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I’ll start this off with a confession. I’ve been bicurious for over 15 years. It’s always been my dirty little secret which still surprises me because, strangely enough, I’ve never felt any attraction to men. I’ve never looked at a guy and thought, “He’s hot,” or “I’d like to fuck him.” But that all changes when I see a hard cock. There’s something about it that flips a switch in my head that makes me go yes please, and that’s where my fascination lies.
I don’t even know how or when it started. If I had to guess, it’s probably stemmed from the countless hours of porn I’ve watched over the years, seeing so many women being ravaged by a guy with a big cock, getting so much pleasure from it, something about it must have left an impression on me. Or I could just be talking shit and really, I’m just in denial.
Either way at some point, the focus shifted. It wasn’t just about watching a man and a woman fuck anymore. I started wondering what it would feel like to be on the other side of that. At first it wasn’t necessarily to be with a man, but to experience submitting myself to someone who’d dominate me firsthand. It’s a strange fascination, one that seemed to creep up on me, without me even realising it.
I had the opportunity to explore my curiosity very early on in my obsession, but fear got the better of me and I bottled it. I’d met a guy online, and after chatting for a while, we decided to meet up. I remember driving about an hour to where he lives, my mind racing and heart pounding the entire way.
When I picked him up, we made small talk as we drove around, but I could barely focus, my head was all over the place as my nerves crumbled. He wasn’t a badlooking guy. Just under six feet tall, slim, with shaved dark hair that matched mine. He wore glasses, which made him look like a bit of a nerd but other than that he seemed normal. There was nothing intimidating about him, I remember thinking that if things went wrong that I’d easily kick his ass, but nothing about him set off any alarm bells or made me secondguess what I was doing.
Then he asked me back to his house. The closer we got, the more my heart pounded in my chest and the more unsure I was to if I could go through with it. By the time we pulled into the carpark outside his apartment block, I was completely paralyzed. He took off his seatbelt, but as he opened the car door, I couldn’t move. My hands were glued to the steering wheel, my eyes locked forward like a deer caught in headlights. Then in total panic I blurted out that I couldn’t do it.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to do it. For me it was the, oh shit this is it! That threw me. He was fine about it. He just nodded, said “Okay,” shook my hand, and got out of the car.
For fifteen years now, I’ve thought about that night, replaying it over and over in my head, wondering what would’ve happened if I’d just gone inside. What would it have been like? Would I have enjoyed it? Would I have done it again?
Since then, I’ve had several relationships, but the obsession never went away. It’s always been there in the back of my mind, usually manifesting itself whenever I’m bored, lonely or horny.
I have experimented though. I have a secret stash of toys that I use whenever I’m in the house alone, sometimes even when I’m not. Mostly butt plugs but I do have a couple dildos. I’m no size queen, but over the years I’ve slowly worked my way up to a fairly large plug. I’ve also dabbled in a little anal play with some of my partners, but never gone beyond that. It’s mostly something I tend to keep to myself
Except for those nights when I’ve had a drink or two, and my curiosity and horniness bubbles over and, I’ll log onto a gay chatroom, strike up a conversation with some guy. Most conversations fizzle out, but some don’t and before long, I find myself on webcam, legs spread, myself while he watches me and strokes himself. It’s one of those things that when I’m in the moment I absolutely love but as soon as I’ve cum and I close my webcam I’m always conflicted.
Now, at thirtyeight, I’ve pretty much accepted that my fantasy will always be just that. I’m 5’10”, I work out and have a fairly toned body with decent muscle definition, and I’d say I’m fairly good looking. But still, there’s a small part of me that refuses to accept that it’s never going to happen.
Recently, I found myself single again but not by choice. I came home from work one evening, planning to unwind the way I usually did when I had the place to myself, watching some porn and taking care of myself. Her laptop was already on the couch, so I decided to use it instead of grabbing my own.
I opened the browser and her Facebook profile popped up. I didn’t think much of it at first, but then her messages popped up, the first of which was from a guy named Ian, who was someone I didn’t know, saying, “Hey babe.”
