I write to you to recount a recent encounter of a most surprising but agreeable nature, my first foray into gay sex.
My innate awareness of my natural talents (I am a genius) resulted in some of our previous neighbors finding me arrogant. My dear wife Katie was determined to stave off similar problems in our new neighborhood, and has been having small dinner parties so everyone one might get to know me better, and appreciate my softer side.
I had seen the most recent couple from a distance, and knew they were of different races, the man Caucasian, the wife either a light-skinned black woman or an Islander or something. My dear wife forbade me to ask, saying such natural questions are often misinterpreted.
We had a most pleasant evening. Katie prepared an excellent meal and the conversation was sparkling and lively, as this couple are both very intelligent, if not quite up to my level. (But then, so few are. They did come quite close.) We separated after drinking our coffee, the ladies to the kitchen, and I took the husband, John, to the garage, which functions as my laboratory and workshop, for I am both a scientist and an inventor.
For the first time that evening, I began to wonder about John's intelligence as I showed him around the garage and described my experiments. He looked flushed and a little dumb and kept standing so close to me I would almost trip over him.
To my surprise, he grabbed my face while I was in midsentence and began kissing me. He is a few inches taller than me, and leaner, but very strong and muscled. Shock held me in place for a few moments, until I absorbed the softness of his lips. I had noted their pouty shape earlier in the evening but had not considered how very excellent they would feel again my own thinner ones.
I began kissing him back, his mouth more delicious than I would have ever thought to imagine a man's could be, and my dick hardened. For being such a new realm to me, gay sex was appetizing from the very first taste. I could feel his hands between our bodies as he undid my pants, and he dropped to his knees with a nimbleness most men our age couldn't duplicate.
My cock leapt from my fly as he spread the front of my pants wide. His eyes, a gorgeous green darkened by lust, sought permission, and I whimpered in agreement. You may wonder, dear Penthouse, how I can confess to allowing such activity to occur with both our wives in the house. I can only plead for understanding, that no man can easily refuse any blowjob, much less one from such an attractive individual, and that my dear wife had lectured me sternly about not antagonizing the neighbors by being difficult.
So I was exceedingly cooperative, remaining stock still as John's hot mouth closed over my sturdy shaft. I swear that he did not stop until he had swallowed all eight inches of my cock, which is very thick and round. My wife can barely take half its length, but John was a veritable blow job master. I was so far down his throat I knew he should choke, but he didn't look uncomfortable, only blissed-out from pleasure, as if my meat was his drug of choice.
My hands curled into his hair, full and silky and fortunately so wild I didn't have to fear messing up his hairstyle and risking discovery, if any such petty concerns had been anywhere near my mind. I played with his hair, stroking his head, and he purred in the back of his throat, the sound rumbling around my sensitized and extremely happy dick, as his head bobbed back and forth, teasingly releasing me to the cool air before his lips covered my sword again.
Experimentally, I thrust forward as he was withdrawing, and he moaned, a sound filled with even greater satisfaction than his purr, as if he loved having a dick shoved down his throat. I had never thought that a man could be cock-hungry, but I am always happy to learn new information.
To my dismay, he pulled away entirely, the breaking of suction making a loud wet pop. His lips were shiny with saliva and pre-come and I wanted them back where they belonged, devouring my dick. His next words halted my instinct to grab his head and forcefully make myself at home in his mouth.
"I want you to fuck me. Please, Christ, will you fuck me?"
Not believing in the babbling nonsense that is religion, I try to avoid making references to it. But now I found myself muttering desperately, "God, fuck, yes. I don't know how but I want to fuck you so bad."
He rose with agility. He'd mentioned being in the Air Force, and I could tell he was still in top physical condition. "Do you have lube? Hand lotion? Anything?"
"Wait here," I ordered. Holding up my pants, I dashed to the bathroom connected to the garage, and grabbed the hand lotion by the sink.
When I returned to the garage, John was braced with his hands on my workbench. His jeans and boxers were down to the ground and he'd kicked one foot loose, the better to widen his stance. Above his white sneakers, his ankles appeared ridiculously fragile. His legs were hairy but where his t-shirt had flipped up, I could see his back was as smooth and golden as his pert butt, no sign of a tan line, and I wondered where he sunbathed. It would be a sight worth watching. I would have to remember to offer him some of my homemade sunscreen for protection.
