It was before HIV and we didn't have to worry about unwanted pregnancy.
But I digress. Early on, while in a chat room, I made contact with another married man. We compared notes and everything matched. We began to E Mail each other. We arranged to IM on line. We called each other when we knew we would be alone. We had phone sex. I sent him a picture to a PO Box number, and he sent me a picture through a gay friend of mine with whom I had confided. We both wanted each other badly.
About six months after we met, my wife went to visit my daughter for two weeks. I stayed behind because I had to work (and to enjoy two weeks of peace.) My friend told his wife he had a business conference and we arranged to meet on the weekend in a city half way between us. We lived about two hundred miles apart.
I don't have to tell you what a wonderful weekend that was. For months we had been telling each other what we would do to each other. We had promised every male sexual fantasy you can imagine and we did not renege. I can easily say it was the best weekend of my life and my friend said the same. But when you are married, two hundred miles is as good as being half way around the world. We never saw each other again. About a year later he wrote to tell me that he had left his wife and was moving in with a man he had met locally. He promised to stay in touch, but the next time I E-Mailed him, my letter was returned, and he never sent me a new address. I'm sorry about that because I'd like to tell him that eventually I found happiness too.
At some point, I met a single man who liked to have sex with married men. He knew that they would never get serious or pressure him for a relationship. Besides all that, he hated to sleep with anybody. His encounters with married men were short and sweet and out before bed time. He was a nurse who started work at 2 PM. When my wife played tennis three mornings a week, I'd call my friend, run over to his house and be home by the time she got home. It was ideal, and when I ran out of my house in utter despair one day, it was he who put me up until I could get an apartment.
What pushed me over the edge? Everything! One beautiful weekend in May, my wife was on the phone all day Saturday and most of Sunday. Late Sunday afternoon she threw the calendar on the kitchen table and announced triumphantly, "I have the entire summer filled with dinner dates."
"With whom?" I asked rather sarcastically. She started to rattle off names. I wouldn't want to spend two minutes with one of these people much less a whole evening. Why I'd gag over my dinner. Then came the kicker. "We're going to the same restaurant twice next week, but you won't mind. You like that place."
I smiled sweetly at her as I exploded internally. The next morning, when she went to play tennis, I threw a few clothes and necessities into my car, and drove to my friend, the nurse. I left my wife a note taking all the blame. I told her I had turned gay and couldn't live with her any more.
I did this deed impulsively, without making any plans. Everything I owned was in joint name. She quickly transferred everything to her new account. I was literally penniless and had to start life over at sixty. You have never in your lives met a sixty year old pauper who was so happy.
The day I moved into my new apartment was another happy day even though I incurred heavy debt furnishing it. I never had so much fun spending money. I had been working part time but found a new job full time. It was so wonderful going food shopping. Miraculously I never bought the wrong things. The streets I drove on always got me to my destination and were never the wrong streets. I cooked my dinners at home and hardly ever ate out. I joined a senior gay organization and began to make new friends.
I still used the internet to make sexual contacts. Even though I got stood up more often than not, I still managed to have sex two or three times a week. Sometimes it was fantastic and sometimes not so. I rarely saw those tricks more than once. That was fine with me. The last thing I wanted was to be in a relationship. My goal was to be single the rest of my life.
HA! HA! HA!
When I least expected it, when I least wanted it, I met him, him, HIM! It amazes me that so many of my single friends search and search and search and still can't find "Mr. Right." I guess the trick is to stop looking.
So here's how it happened. I got this strange call one afternoon from one of my new gay friends. He said he had a visitor from Sweden, Sven. It seems Sven was visiting several friends in America and would be here for five days. Sven had a goal. He had sworn to give head to no less than two hundred men while he was in America. My friend was calling everyone he knew to come and enjoy. In addition, several of his friends were going to Karaoke Night at a local gay bar that evening, along with Sven, and he invited me to go along.
Let me interrupt the story here. I told you that I was sixty at the time. Not a soul I met believed I was a day over fifty. This is important so please keep it in mind. Thank you
To continue the story: When I got to my friend's apartment which was in the same complex as mine, Sven was in the bedroom servicing someone, and two of my friend's STRAIGHT neighbors were waiting their turn with Sven. Everyone sat around nervous and fidgety. I noticed a pile of clothes near the bedroom door and rightly assumed that it belonged to the guy Sven was servicing. Suddenly I heard a blood curdling scream. Obviously the gentleman had just cum. Boy he was loud.
After a few minutes, Sven came out of the bedroom first totally naked. Wow, wow, wow! He was Scandinavian elegance. He stood at least 6'2" tall, blond hair (of course), ice blue eyes, not an ounce of fat on him, a bubble butt to die for. His cock was semi erect so I couldn't tell its true size, but he was substantial. I don't usually like to give statistics, but I need to make a point.
Sven smiled at one of the straight guys, who foolishly bolted out the front door. He was followed by the other straight neighbor who also had second thoughts. I was staying put. No kidding!
I was so busy gawking at Sven that I failed to notice the hunk coming out of the bedroom behind him. He was about 5'10" tall with blue-gray eyes, very lean, not muscular at all, thick silver hair even though he couldn't be more than forty-five, (I thought) and he had the prettiest cock I had ever seen. Don't ask me to describe it. I thought it was pretty. You might not. My heart skipped a beat, and I hoped he wouldn't think I was too old for him. I was suddenly ashamed of my cock size. I had always been below average, but it had not been a problem. When I was younger, and it got hard, it grew to a very respectable size. Unfortunately at my age, it still engorged, but it didn't get really hard. I couldn't (damn it) penetrate any more. Don't tell me about Viagra. It just doesn't work for me.