I sat there staring at the screen for a second, wondering if this was some kind of misunderstanding or a joke. But before I could process what I’d just read the next message, this time from someone I knew very well. One of my best friends, Mark saying “Hey y.”
At first, I thought it was some sort of a joke, but deep down I already knew. My hands were shaking so much I could barely use the touch pad to click on Mark’s message.
As I scrolled through my fear turned into reality. The messages just went on and on. Some flirty, some suggestive, pictures he sent her and pictures she’d sent him. And finally, the messages of them arranging to meet up, always when I’m at work or at the gym and almost exclusively in my own house. I couldn’t believe it, I wanted to smash the place up and almost did but I had something to do first.
I clicked to open the messages from Ian and found much of the same and more. I thought about posting everything to show everyone she knew all the dick pics and every picture of her tits and vagina. But eventually, calmer heads prevailed.
Instead, I sat there and typed out a new status. ‘Just so everyone knows I’m no longer in a relationship with Simon. I’ve been caught Ian Crossland and Mark Johnson behind his back. Anyone that wants a pic of Ian or Marks shrivelled penises drop me a DM I have loads. You can also have all the pictures of my saggy tits and pussy if you like. My pussy looks like day old deli meat but I don’t mind apparently, I’m happy to share’.
I posted the status and sit back looking at the screen as my hands tremble over the keyboard. Within a minute my phone starts ringing and messages start coming in through messenger and my phone. Almost everyone someone either convinced that she’d been hacked and or showing me with their support.
Just nine minutes later she burst through the front door, with tears already streaming down her face, begging and pleading with me. She tried to explain, to downplay it, but there was no coming back for her. I didn’t let her stay long. I threw her clothes in a few plastic bags and kicked her out.
Within days my little secret came back in a big way. Friday night comes around and after work I go to a friend’s house for a few hours, before heading home a little after eight.
As soon as I get home, I can feel the excitement bubbling away inside my stomach. All I want to do is have a drink, go online and spread my legs for some guy and have fun he watches me fuck myself silly with my biggest dildo. So, without wasting any time, I grab my shower head douche and a little lube, then head straight for the shower.
Less than an hour later I’m at my computer ready to start, I crack open a bottle of beer and log into the gay chatroom I usually visit. But something tonight feels different. As I fill in my username, something pushes me to do something I’ve never done before. For the first time ever, I add my location at the end. It’s a small thing but I can’t help but feel a thrill, knowing someone close by might see it and message me.
The site is chaotic as always, filled with bots spamming nonsense every second, as the screen scrolls at a million miles an hour, but it’s something I’ve gotten used to. I decide the best thing to do is put myself out there and see who comes knocking.
I take a drink from my bottle and type out my details: 38, M, and my location, followed by a simple, “Anyone want to chat?” Then I hit enter. My message appears in the chat but almost instantly disappears lost among all the bots, subs asking for someone to take over their computer and copious amounts of ass and dick pics which is probably mostly just bots too.
I give it a few minutes as I watch the chat intently, my eyes scanning the blur of messages while scrolling through the user list hoping to see if anyone else has put a location in their username who’s nearby. The endless stream of spam makes it hard to focus, and my impatience quickly starts to wear thin.
After a few more minutes of waiting, I grow tired of the silence. I type the same message again and hit enter. This time there’s a brief lull in activity and my message stays on the screen a little longer and I go back to scrolling through the users, my pulse quickening slightly as I wait.
Suddenly, I hear the beep sound, followed by a red dot appearing over the envelope icon in the corner. My heart skips a beat as I quickly click on the message, only to be greeted by what is obviously spam. I roll my eyes and close it, annoyed but not surprised.
As I return to the main chat, the notification sounds again. This time, the username catches my eye: Wetherby42. I know Wetherby well and it’s a place I go with my friends all the time and it’s only about forty or so minutes away by car, which seems a little far at this time of night but it’s an option for the future.
I open the message, and it’s short and to the point: “Hi there. What are you looking for?”
I stare at the screen for a moment, my mind racing as I contemplate how to respond. After a few seconds, I decide to keep it simple but direct. I start typing.
“Hey. Just curious. Thought I’d come on and see who’s about and have a chat, maybe some fun.”
