An Older Man
I have always tried to be a faithful loving husband and father. However, I have also always been drawn to gay sex. I don’t know why and probably never will, but the nights I have stayed up late and masturbated to gay videos or stories would be countless. Even as a young teen I remember the secret urges.
In the end at 43 years old, I decided to fulfil my fantasy and finally took
the plunge by joining a swinging website. I naively thought that it would be
easier if a woman was present.
Being quite nervous of male contact, I thought perhaps a MFM might be the best way to start, then an MMF and finally I could reach my goal of MM, MMM or even MMMMMMMMM!
This last one seemed pretty unlikely though.
For what seemed like ages I couldn’t get or find the right couple and after only a few days realised that most swinging couples don’t want single, slightly overweight, hairy, 43 year old guys joining their nights of passion. Even though some of them look like Mr and Mrs Greasy Trailer Park Hippo, they are mainly after trim, young couples that look like they belong in Dynasty. I gave up on that idea.
I wondered if perhaps I should skip the MFM and MMF stage all together and
find a gay website to search. After around three seconds of searching I found
the most popular website. Where had it been all my life? gay guys openly
advertising for meets. Some of them lived a few doors away. (I dismissed those
straight away for fear of being caught).
I joined the website on a month’s subscription and began searching for my ideal man. For some reason I thought that an older guy would be better. He should live more than twenty miles away, and be ordinary looking. (I didn’t want to feel outdone when it came to the body and health department).
Just by reviewing their sites I started receiving messages. The first message
was from a guy who lived around 22 miles away, was 50 years old with a slight
belly, quite hairy and really gentle looking. (Something you would have wanted
your Granddad to look like when you were a kid).
I decided that he was the one and started messaging back.
He was single and claimed to be versatile. (I wasn’t sure about me and the
top/bottom thing and thought it would probably work itself out during the course
of the session). I decided I would tell him the versatile thing worked for me
His name was George and had been married with kids before he came out, he seemed to understand what I was going through and said he was cool with that.
After a couple of evenings chatting I decided that we should meet and have some fun. George kept repeating to me that he wouldn’t do anything I didn’t want him to. Shame really as I wanted him to show me everything all at once and get it over with. You must know that by now I felt obliged to every gay guy in the world that I should try everything at least once.
Just some info for you, my wife, Sarah, is great in bed and in the past has
fingered and rimmed me several times. This was an advantage as I knew all about
cleanliness and how to douche before a session. I would be mortified if I
accidentally let one go during a session.
So on the evening of the meeting with George, I told Sarah that I was going out with some friends from work to celebrate a birthday. Sarah asked about three million questions about the evening, but I had scripted this plan so well it was infallible. I quoted every pub we were going to, every drink I had planned and named all the guys going. I carefully chose work colleagues she didn’t know.
I slipped into the bath and cleaned myself really well, both inside and out in preparation.
After dressing, I kissed the wife and kids and headed out. Finally the night
had come. I was going to lose my gay cherry.
I jumped into the car and headed toward Georges house.
The journey seemed so short that I had no time to think of a plan of action
and several times thought about turning around. If it wasn’t for the fact that I
would have to find a secluded place to park for a few hours to let the time pass
I probably would have gone home.
I parked the car just outside Georges address. He lived in a really well maintained bungalow with flower baskets and picket fences, the works. It felt welcoming immediately.
I walked up the path to the door and gently tapped it. Wild barking followed. George didn’t tell me he had dogs. Why would he? Not the sort of thing you would discuss whilst chatting about whether or not swallowing cum seemed ok or not.
George opened the door. He seemed a lot older than the years he had confessed to, and certainly a lot more portly than the picture he had sent me.
He smiled at me and without saying a word beckoned me in whilst trying to
hold back the tiny dogs than were still barking and wrestling with him to get at
As I walked past him, dread filled me. What on Earth was I doing here? All I could see in my mind was my wife’s face. Fifteen years of marriage to a wonderful woman were torturing me.
“Would you like a drink?” George asked.
“Yes please, Tea”, I responded. What an idiot I was. George obviously meant an alcoholic drink, but the moment took me by surprise and tea was the first thing I could think about.
As George offered me a seat I took the opportunity to look at him properly.
He was wearing grey pleated trousers, a worn green cardigan and a pair of
slippers. Hardly the seduction outfit I was expecting. His hair was grey and
thinning and although his face seemed really well maintained, the spectacles he
wore looked like something a vicar would wear on the end of his nose during a
He must have been gone for a good five to ten minutes. I looked around the room. Pictures of people in ornate frames appeared everywhere and hardly an inch of the walls lay uncovered with a lifetime’s collection of bric ‘n’ brac.
George returned to the room. He was carrying a tray of cups with sugar and milk on the side. Thankfully he was dogless.
He placed the tray on the coffee table and sat next me. So close he was
practically on sitting on my lap. My left leg was hard against his right leg,
and out of instinct I moved it away.
“How are you feeling?” He asked “Nervous?”
“You could say that, George” I said.
“Actually it’s Henry,” He replied
Now I was confused. “Sorry… Henry?” I questioned.
“Yes, I never call myself by my real name on line, it’s just a bit of a risk with the location there” he added
Not helping my nerves I thought. Shit, what if someone realises that Richard
from the midlands is me… I took a deep breath and just thought how unlikely that
was. Stop panicking I told myself.
“Do you want to watch a DVD to get in the mood” George asked
The way things were going it was more likely that I would pop out of the window and run home before I let this guy pop anything of mine. “Good idea, George” I replied. “Henry, I mean” I added.
George or Henry or whoever got up and headed toward the TV set. The TV set looked like something you would see on the commercials during Starsky and hutch from the 80s.
He inserted the DVD and returned to the sofa. Again he was practically
crushing my left leg as he took his seat next to me again. The DVD started
running and two guys who were definitely extras from Starsky and Hutch appeared
on the screen.
On the DVD, the first guy was undressing the second and as he pulled the tight T shirt from the thin moustachioed hippy he started kissing the hippie’s nipples. This is quite hot I thought.
I felt George shift a little and brush his right arm gently against my left. As I turned to see what George was doing the movements from him seemed a lot heavier. Oh my god He was undoing his fly. I sat there now seriously thinking about running away, but it was too late. George or Henry had by now taken out his cock and was gently rubbing it.
What an ice breaker. A familiar stirring started in my groin.
I see her everywhere, it's like she's forever torturing me with her unattainable body...
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