A Married Man

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TW: Mentions of internalized homophobia, religion, his body was built for this. This sort of talent isn’t nurtured from birth, but a niche skill that only a desperate man would train for. Somewhere in your subconscious, you already knew this would happen. Those longing gazes weren’t lacking in substance, nor were the firm handshakes he offered every time he stopped by your place with more housewarming gifts. His wife said you’d love them.

It was tradition for him to take his new male neighbors out to the bar and share a pint, spilling their guts about the lives they left behind to settle in this simple, suburban town. The rest of the fellas cared more for getting wasted than sharing their stories. You were the only one who took the bait.

“Ahh, a city man through her eyes peering at your neighbor’s disheveled state.

You have a knack for catching when there is tension in the air, and your radar was going off as you sat across from your new friend. He didn’t order any more rounds, but his demeanor suggested that he wanted to. His eyes shifted around for the server, and even when she was clearly in his line of vision, he would just chuckle and return facing front- gazing into your eyes.

“You ever been with a man?” was his question, but he might as well have said, “I know you killed someone,” because your reaction made some of the bar patrons turn their heads.

“What the Hell you getting at?!” It wasn’t like you were angry at the accusation- per say. You’ve been a proud bisexual since you knew being straight wasn’t mandatory. But asking that question in a community you’re not close to is way too risky.

“Don’t sweat it,” your neighbor lazily waved a hand, “I only asked because I have.”

You suddenly felt like a man with a pickaxe, tempted to turn away after nearly being outed in public, but now you just heard that there’s a big pile of treasure behind the final wall you need to break down. You knew something was up with this guy; it was only right to learn more! So, you calmly sank back in your chair, as your neighbor who was so obviously drunk continued his confession.

It started when he was 38. In a hotel room in Vegas. Told his wife it was for some work conference when actually he scheduled a nightly visit with some guy tagging along at a friend’s bachelor party. He looked hot enough; so tall he had to bend down to assure he wouldn’t hit the door frame. Muscles built from years of dedication, with a fashion sense that clashed with your neighbor’s professional appearance.

The stranger locked the door and glared down at the man. “Would you like a drink?” is what your neighbor would’ve asked if he had not been grabbed by the throat. He was dragged to the bed, forced to sit, and in seconds he had come face-to-face with a real life, 10-inch cock. Veins pulsing down the shaft, precum already leaking from the slit. His mouth was pried open by the stranger’s sausage fingers, and God willed him not to cum when the visitor’s thick cock pressed past his pink lips. It slid in quickly but cautiously too, ensuring it wouldn’t press too hard on your friend’s uvula. The stranger closed his eyes and began to thrust, slowly at first, with a record in his throat repeating the words, “Fuck yeah, fuck yeah, fuck yeah…”. Clearly, he did not come for foreplay.

The man you once deemed strait-laced had rubbed his thighs together as he sucked. So this is who I am, he told himself as he accepted the throbbing cock deeper into his throat. He willingly laid on his back so the stranger can crawl on top, and face fuck him into the mattress. His hips gyrated fiercely against your neighbor’s skull, while the rest of his clothed body was constricting from the tension and sweat. The man moaned like a little bitch as the visitor halted to expel his cum down that greedy throat. Load after load dumping out from his heavy balls towards the man’s stomach.

You imagined yourself in that Vegas hotel. Sitting in a chair located in the corner of the room, stroking your length to the man being gleefully assaulted.

“Do you hate me yet?” the man broke you from your fantasy. It was good though; sporting a boner in a crowded bar would’ve made you the town pariah. Plus talking like this, in a place littered with open ears, was not escort taksim smart on the other man’s end. So you leaned forward and told him, “Let’s get outta here.”

The fun didn’t stop once that stranger came down his throat. He left for a few hours only to return with the friends he tagged along with on this trip. It was already so late at night when he came alone, that when he returned with his crew it must’ve been around three in the morning. They were all so huge! Each man took a turn with him. Claiming his ass, drowning that mouth with more semen. His hands couldn’t be at rest when he saw all the dicks he had to service. This wasn’t part of the deal at all, but he didn’t mind.

“Why not?” you asked, begging your painful boner to rest just for a minute. You kept your eyes on the road, driving your neighbor’s vehicle since he was far more wasted.

“Women don’t know how good they have it,” he replied, slouching in his seat, “They grow up being adored by so many guys just for existing. Meanwhile, us men must fight for attention. I’m glad he invited them over. I knew I was still holding back, and that was just enough to break me out of my box.”

Unlike Vegas’ infamous slogan, what happened that night didn’t stay there. Your new friend flew home the following day to reunite to his wife, hugging her dearly before saying hi to the kids. They pestered him about school, and toys they wanted to add onto their Christmas lists. The entire day was testing him mentally, provoking him to snap as his loosened asshole pleaded for another cock to ravage it. He intended on deleting the hookup app by midnight, but he logged on just one more time and swiped right on ten people before bed.

