I’ve posted in the forums about male friends who, later in life, have experimented with bi- play. I never push them–but I make it clear it’s not an issue with me. Having that “permission” seems like a huge factor when they work up to M/M play during group sessions.
So here’s a tale based on one of the guys I introduced in my “Nan” stories and written from his perspective.
Yes–there’s M/M bi- play!! In fact, that’s pretty much the whole point!!
If that’s not your cup of tea–give this one a pass. As always, I’ll love hearing from you, gentle readers!
Kisses and nibbles,
Val
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I looked past Jimmy’s stiff cock and focused on Kathy’s face. She was watching me intently and grinning to beat the band.
I let him slide back out of my lips and nudged his dick over toward her. Kathy kept eye contact with me while she took him in her mouth. I mean, she took him ALL the way in her mouth and then slowly down her throat.
Jimmy moaned.
She throat fucked him a few strokes and backed off. She pointed his dick back toward me and raised her eyebrows expectantly.
“Just take it slow,” she whispered, “it’ll be fine.”
This was new territory for me! We’d talked about this, and I’d practiced deep throating with a Polish sausage. I was pretty sure I could handle the real thing but I was feeling some butterflies over letting the girls talk me into this.
Nan stopped sucking my dick, replacing her warm mouth with a gentle hand and stroked.
“Are you throating him now?” Nan asked. “I want to watch!”
Jesus–now I was on stage! I’d just as soon have been spontaneous about blowing Jimmy, but here we all were, and I wasn’t going to back out now. In fact, butterflies and all, I was pumped at the prospect and hard as steel!
I sucked Jimmie back into my mouth. I thought he might be just a hair thicker than the sausage; I was worried about being able to take him. At least he wasn’t 18″ long like the damned meat stick!!
I pressed his cock head against the back of my throat and took a breath. I tried my best to relax my throat and pushed a little bit. I felt a gag start and reflexively backed away.
“That’s OK, hon,” Kathy cooed, “just take it slow. Maybe just hold it in that spot for a little while.”
“What do you think, Jimmy?” Nan asked her husband.
“Think!?!” Jimmy gasped. “Holy fuck, Nan, I haven’t been able to think for half an hour!!”
The girls had been working both of us into a high state of arousal all evening.
“But he’s doing great,” he added.
I tried again, placing his glans at the top of my throat and holding it there. I could still breathe, and I wondered if I could hum. I tried a bass note.
“Oh, sweet Jesus,” Jimmy cried.
Comfortable with that much dick, and encouraged by Jimmy’s obvious pleasure, I pressed on. Actually, the rest was easy! Once he started down my throat, my chin quickly pressed into his balls and I bobbed up and down for a few seconds before I needed air.
“Good for you, lover!” Kathy cheered me on.
I went back down. I stayed down longer this time. Breathe and repeat–breathe and repeat. I was getting into it!
Jimmy was breathing hard.
“Are you getting close Jimmy?” Nan asked.
“Pretty close,” he grunted.
“How about you,” Kathy asked me as Nan went back down on my needy dick.
I couldn’t speak, but I gave a thumbs up.
I felt Jimmy start to tense up and slid him out of my throat until just his cock head was in my mouth. I squeezed his nuts and sucked hard, flipping his dick with my tongue. Amazingly, I had gone from dreading his cum to being eager for it! Jimmy exploded into my mouth!!
Wow! What a fucking load!
I’d told everyone ahead of time I’d be spitting, but I didn’t! I swallowed it all down and that put ME over the top! Nan drained my balls and, like me, swallowed it all!
Then–the whole mood just evaporated. I got the damned cum conscience, as Nan and Jimmy call it. Or “Post coital dysphoria” as the sex books would say.
I call it the Numb Nutz Blues. It’s that time right after you pop when things that were hot as fuck 3 seconds ago seem repulsive now. Planning to eat your own cum while you’re jacking off, and then being grossed out after you squirt is a good example. It was a good thing Jimmy shot his load first, and fabulous that Nan was still cleaning up my wilting shaft–at least that still felt hot. But the remnants of Jimmy’s cum in my mouth were working on me. I sucked on my teeth and swallowed again.
It’s getting better, the Numb Nutz Blues I mean, but I’ve got a long damned string of hetero thinking that smacks me around when I go bi. This wasn’t my first time with a dick, but it was the first time with Jimmy’s. It was the first time to make a freaking cememony/group project out of it, the first time to take one down my throat, and the first time I’d taken a load in my mouth, much less swallowed one.