"What do I do?" I asked, positioning myself between his legs and letting my pants and boxers drop to my knees.
"Use a lot of lotion. Stick one finger in. Stretch the muscle."
Following instructions, I slipped my finger into his tight hole. "I don't want to hurt you," I fussed.
"Then don't be a pansy dorking around and making me wait," was his somewhat impatient, growled response. "Fuck me. I need your big dick in my ass."
His words excited me even more, so I yanked out one finger, inserting two together and making a scissoring motion. His channel was warm and smooth, clinging to my fingers like a lover, but gradually it widened until I could add a third finger. He breathed harshly, his muscles bunching and releasing as he shivered faintly the whole time I worked on preparing him. Finally I decided he was as ready as either of us could bear.
Removing my fingers, I plunged my full length in, slowly but firmly, not stopping until my balls made a pleasing slapping noise against his ass. I held onto his hips with all my strength, not allowing him to move. He swore at me for imprisoning him but only because he wanted to shove back and take me faster, which I refused to permit. Neither my lack of knowledge nor his recklessness would cause him hurt.
Though I'm not a great athlete, my stamina is considerable. I fucked him patiently, steadily, determined to enjoy every moment, burning the sense memory into my brain. His ass surrounding my erect shaft felt even more pleasurable and intense than his mouth. Truly, I cannot say which aspect of him I enjoyed more. His mouth had the advantage of exposing his rapturous facial expression to my eyes, but his ass was deliciously tight, and allowed me to kiss and lick at the nape of his neck, and brush my face on his silky hair.
I released one hip to reach around for his dick, which was a bit thinner than mine but longer and slightly curving. For the first time in my life, I wondered what it would feel like to have such an organ in my own ass, which is undoubtedly one of my finest physical features, being round and shapely. His cock was stiff and leaking, and I jacked him to the same unrelenting beat of my fucking, his own pre-come easing the gliding of my fingers.
He continued to swear at me, coarse, needy curses and pleas. "Come on Rodney, do me. Do me hard. Fuck me. God, your dick. Fuck me," and other such repetitive but inspiring phrases.
Alas, my desire to draw out the pleasure, to fuck him endlessly, couldn't last forever. I could feel my balls tightening, my dick throbbing with the need for release, and I abandoned my iron control, plunging in and out and fisting him wildly, savagely, biting down on his shoulder to muffle my yell of triumph. He still wore his black t-shirt and I might have regretted not stripping him completely so I could taste his skin, except I was coming so hard, all my thought processes were completely fried and I felt the top of my head might explode. Every drop of my come shot into his sweet ass, filling him full, as his come drenched my hand and splattered on the miscellaneous bits of equipment under the workbench. His scream of my name was loud and quite satisfying to my ego, I must confess.
"Christ," I swore, backing away when my higher brain functions worked again. We stumbled to the bathroom and cleaned up, restoring our appearance. Neither of us had words for what had happened, but we shared a last, lingering kiss, before returning to the house. Fortunately, our wives didn't seem to have missed us. We sipped after dinner drinks and made more light conversation until John and his wife left to walk home and my wife and I retired to our bedroom.
As we cuddled under the covers, I confessed my sin to my dear wife. I feared her reaction but we have always been honest and I doubted my ability to dissemble if she asked any questions about what I had shown John in the garage. The evening continued to be surprising, as she giggled, and confessed that she and Teyla had engaged in similar activities in the kitchen. She whispered so many naughty and salacious details that despite being in my mid-30s and having come barely an hour earlier, I fucked her like a champion racehorse mounting a fresh young mare. She came screaming my name and digging her fingers so fiercely into my buttocks that I was left with ten perfectly shaped crescents gouged into my skin.
We resolved to put aside the plan to meet all the neighbors and decided to invite John and Teyla again next Saturday night. We have not yet decided whether to repeat the same experience, or switch partners, or try to engage all together. I crave the sensation of John's tight ass around my cock again, but Katie tells me Teyla is like a wild tigress and sure to appreciate the thickness of my shaft and my great stamina.
But whatever we decide, dear Penthouse, that shall be a letter for your next issue.
Dr. M.R.M., Phd., Phd.