One fucked him in a car in an empty parking lot. Another paid for a motel so they can 69 all afternoon. Your neighbor’s least favorite fella was this 21-year-old named Chase. He tried not to remember names, but Chase wouldn’t let him forget with his hourly text messages. His tight, virgin ass was perfect for the older man to deflower, as before then he had only bottomed. Chase assumed it was love at first fuck, and so he insisted they meet again and again until they were official. The man rambling beside you said that he let the kid down easy, texting him, “I can’t. I’m married” before blocking his account.

Being an undercover whore wasn’t for the faint of heart. There were times the father of two looked at his growing children and wondered if they’d be proud of the parent they had. “I’ll be just like you, Daddy!” his then 8-year-old son said one day. The word “Daddy” was ruined forever as he could only smile at his boy before rushing to the bathroom and letting out a load in the shower, remembering how deliciously Chase moaned that word.

“How ’bout now? Hate me yet?” your neighbor grinned while resting his heavy head against the car window. His detailed excursions were fascinating to listen to, but you were just one man. A man that had no business knowing any of this.

His wife didn’t suspect a thing; as long as he occasionally slept with her and gave great head, then that would put an end to any suspicions. But 11 years of sneaking around wore on his spirit.

His children were both in college, which left him and the missus together more often, uninterrupted- without an escape. She needed him now more than ever with her grief over the empty nest. It was then when he finally deleted all the apps and tried to be faithful to his wife. But then the political convention came.

This neighborhood, perfect as it may seem, did not carry the type of people this guy would consider friends. Like he told you on the way to the bar, you were the only one wanted to talk to him. An eligible bachelor would want to listen to his escapades. That was his belief; he wanted someone to hear his story. Somebody to be wowed at his adventures- and to justify his actions.

“There’s nothing wrong with what we’re doing,” said a man in his hotel room, day 1 of the convention. They laid together, his head on the stranger’s hairy chest. He enjoyed how the dark hairs brushed against his shaven cheek. “We’re still following the word of the Lord by being upstanding men. What we do in private is nobody’s business.”

“Even if we’re cheating on our escort izmit wives?”

The stranger rolled his eyes, sitting up straight so that your neighbor would have to sit up too, and stray away from that broad chest. “Cheating implies we WANT a relationship with other men, but that’s not true. We can fuck and leave without pretty words in between, and that’s not sinful as long as it doesn’t infiltrate our primary lives; the ones we’ve built with the mothers of our children. I look at her every day and never think I’m betraying her, because I know I’m clean. I don’t bring nothing home but the bacon!”

Confident words he said, considering they had just fucked without a condom.

Your neighbor felt like a real sissy as he sat there, blanket over his lap, unsure of what to say to such things. It seemed correct, but he still felt his eyes beginning to water. “So…if your son wanted to fuck other boys, that’d be okay?”

“He don’t need nothing from no man that he can’t get from his woman,” his lover replied, “But I will say this: if that woman happens to rag on him too much, and no other female wants to ease his stress, then I would accept the consequences. Humans crave connection! It’s a crime to hold that back. We’re the ones working all day, providing for the kids, and they can’t bother to give a handjob?”

Your neighbor was 48 at this time; just a year before meeting you. He looked back on this moment fondly, as it was this time as he sat in a hotel bed with stained sheets of semen that he was convinced that he never felt more accepted by anyone. His heart swelled with a light that was diminished long ago as he listened intently to his partner.

All this time he had been staying alive for his family, carrying this weight of guilt, but now he felt like he could be free from that. He had craved freedom so badly; from the time he was 14.

“Heh, you look like a real fag right now,” the stranger smirked, “With all them tears.” he reached over and touched your friend’s face, wiping off a tear with his thumb. Your friend grabbed that hand and pulled it down so that thumb was pressing against his lips. Slowly, he inserted the thumb into his mouth to be licked and sucked by his experienced tongue. His wife would never allow him to be vulnerable like this.

“Ahh, what I said got ya hard?” the stranger bled into a grin. His cock bounced with vigor, “I got something better for you to suck, bitch boy.”

This story concluded right as you parked outside of your neighbor’s garage, knowing his wife’s car was already parked indoors. You helped your friend step out of the vehicle and wondered if he’d ever stop rambling. “Golly,” you said, “Sounds like one crazy night!”

“Do you think I should’ve stopped there?” he said, “Stopped sucking his cock?”

“You should’ve stopped a long time ago.”

“Even if I’m lonely?”

“Huh?”