I knew I’d get over it pretty soon, and we could all talk about where to escort izmir go from here.
Here.
How the fuck did we come to be here!
How did it become OK, even hot, for me to suck dick!!!
Well, Kathy of course!
Kathy is how I came to be here in this particular spot with my face still inches from Jimmy’s cock and my cum sliding down his wife’s throat.
I eased up from the mattress, kissed Kathy and Nan, and excused myself to the bathroom.
Let me hit “pause” and go back to the “before Kathy” times and then come forward, huh?
I’m pushing 70 now. I’m a Viet Nam vet, been married (twice) and divorced (also twice.) I have some great kids, all grown and gone. I have a pack of energetic and creative grandkids scattered around the country. One of the grands is about to make me a great grandfather. And sucking dick was never, ever, even remotely on my mind until I met Kathy.
I grew up in the 50s and 60s when calling someone a queer and meaning it was about the worst thing you could throw at them. I never worried that I might be one. I scored my first pussy at 14. I had steady girlfriends, mostly on the pill and eager to take advantage of it. One of them wanted me to eat her before she’d blow me which turned out to be a great skill to have later. I actually liked that and got used to pulling pubes out of my teeth.
I screwed around too much in college–literally and figuratively. When it looked like I was on the road to getting drafted, I managed to get into Marine Corps OCS. I had a commercial pilot’s license and some rotary wing time (longer story) so I expected the Marines would stick me in an infantry unit or something just as unrelated to my flying. But in an exceptionally un-military move they fast-tracked me into flight training.
I fucked hookers in ‘Nam and back stateside when there wasn’t time for romancing. Got the clap, got the shots. I was your rootin’ tootin’ horndog–find ’em, fuck ’em and forget ’em. As far as I know there aren’t any unknown Andys or Andreas running around. (Knock on wood!) It’s not a period of my life I’m especially proud of now–but you get the picture; I wanted my dick in every pussy that crossed my path. If a guy had come on to me, I’d have decked him.
I fell in love L-U-V right before basic and married the chick. Yes–that was the mistake you’re guessing it was. At least we didn’t have any kids. I got letters from friends letting me know she was hitting the bars and fucking around even before I got the “Dear John” letter. She’d found herself a coal miner with a high draft number, a big dick and lots of income. My folks got me a lawyer to make sure she didn’t screw me financially and divorce number one was in the books while I flew around in AH-1s blowing shit up.
The 2nd marriage, a year after discharge, was pretty good! Hell, it was near perfect! We met when I went back to finish college. She wasn’t a total babe, but she was plenty attractive and she had a motor that just didn’t quit, you know? She was a wild woman in the bedroom (or back seat, or library, or men’s room!) but stable and organized in all other areas. She was dream lover and as long as we were together I rejoiced that I was with her instead of wife number 1.
We had 3 kids, boom-boom-boom, and did the suburban family, PTA, Scouts, church, soccer stuff. It was a damned good life, really. I had a good career. She renewed her teacher’s license after the kids got to middle school and went back to the classroom. Things were comfortable.
It hurt when she had her first affair, but we mostly worked through it. The 2nd one ended us.
Our youngest was finishing her senior year when her mom left. If there was anything good about that, it was that my daughter and I became very close and still are.
It was a few years before I started dating–3 kids in college at the same time! I was too busy working my butt off! But after the kids were out on their own, I started getting the itch for company.
Honestly, “grown up” dating wasn’t very satisfying.
On one hand, it got my horns trimmed. I was surprised at that! I was gratified that my dad-bod was still “marketable” and that I still enjoyed sex (duh.) But Jesus! Everybody comes with so much baggage now!
I figured out early on that there was a big, BIG difference between divorcees and widows! Divorcees in my age range tended to be sour/defensive/walled off/over compensating in varying degrees. Well, maybe I was too. I was the faithful “dumpee” as were most of them, so we found some common ground to complain but it’s hard to take much pleasure in that.
And although widows by in large were more emotionally available and free from bitterness, they seemed to have a lingering sadness and measured me against what they lost. There weren’t as many of them either until I got toward the end of my 50s.
Finally, I stopped even trying and just concentrated on work, Rotary Club, church, grandkids, jogging and jacking off.
Then along came Kathy.
Wowzer!
About 5 years ago Kathy pulled izmir escort bayan me aside at a church conference and said: “You know, Andy, if you asked me to the symphony, I’d sure enjoy going with you.”
