A New Flame
by Robert Furlong
It was after yet another failed attempt at lovemaking that things really changed between my girlfriend Debbie and me.
Until then, Debbie’s interest in the lower half of my body had been lacklustre to say the least. She complained that I needed sex too often, that I came to bed too sweaty or that the head of my cock stunk like a gents’ urinal when I pulled my foreskin back. Failing that, she’d say my hard-on was too large to slide up inside her, my bollocks were off-putting the way they slapped against her legs or that my hairy arse-crack was making her bedsheets stink as ripe as the back of my day-old briefs.
I knew that her problem was with me rather than the sex. I’d noticed a modestly-proportioned vibrator tucked away in her bedside drawer so it was clear that it was towards my much longer and thicker cock she had developed an aversion.
I don’t remember which excuse it was on this particular evening. I just remember climbing off her, feeling embarrassed that my huge nutsack was straining with a heavy load of semen that wouldn’t see release until I was locked away in her bathroom the following morning.
After numerous apologies about being unable to satisfy me and just as many over-used assurances from me that it didn’t really matter, Debbie chose to confront the elephant in her bedroom that we’d both been avoiding.
“You don’t seem as interested in sex as you used to be,” she said, hooking the straps of her pink passion-killer nightie back over her shoulders.
“Well, you’re not exactly gagging for it,” I joked, pulling on a freshly-laundered pair of pyjama bottoms I’d brought with me. When I stayed over, she insisted I brought clean nightwear to sleep in to avoid tainting her sheets.
“I’ve never been that keen,” she shrugged. “But you used to want intimacy every time we met.”
“I guess I’m slowing down a bit in my old age,” I smiled. I was only forty-two and my sex drive was, in reality, showing no signs of diminishing.
“I wouldn’t blame you, Robert, if you wanted to… you know… start seeing other women.”
I looked over at her, one arm poised halfway into my pyjama top. “What do you mean?” I asked, knowing full well.
“I cherish our friendship… our companionship,” she explained. “But I would understand fully if you wanted to seek sex from a more… er… responsive woman.”
“That’s never even crossed my mind,” I said, truthfully. “I’m in a relationship with you… it would feel wrong to me to start something with another woman just because you’re not into sex as much as I am.”
“But that’s the crux of it, Robert,” she asserted. She insists on calling me Robert even though I much prefer Rob. “You’re not ‘into sex’ any more… just now when we were… together… you didn’t even develop a full erection.”
That was certainly true, but I’d figured she would be pleased. She seems to find the sight of my hard-on distasteful and perhaps even threatening at times.
“I’m just tired,” I said. “It’s been a busy week at work.”
“It’s more than that, though, isn’t it?” she asked. “You’re not as persistent about sex as you used to be… you’re not so willing to try to different things to get me in the mood…”
I was going to quip, as if only half-serious, that even the most inventive sexual imagination runs out of ideas eventually. But then I decided it might be time to be truthful with her about my sexual appetites. After all, she’d willingly offered for me to take other women as lovers on the side. The reality of what I was doing to relieve my over-active sperm production would surely come as a relief compared with that.
“Okay, Debbie,” I said, fastening the buttons on my pyjamas and preparing to get into bed alongside her for what I assumed was going to be the latest in a long line of celibate stopovers. “If you really want to know, I’ll tell you how I keep my sex drive in check. Whatever I say, though – no matter how unconventional it seems – I don’t want you to freak out and make a big deal of it.”
“I told you, Robert,” she shrugged. “I don’t mind if you’re seeing other women… I’d understand. As long it’s just a sexual thing.”
“I’m not seeing other women,” I told her, emphasizing the word ‘women’.
“If it’s something masturbatory… a blow-up doll maybe -”
“I am seeing other people for sex,” I cut in. “It’s just that they’re not women.”
“Not women…? Then… what exactly is it you’re doing?” she asked.
“Look,” I said, sitting down on her bed. “If this comes as a big shock, just promise you won’t throw me out. I’ve had a few drinks and I won’t be able to drive ’til the morning.”
“I’m not going to throw you out, Robert, no matter how weird it seems to me. I just want to understand. I promise you.”
“I’m having sex with other men,” I confessed.
“Other men?” she repeated, her eyes initially unable to understand what I meant. Then it dawned her what her boyfriend might be getting up to and she asked, hesitantly, “What… you mean… er… gay sex?”
“No,” I replied. “It’s not ‘gay’ as such because there’s nothing emotional in it. I don’t form relationships with men the way you and I have something special going on. I just meet up with other like-minded guys on an occasional basis purely for mutual relief.”
I was trying to make it sound ordinary and everyday and not at all a big deal, even though I knew full well it was.
“You have sex with men?” she queried. “Full sex… I mean, your bodies connected?”
“Yes,” I admitted, “but I always use protection.”