I hit send and wait. A minute goes by slowly as I wait his response, struggling to understand why he’s taking so long to reply.
Then, after what feels like forever, his reply pops up: “Cool, what you into?”
I pause for a second, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. I don’t just want to go straight in with can I cam for you. So, I decide to write something casual.
“I don’t know really. I’m new to all this and just a bit curious that’s all.”
“What do you mean new to this?” Comes his reply.
“I’ve never been with a guy before and I’m curious as to what it would be like,” I reply.
“Cool, that’s fine we all start somewhere. Have you done anything with a guy before?” He replies.
“I met up with a guy years ago but bottled it. Other than that, nothing other than camming on here,” I reply.
“What do you do on cam?” He replies.
I can’t help but smirk, impressed by how smoothly he’s turned the conversation toward camming.
“I usually fuck my ass while watching him wank,” I type, letting the words hang there for a moment before hitting send. I sit myself forward expectantly as I place my hand on my cock.
“What do you look like?” He asks.
“5’10”, athletic build, short brown hair, 6inch cock uncut. How about you,” I reply.
“Nice, I’m 6’2″, average build, short back and sides brown hair, 7.5inch cock uncut.”
“Cool,” I reply, unsure of what to say next.
“Ever consider giving meeting up another try?” He replies.
I feel my heart start to beat a little faster as I hesitate, unsure of how honest I should be with him.
“Not really, I don’t know what I’d do if I did it again. I’m not even 100% sure that I’d even like it or even go through with it. Like I said I’m curious.”
“That’s fine, I was the same when I first realised I liked guys. You could just give it a go and if you didn’t like it, you could just stop. No pressure,” he replied.
I can’t help but be tempted at the thought of finally doing it. He makes it sound so easy, like there’s nothing to be worried about.
A minute passes before another message pops up, “If you were here, I’d have you strip off in front of me, get down on your knees, and put my dick in your mouth. I love to watch a guy’s cock get hard as he blows me as he slowly realises, he loves cock.”
His directness catches me off guard, but it’s exactly what I’ve been fantasising about for years. As I sit there, I can feel my cock throbbing, and standing at full attention. It’s almost too tempting, and as I stare at the screen contemplating what to respond with, my stomach buzzing with excitement.
After a minute or so another message pops up, “Up to you, no pressure. All you can do is try it and if you don’t like it just put your clothes on and go home, I’ll understand.”
I’m almost convinced but I just can’t bring myself to agree. But one things for certain my curiosity is ablaze.
“What would happen if I did like it?” I finally type on my keyboard before clicking enter.
“If you like it then the next thing, I’d do is bend you over and eat your ass and if you like that then I’ll fuck you. I love breaking in virgins. Don’t worry though I’ll be gentle, I want you begging to come back for more.”
I’m trembling with excitement as my heart pounds inside my chest. I don’t think I’ve ever been turned on as much as I am right now. All I can think is say yes but my fingers just won’t type the words.
Then I see the screen scroll again as another message comes in, “What’s your phone number?”
Without thinking, I type my number into the chat box and hit enter. The second I do, a surge of adrenaline rushes through me. What did I just do?
Before I can secondguess myself, my phone buzzes on the desk next to me. I grab it, trembling nervously as I unlock the screen. A new message icon flashes. I tap to open it to find he’s sent me his address.
For a moment, I just stare at it in fear, before another message comes through, “You coming?”
I hesitate for just a moment, but almost as if on autopilot, I type “yes” and hit send.
“Oh shit, what did I just do? I exclaim as I bring my hands to my mouth.
My head begins to spin as I scan around the room, trying to steady myself, as I realise that this is might really be happening.
I look down at myself, all I’m wearing is a pair of shorts and a tshirt. I can’t even think about what to wear. What do you wear? But then it hits me, it doesn’t really matter. The first thing he wants me to do is strip anyway, so I decide to stick with what I’ve got on. No point overthinking it now.
I rush downstairs and grab my coat, my body quaking from the adrenaline coursing through me. I take my keys from the side table, and before I can secondguess myself, I rush out of the door.