I must have had that “deer-in-headlights” look! Kathy was never really on my radar. She was a long way from unnoticeable, but my radar was defective! Her invitation caught me off guard.
Without asking, I’d assumed she was lots younger than me. Besides, we lived in different cities; she never flirted; she always seemed the consummate church lady; and I assumed she was just your typical spinster.
She was certainly attractive! She was tall, slender, very fit–even athletic I’d say. But she wore a no-nonsense air that seemed to broadcast: “Don’t bother–you’re not my type.”
Holy crap was I ever wrong about that! MOST of that at least!
She’s just two years younger than I am, not 10+ like I’d assumed. And as you can guess from what’s above, she’s absolutely not Dana Carvey’s SNL church lady!
That didn’t become obvious right away.
I did take her to the symphony! And then to a play. And several times to dinner.
She is very, very bright. She has a quick sense of humor. She’s socially graceful. She put me at ease in every situation we encountered and I began to think of her more and more often. I enjoyed all our dates and counted the days until our next outing.
Typical for us, she broke the ice about sex. She waited until I’d kissed her goodnight the first time. As I picked her up for our next date, she put her hand on my chest and donned a serious expression.
“Andy, I need to tell you more than maybe you want to know. It’s not something I’m out about…” she began.
“Out?!? Crap. She’s lesbian, there’s a wasted viagra,” I thought to myself. I’d popped a blue pill “just in case.”
“I like you a lot and if you want to, I’m ready to have sex with you whenever you think the time is right…” she continued.
“Huh? You are?” I thought to myself. “Well yeah I want to. Right now, for instance would be a great time but there’s an “If” coming, isn’t there?” I continued silently.
“But you need to understand I can’t be exclusive with you,” she finished.
I raised my eyebrows and waited.
“I’ve known you long enough to trust you with this. I won’t swear you to secrecy because I know you’ll keep it to yourself anyway.”
She paused for a breath.
“I’m bisexual. I don’t date more than one guy at a time, but I’ve had the same girlfriend since high school,” she went on, “I love her deeply and I’ll be having sex with her until we’re shriveled up old ladies stuck in our wheelchairs. If she and I were just starting out in these times, honestly we’d probably have just gone ahead and married.”
I was momentarily speechless.
“Oh,” I finally stammered. It was all the eloquence I could manage.
“I have another lifelong lover too, but he’s in hospice now. So you think about it for a while, OK? And if it’s an issue, we can just enjoy each other as friends like we’ve been doing. Or if it’s not an issue,” she smiled and wrapped me in a hug, “just tell me when you’d like to spend the night.”
She kissed my cheek and released the hug.
We went to dinner.
The viagra and her invitation to sex did their thing and I had a hardon pretty much the rest of the night! I tried to hide it. I’m sure she noticed, but she didn’t let on.
At the end of the evening I kissed her goodnight again. Unlike the first kiss (sweet and brief) this was a long, deep and lingering. I slid my hands slowly down her back to her firm ass and pulled her tight against me. She couldn’t miss feeling my swollen dick pressing into her through our clothes but she didn’t back away.
“I’ll think carefully about what you said,” I told her, and kissed her again.
“Be sure to think with this,” she said, tapping my forehead, “in addition to this,” and gave my cock a squeeze through my pants.
I jumped like I’d been shot.
She drew a quick breath and looked worried.
“It’s just been a long time,” I explained.
I kissed her once more and drove home. 30 freakin’ minutes! I almost pulled over to jack off before I got in the house! It took about 15 seconds of stroking before I shot a load clean over my head!
I got hard again as I got ready for bed and rubbed out another one!
That night I dreamed of Kathy and her lover, whoever she was. In dreamland they both took turns fucking me and I got off in both of them over and over! (An amazing bit of precognition, as it turned out!) In the morning I realized it was a wet dream. Holy shit! Hadn’t had one of those in forever! And after jacking off twice!
I took the dream as a sign. In the morning I called her and simply said:
“Your place or mine?”
“Mine,” she replied. “Next Friday. I’ll fix us dinner. Do you like oysters?”
“I do, but I’ll bring some viagra for backup.” I laughed.
“Sounds good,” she laughed too, “and listen, if you’re tempted to “manscape” for me, please izmir escortlar don’t. I know it’s all the rage, but I’m just fine with some fur. Do you have any STIs we need to work around?” she added.