“You actually penetrate them?” she persisted, incredulously. “Your penis… having intercourse with them… up their bottoms?”
“Among other things,” I nodded. “But it’s just a way of us both achieving climax… there’s nothing in it more than that, I assure you.”
“Like men in prison?” she asked.
“Exactly!” I said, forcing an uneasy smile. “Or blokes in the navy. Just using the grip of another man’s bum because it feels considerably better than your own hand.”
“And I’ve driven you to that?” she asked, looking more annoyed with herself than angry at me; not at all the way I’d expected her to react. “My unwillingness has driven you to use other men’s behinds as a way of… well… masturbating…?”
“I started doing it a short while before I met you,” I reassured her, even though I was unsure of how the dates coincided exactly. “But I’ve started indulging a lot more recently… since you’ve become more reluctant…”
“Do you… kiss them? The men you’re… er… having relations with.”
“Not usually, no,” I acknowledged, wondering if it was a good sign that she was asking questions. Her face became more settled and her eyes less upset; it was difficult to know how charitably she was viewing my venture into homosexual couplings.
If this was to be the end of things of things for us, I was ready to accept that. I liked her company and it was good to go out on dates with such an attractive woman, but the lack of a sexual flame between us was slowly stifling our relationship.
Eventually she asked, “So you just… well… do your thing and then… er… relieve yourself into a condom up inside them?”
“That’s the top and bottom of it,” I nodded, allowing myself a more genuine smile at the pun I knew she wouldn’t get.
“And is it always different men?” she asked, sitting down on the opposite side of the bed and remaining difficult to read in her lack of emotion.
“I have a few guys who I meet up with from time to time, but a lot of my… er… encounters are just one-offs.”
“How often do you do it?”
“Whenever I feel horny,” I said. “So pretty often.”
“Did you do it today… before you came over? Is that why you weren’t fully aroused?”
“I did, yes.”
I’d had a very pleasant sojourn with a market trader in the gents loos at the town square. He’d given me the eye as I’d passed his stall and then followed me into the toilets where we’d locked ourselves into a cubicle. After rimming what had turned out to be a very flavoursome backside, he’d squatted on the toilet seat facing the cistern so I could stand behind him to silently do my business using the tight clench of his rectum. In return I’d brought him to climax with my mouth and had then bought the most expensive mobile phone cover from his stall for which I had absolutely no use.
“How do you meet these men?”
“It varies,” I shrugged. “Sometimes opportunities just sort of present themselves… some guys are friends of friends. A few I meet through a website for men like me.”
“Men like you?” she asked.
“Men who don’t identify as gay but who enjoy having sex with other males. Sex with no strings attached. No dating, no romantic stuff… just occasional hook-ups for the sake of mutual release.”
She nodded and stared over at the mirror on her dressing table, deep in thought.
“Have I upset you?” I asked her.
“What? No, not at all. As I said at the beginning, Robert, I fully understand your need to seek intimacy elsewhere. I just hadn’t expected it to be with your own gender.”
“Does it disgust you?”
“Disgust me?” she smiled. “Of course not. Quite the reverse, actually. I’m intrigued by how it must look… a big masculine guy like you doing another man up the bum…”
Now I was surprised. In spite of her assurance, part of me had expected to be kicked out of her house in an explosion of name-calling and having to call a taxi on my mobile, wondering how the hell I was going to retrieve my car in the morning without a further confrontation.
“I suppose it looks pretty much as you would imagine,” I smiled back. “Not the prettiest of sights but it gets the job done.”
“Do you mount your male partners in the typical gay position?” she asked. “The other man bending over with you upright behind him?”
“I find that works best,” I nodded, hoping that her interest was indeed genuine. “I don’t think of it as ‘the gay position’, though. It just happens to be the most comfortable way for two men to have anal sex.”
“Anal sex…” she mused, repeating the term curiously. “I’ve always viewed that as something crude… but now the thought of you ‘indulging’ as you put it… having to gratify yourself in such a seedy way…”
“It’s not especially seedy,” I smiled. “It’s just a somewhat intimate arrangement between two like-minded men.”
“Show me,” she commanded. “Get on the bed and show me how you do it.”
I chuckled. “You don’t really want me to, do you? There’s not a lot to show you – it’s just as I described it to you. Two men having sex and both facing forwards.”
“Let me see how you do it, Robert,” she urged me. “I want to understand why you enjoy it so much.”
“I’d feel silly!” I giggled. “The other bloke just gets on all-fours… I kneel down behind him and… well… do my thing in and out of his bum until I’ve emptied my balls…!”
“It’s important to you, though, isn’t it?”