It’s a chilly autumn night and as I sit myself in my driver’s seat the cold radiates through my shorts. For a second, I pause, my finger inches away from the stop/start button. It’s all becoming too real now.
My brain begins to hit me with a thousand questions a second. What are you doing? Are you really doing this? Is this really what you want? What if you hate it? You’re not even gay!
I try to justify my next move. Just start the car, go for a drive and see how you feel. You could always turn around and come home.
I press the button and my car instantly comes to life. I take out my phone, open his message for his address then open my satnav. I type his address in and the route appears on the screen I type out a quick message: “On my way, about 45 minutes,” and hit send before my nerves get the better of me.
With a deep breath, I put my car in gear and pull off my driveway.
“Fortyfive minutes to decide if this is really what I want,” I say to myself.
The miles seem to blur together as I drive, just like the streetlights overhead as I race along with a mix of excitement, nerves, and doubt all swirling in my head. Time and time again I catch myself speeding and have to slow down but no sooner than I stop focusing on my speed, my foot instinctively presses down on the accelerator again.
Before I know it, I’m turning onto his street, my heart pounding in my chest as I crawl along at a snail’s pace, scanning the numbers on the doors. I take my phone out to double check the address and see another message from him. “Pull into the car park next to the community centre. I’m in the flat above the old bank.”
I look up and see the old bank and I realise I’m already there. I turn off the road and into the carpark, the tires crunching softly against the gravel as I pull into a bay at the opposite end to the old bank. Everything is eerily quiet, there isn’t a soul to be seen in any direction. I switch off my car and sit in silence as I begin to feel the weight of the moment weigh on me.
“Last chance,” I say to myself as I turn my head to look towards the side of the old bank.
The building is dark, there’s a door with a window but it’s in darkness. Maybe he’s not home I think to myself. It could’ve just been someone pranking me. I open my car door and step out closing it behind me. I turn and rest against my car placing my arms onto the roof.
The silence around me is palpable, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze. I look around halfexpecting someone to emerge from the shadows. I can’t help but feel uneasy as I contemplate what to do next. Should I knock? Or should I jump back in the car and go home?
Suddenly the window is filled with light, then a few seconds later the door opens and I see the silhouette of a man in the doorway. I’m fifty yards away but I know he’s looking my way. With a brief sniffle I remove my hands from the roof of my car feeling the cold metal slip away as I bow my head to look at the ground as I slowly walk his way.
As I approach, I can make out more details of his figure, a lean build, but with a small pot belly. I swallow hard, trying to force my heart back down my throat as my nerves almost get the better of me.
“Alright?” he calls out, his voice slightly raspy.
I take another deep breath as I try to steady myself, before clearing my throat.
“Alright?” I mutter back.
As I step into the light, I begin to make out more of his face. He’s not a badlooking guy, in fact, he looks perfectly normal, which oddly helps put me at ease. Clean shaven, well groomed, short back and sides as described with a slight quiff at the front. He’s wearing some grey sweatpants and a plain white tshirt.
“Come in,” he says, while backing away from the door and motioning me inside.
As I step into the door way, I catch my foot on the doorframe and stumble forward awkwardly, barely managing to catch myself by pressing a hand against the wall opposite.
“Whoa, you alright?” he asks.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I mutter, as I let out a nervous laugh. “Actually… to be honest with you I’m actually shitting myself.”
“Don’t worry, man,” he says in a reassuring manner. “”The first time’s the toughest. Try not to overthink it. Like I said online, if you don’t want to do it, don’t. If something doesn’t feel right, just say stop. You know where the door is.”
“I honestly don’t even know what I’m doing here,” I admit, as the nerves creeping back up.
He gives me a small, understanding smile.
“Look… why don’t you just come up and relax for a few minutes? No pressure. See how you feel,” he says.
He gestures towards the stairs, and though I’m still unsure, I climb the first step then the next. Before I know it, I’m in the living room, standing awkwardly in the doorway. I stand there and look around. The room is softly lit by a couple of lamps in opposing corners of the room, wood flooring underfoot and a large TV dominating one wall. There’s a coffee table in front of a sofa which sags slightly in the middle, clearly showing its age. Apart from the sofa everything else looks fairly new and well kept.
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