God I love this woman. She said it so matter of factly! And not like she was going to screen me out if I’d had something, she just wanted to know if we needed to “work around” anything. I’d been dreading how to bring up the subject and here it was like we were talking about the weather or something.
“I’m tested and clean,” she added, “and I haven’t been with anyone other than my girlfriend in about a year.”
“No tests,” I admitted, “but no symptoms and I’m going on three years with nobody but my right hand for a sex partner.”
Damn! Did I just talk about jacking off? Yes I did! I love being able to talk like this!”
“I’m sure you’re fine,” she said, “but let me give you a number to call and set up a test, OK? It’s really confidential and it’ll make us both feel better.”
Soooo–I got my first clap test since the service. It wasn’t a big deal, and she was right! I felt better knowing for certain my ex didn’t bring me anything from her flings and that my few post-divorce adventures had been as clean as I’d hoped. AND–no rubbers! I’ve been shooting blanks since the kids were in grade school but I hadn’t gone bareback since the divorce.
Waiting for that Friday to come was like being back in grade school during the last week before summer vacation! Time slowed down to a freaking crawl! Each hour took a day, and each day took a week, seemed to me!
Friday FINALLY came. I took the afternoon off from work and went home to shower and pack. I had trouble waiting to leave until my drive would put me there at the right time. Kathy wanted me at her place within a15 minute time slot. Pretty hard holding my speed down too. Can we say “eager?”
As I pulled in Kathy’s drive her garage door was going up and she motioned me into the empty spot. The door was closing again as I got out.
“I’ll explain later,” she said and led me inside.
Turned out her neighbors were ultra fundamentalists and had a bad habit of rushing over to save her from sin if they thought her virtue was threatened by the presence of a man! Mrs. Fundamentalist picked up Mr. Fundamentalist from work the same time every afternoon, 30 minutes round trip. It was their solemn mission to save her and she couldn’t break them of it! So we giggled about hiding evidence of her temptation in the garage and kept the curtains closed! It took me back to high school days and my stealthy adventures with Myrna the Magnificent in her parents’ den!
Kathy was glowing. She wore a sundress–sleeveless and backless. I could see her nipples outlined through the thin cotton, so no bra. As I hugged her, I let my hands slide down to her sweet ass again–no panties either! My dick began to stiffen–and the viagra hadn’t even had time to start yet! I took it as I got into town!
“Dinner will be ready in about a half hour. Drink?” she asked. “I’m in the mood for a gin and tonic. Or I’ve got wine, beer, some whiskys?”
“Gin and tonic!” I exclaimed. “Perfect choice!”
I kept her company as she sliced and squeezed the limes and made our drinks. I loved watching her move, especially in that dress!
She handed me a drink and raised hers in a toast: “To good friends and hot sex!” she grinned.
Have I mentioned how I love this woman’s total lack of inhibition!
“And to your sexy self!” I replied, clinking glasses.
“3 years, huh?” Kathy asked, sipping her drink. “How come?”
“Shallow, boring women, mainly,” I sighed. “After a while sex with them just wasn’t worth being around them socially. And the last one didn’t want me taking viagra. She said if I didn’t enjoy her enough to get it up without a pill, I wasn’t worthy of her.”
“That’s pretty self-obsessed,” she agreed, “and ignorant.”
“I can’t even begin to tell you how refreshing it is to be with you, Kathy,” I raised my glass again. “To you!” I toasted.
“Feeling’s mutual, Andy,” she clinked glasses with me. “I’m glad you waited a while to kiss me. And I’m glad you didn’t wait much longer. Hope I’m not coming on too strong. I don’t let this side of me out in public.”
“I’m flattered you trust me,” I said. “And just wow! You’re smart, nice, and beautiful–and you seem to like me. That’s a deadly combination! I admit it–I’m smitten.”
Dinner was lovely. Afterward, we did dishes together at the sink. When all was put away, she took my hand and led me down to her basement.
Half of the basement was finished, and very cozy–cool and dry. It had a massive couch, a chairside table, a recliner, an antique rolltop desk, and an entertainment center. The walls were real knotty pine planking, and the floor had a thick, plush rug.
“My retreat,” she announced. “Completely soundproof, so lawnmowers and traffic noise can’t get in. I spend lots of hours down here–sometimes writing, and sometimes…”
She opened a drawer next to the couch to display an impressive vibrator–the kind that had rotating beads and a clit massager.
“Sometimes with my little friend…” she continued. “He’s a good guy, but he doesn’t squeeze my ass the way you do! Glad you’re here.”