You hear me come in the door and call out letting me know that you're in the bedroom. Sitting up in bed, you wait for me to come to you. It's late on a Saturday night and I was having a 'Girl's Night Out' with some friends from work. Walking into the bedroom, I smile and stroll over to kiss you. Though I have a slight taste of liquor on my breath, I'm not drunk.
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The Sunday session is tradition in Australia. After two days of relaxation the young and the young at heart head for their favourite watering-hole to cap off the weekend before returning to the grind of the working week. I was in town on business for a couple of weeks, I’d come alone leaving Caz, my wife 1 600 Km away. My usual outlet for my excess sexual urges was not on hand, If you’ll pardon the pun, so I sought an alternative. This was acceptable to Caz as long as it didn’t involve women and she was told all the ‘dirty details’.
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Part 1
I had never in my life had a wet dream before and so it came as a shock, albeit, a pleasant one when I awoke to find my underwear completely drenched in the sticky substance. My penis still very hard and covered in the moist liquid.
"Wow, that must have been one hell of a dream" I thought.
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My mobile rang so I picked it up. It wasn't a number I recognised. 'Hey you, it's Luke. Remember me?' The voice on the other end was deep and sexy. I remembered all right. Still it had only been two days.
There I was innocently minding my own business meeting my friends for a week night drink and game of pool. Then there he was, the barman.
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Hair: black, long, straight as the trajectory of sinking moon on a hot summer night. Face: young, narrow eyes, stubbled, tanned by the sun of unwholesome lusts. Chest: narrow, hard, graven like pale stone. Jeans: faded, ripped, packed full where it matters.
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"Hello, you must be Shayne. I'm Mr. Caldwell's boy, Jerome. Come on in. I'll take your bag to your room. He's out beyond the great room, in the pool. Go on back."
With that welcome, I entered the world of Ted Caldwell, retired supposed master spy, the man I'd been sent to the New Jersey shore to interview over the weekend for Spy magazine.
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I can't believe what I've become. Six months ago I was your run-of-the-mill middle-aged husband and father, a boring, suburban guy with a nice house, a good job, a bad golf game, and a hard-on for the neighbor's teenage daughter. Actually, not much of that has changed other than what gives me a hard-on these days; no longer is it the seventeen year old next door in her skimpy bikini, sunning herself by the pool on weekends.
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When I awoke in the early morning I was feeling horny, still pleasantly excited from the previous evening and wasn't surprised to feel my erection pressing hard against the shorts I was wearing. The latter part of the previous evening had been spent drinking and talking to Bob and Tony about anything else that came to mind but mainly sex.
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"You have an admirer baby," my wife said as we sat together in a gay bar. She smiled at my admirer and he made his way to the empty seat at the bar beside me. Carole had convinced me to come to a gay bar with her so we could fulfill a long time fantasy of hers. She had always wanted to have a threesome with two guys but she wasn't interested in the other guy.
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You guys know when you go for your annual physical and the last thing the doc does is bend you over the exam table and run his finger up your ass to check your prostate? It's the kind of thing that keeps a lot of guys from getting a physical, right? Well, it can also be the kind of thing that changes everything.
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