He repeated his question with greater strain in his voice, lightly gripping at your polo shirt, “I did everything right…”

You glanced up at his beautiful white home, checking the windows. They were all dark. “Okay buddy, do you wanna crash at my place tonight? I don’t think it’s best if your wife sees you this way.”

Your place didn’t look like it’d appeal to a man of his tastes. Everything in his house was immaculate, from the clean carpets to the organized food pantry, even the wooden desks that had no stained rings from soda cans like yours had- you always forgot to put down coasters. A bachelor’s home was a little more dirty, casual, or as your neighbor liked to say, “lived in.”

You turned on the TV and left him sitting on the couch while you got him a glass of water. Two minutes shouldn’t have been enough to have him weeping when you returned- yet there he was. His limbs slack, head thrown back, moaning like a pitiful human. This was the right time to ask if he was okay, but he was clearly not okay, so that question felt redundant. So, you quietly left the glasses of water on the table and held the remote to switch channels.

“…Do you hate me?”

Your jaw clenched. Again with that fucking question.

“No, I don’t. Why do you care?”

The man sat up properly, looking down at his lap, amazed at how he allowed himself escort kağıthane to cry actual tears in front of another man. His eyes were burning, like crying caused an allergic reaction. It hurt to see.

“I hate myself.”

You refused to look him in the eye after he said this. Your skin was crawling with goosebumps from how awkward this night had become. “I love my wife there was no reason you two should’ve referred to each other as friends in the first place. You just moved in three months ago! Before then, you never knew of such insane people like your neighbor, who’d reject their true selves just to keep up a facade. He was quite a devil to want to storm out on you after telling those erotic stories.

“You want me to say what a good man you are? How righteous it is to deny your feelings? Mark my words, those kids know what you’ve done, and they hate you. They hate every part of you. How is it summer vacation, they study one hour away, and they’ve NEVER visited the house?!”

“Fuck off!” your neighbor thrusted his hand forward, inches away from smacking you in the face, but you didn’t budge, “You don’t know what I’ve done to keep my family together!”

“Unless you had a gun to your head, I find it hard to believe you had to fuck those guys. Even so, I’d rather take a bullet than betray my marriage.”

“Fuck you!”

You got in the other man’s face, his innocent appearance dying as he was sweating bullets down his neat hairline. His eyes were manic & pink from crying, and those pearly white teeth grinded against themselves, surely holding back diabolical insults.

“You are a whore. That’s all you’ll ever be,” those words spat too much venom for someone who you thought didn’t fully deserve it. Despite your outrage, you knew that he showed remorse, unlike some people who take their secrets to the grave. He was on step one of the recovery process for closeted homosexuals. There was an underlying reason for confessing all of this to you tonight, not just for validation, but for acceptance.

“Look at yourself. Your pants weren’t that tight before. That cock is screaming for attention.”

The father of two melted to the floor, his back pressed up against the front door that he was about to walk out of. The rage that clouded his vision faded as he let out a soft moan while using his hands to unbutton his shirt.

“No,” you ordered, “Pants first.”

He went on to strip himself waist down, enough to reveal his slutty erection that has been consumed by countless guys. It had been too long since you last had some, that was the only way you could look down at this pathetic man and feel an ounce of attraction. You kneeled, inching closer, and taking a hold of his cock.

“Be honest with yourself,” you said, “You’re a slut.”

“No,” he winced, feeling a tinge of pleasure shoot through his dick. He was a sucker for when guys delicately rubbed the slit of his penis.

“How much sluttier can you get? Letting a man you barely know touch you like this? After screaming in his face, and you still don’t knock his lights out?”

The father pleaded for this to end, but his stiffening nipples said otherwise. You paused your stroking to unbutton his shirt for him, just so you can return to jerking him off. “Ahh…please,” he shivered as your tongue pressed on his nipple, sucking at it gently with occasional bites. Your hand was talented in keeping in rhythm while you tended to his chest.

“I’ll start you off easy,” you whispered against his wet nipple, “Repeat these words: I am gay.”

“Fuck you,” he shut his eyes, turning his head to the side, like that was enough to erase from this reality.

“How about: I am bisexual? Is that better?”

“I’m straight!” he yelped, feeling his balls clenching against his body, “I don’t wanna do this anymore…”

“Then leave,” to stress how much you weren’t holding him against his will, you removed your hand just before he could cum, along with your mouth, and stood up. You even moved a few inches back with your hands clasped behind you, “Go on.”

He sat there, collecting his breath, “How do you expect me to get off?”

“I hear masturbating is a popular nowadays,” you raised your eyebrows with a smile.

He sneered up at you, but he didn’t move his body from the ground. Like a petulant child, he just threatened you with that distressed stare. That was more than enough to bring him to your bedroom. It wasn’t a king-sized suite like his, but the XL twin made for a great excuse to keep you two in proximity.

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