Just at that time another gay couple and a single gay man arrived, not for sex, but to go to the club for Karaoke. Believe it or not, I never had my session with Sven. Believe it or not I didn't much care. My eyes were glued to Silver Hair. Still naked, he said hello to the three new arrivals (he seemed to know them) and then he was introduced to me. I was still sitting on the couch and as he leaned over to shake my hand, his cock dangled enticingly in my face. If he wasn't holding my hand I swear I would have grabbed it. I had all I could do to restrain my other hand. We held on to each other way too long and finally he said, "I guess I better get dressed." He said it like he would rather not. He retrieved the pile of clothes and started to dress right in front of me. I was getting all worked up over his reverse strip tease. Sven went into the bedroom to dress.
Let me tell you about the club we were going to. For those in the know, it was customary to wear shorts and to ditch your underwear. Let's just say that groping in that place always proved to be fruitful.
As it turned out there were seven of us going to the club, and I had a mini van that could seat seven so I drove. Karaoke night was very popular and the place was as crowded as a New York City subway at rush hour. People were just pushed one against the other. I'm sure that if the fire marshal showed up, he would have closed the joint.
I chose to push my almost hard erection up against Silver Hair who happily pushed back against me and planted a juicy kiss on my lips. I was shaking with excitement. He seemed to like me as much as I liked him. I am not one to break with tradition so I dropped my right arm and reached under his shorts. He did the same to me. We fondled each other's balls and cock all evening while listening to the Karaoke. I almost came several times as did he, but we stopped short of allowing it to happen. That was a wise thing because Silver Hair was a very loud screamer.
It was so noisy that we couldn't hear one another speak so we worked our way outside to the parking lot. Outside, we both noticed the tenting in our shorts and laughed. We were still holding each other and kissing.
"Look, Gabe (that was his name)," I said. "I live just a couple of streets from Lenny (our mutual friend and Sven's host.) Why don't you follow me home when we get back? I'll make us a cup of coffee."
Gabe smiled. My heart skipped a couple of beats. "Sure," he said.
I couldn't wait for the Karaoke to end and to get out of this place. Finally it did and the crowd began to thin out. We didn't rush. The club had valet parking and it would take a while to get my car. On the ride back Gabe sat next to me up front. Lenny invited us back for a little bit more TLC from Sven, but it was late and we all declined. I pulled up in front of Lenny's apartment and everyone piled out. Kiss, kiss, goodnight. I stayed in my car and Gabe ran for his. He pulled out before anyone and lined up right behind me. I started out and he followed me. Five minutes later, I directed him to a guest spot in front of my building and parked in my assigned space right in front of my entrance. Gabe followed me in and we were alone for the first time.
As soon as I closed my door, he wrapped his arms around me and started kissing me. I was flattered, but it was not what I wanted. I wanted to get my rocks off and send him home. Apparently Gabe had plans to spend the night. I could see that I would have to sacrifice.
I made the coffee and as it brewed and as we sipped it with cookies, Gabe talked and talked and talked. There wasn't anything I didn't know about him. Boy was I bored, so I won't bore you with his history. There's only one thing you have to know. Gabe is a few years older than I am, but he looks younger and you already know that I look younger than I am. In short, we are taken for a much younger couple than we really are. That's a good thing. Plenty of guys would like to share our bed with us, and plenty of women would like me out of it, and would like to share it with Gabe. He's so cute.
Finally, I led him to my bedroom. I went to one side of my bed and started to strip so he went to the other. We jumped into bed and didn't need many preliminaries. We had been feeling each other up all evening. Damn! Gabe was harder than I was going to get and he was older. I think I hated him. I couldn't resist and went right down on him. He came, screaming loud enough to be heard in China. Fortunately there are concrete walls between apartments in my building. I dare you to try and hang a picture. I swear I started to laugh at his screaming, but as I pulled away, he begged me not to stop and I kept right on pleasuring him. In just a minute or two, he came again. Mind you, he had cum once (at least) at Lenny's and now twice here. I was always a once a night kind of guy. As I grew older, two or three times a week was what I could muster. You can see I hated him more and more.
Finally, I had my turn. After I came, I wanted to roll over and just sleep, but not old Gabe. He begged me to go down on him again. I must admit I loved the taste of him and how he screamed when he came. I hated him so much for his sexual prowess, but I was falling in love with him because he was so handsome and such a great guy. I knew instinctively he had a good heart. I couldn't say no to him so I brought him to climax once more, the fourth time that evening. Damn I'm good. And did I tell you? I hate him!
I told you, I loved being single and living alone. I absolutely did not want a relationship. So don't ask me how it happened. Gabe and I have not spent one night apart since that very first night. Everything we did after that we did together. We ate together; we went to shows together; to church together; vacationed together and most important, slept together. Now, we even live together in a new home we bought together.
Our love making is limited to manual and oral stimulation. If I have any regrets at all, it's that we didn't meet sooner. When I play with his crack, he goes bananas. If I could get hard enough to penetrate, he'd be a great bottom. I know how he loves for me to play with him there.
Now what's the reason for me telling you all this? Well, you know how it was with my wife. It's just exactly the opposite with Gabe. Whatever I do is just fine with him (except when I leave the lights on in an empty room.) Whatever I buy at the supermarket is just perfect. Whatever route I take to any given destination is exactly the right one. We rarely eat out and when we do, it's generally just the two of us. Of course, we dine out with friends, but not five nights a week.
I'm trying to tell you something here, guys. I'm happy. These are the best of times. I never regret the day I walked out on a main stream, seemingly comfortable life. How else would I have met Gabe?