I nodded. “I suppose it is, as a means of achieving release. I’d prefer sex with you, of course, but since you’re so rarely in the mood -”
“If it’s important to you, Robert, then it’s important that I understand it,” she argued. “I want to know what you like about it… why it turns you on so much…”
“Okay,” I chuckled, climbing on the bed to show her – as if it were necessary – how I kneel down to anally copulate with my regular male hook-ups.
“Oh, come on, Robert!” she laughed. “You’ve got to take off your pyjamas! You can’t tell me that you have sex with other men in your pyjamas!”
I laughed. One guy I’d met insisted we both wore our pyjamas during sex – our erections arching upwards from the gaping flies and the backs of our pyjama bottoms pulled down far enough to allow for penetration – to relive the after-lights-out fun he’d enjoyed at boarding school. But on the whole I enjoyed being naked when about to mate with my own gender.
I stripped back out of my nightwear and got back on the bed as if kneeling behind a willing recipient of my anal attentions. My cock hung down between my legs in a floppy aspect very different from its usual state of flagrant arousal when I was getting into this position for real behind a companion eagerly sticking his arse out for me.
“So the other guy would be in front of you,” Debbie clarified, enjoying seeing how her boyfriend readied himself for male-to-male intercourse far more than she liked to see me preparing for sex with her.
“Yes, he’d be here, facing forwards,” I gestured, grabbing a pair of imaginary hips in front of me.
“So you’d be presented with a manly-looking bum… large and pudgy and with a thick line of hair running down the crack…?”
“Yes,” I smiled. “Some men’s bottoms can be rather big and hairy!”
“And that doesn’t put you off… the fact it’s so different from a woman’s?”
“Not at all… it’s an acquired taste, I admit, but the male rear has its own particular charms in its furry fullness.”
She grinned at me, seeming to like my answer. “So you’re actually excited that it’s a man’s bum you’re about to enter… you don’t try to think of your partner in feminine terms?”
“Oh absolutely,” I affirmed. “I like that I’m about to mount another man and enjoy it all the more when he’s got a big masculine arse. It’s the anticipation of… well… buggering him up it, if I can talk frankly, that drives me to have such encounters.”
“Oh yes, please do talk frankly, Robert,” she beamed. “I want to know everything so don’t feel you need to hold back.”
I smiled back at her, and realised she was starting to get aroused by the scenario we were playing out. All this time I’d tried to be gentle and sensual in my approach to our lovemaking, when perhaps I ought to have been telling her what I get up to with the back-ends of other middle-aged blokes.
“Okay,” she went on, “so your friend is bending forwards in front of you… is that how it works…?”
“Or squatting,” I explained. “Some men prefer to be penetrated in a crouching position. It opens their rectum more fully and makes the entry of the penis much smoother.”
“Wow, that’s fascinating!” Debbie chuckled, her eyes wide and rivetted. “So let’s say he’s bending or squatting… do you just plunge right in?”
I replied, “If I’m being frank, like you asked me to be, I’d have to confess that I’d probably have a sniff of him first.”
I guess it was a case of in for a penny, in for a pound.
“His bottom?” she asked. Her eyebrows raised in surprise but there was no sign of reproof or disgust. “Surely not down… you know… where it’s moist…?”
I nodded with a sheepish grin. “The wetter, the better…”
“Oh God,” she gasped, returning my smile with a more mischievous version. “You men can be so dirty!”
“It’s not dirty,” I countered. “Most guys get turned on by the scent of a woman’s opening before sex. It’s the same with another man – the smell of the entrance you’re about to use for coitus makes an arousing precursor to the act itself.”
“But doesn’t it smell of… well…?” she falteringly queried.
“It smells of his bum-stink, of course it does!” I smiled. “But that’s what makes it exciting – it’s the part of him that’s you’re about to connect with him through and the part of him you’re going to smell when you’re inside his body”
She grinned and shook her head. “I’ll never understand male sexuality!”
“It’s no different from me enjoying the sexy smell between your legs. Only the male equivalent is far more intense and pungent!”
She reached forwards and stroked my heavy, drooping member, something she never normally did during our lovemaking. “Does it make your cock grow hard, Robert? Smelling another man’s stinky arsehole before you slide yourself up into it?”
I felt my organ starting to stiffen and thicken against her soft, delicate caress. I was loving that she was enjoying this so much. Perhaps the knowledge that her boyfriend used other men to discharge his seed had taken some of the pressure off her as an unwilling recipient.
“I love the taste of it more,” I told her with a naughty smirk. “While my cock’s rising upwards, I lap my tongue into the hot sticky hole it’s about to push into.”
“Oh my God!” she laughed with delight. “You actually lick other men’s arseholes?”
“Nice and deep,” I grinned. “To get them slippery enough for me to -”
I wanted to say ‘fuck’ but I’d never used that word with Debbie. I wasn’t sure how she’d react to it.
As it was, she finished the sentence for me: “Bugger them hard with that massive cock of yours!”
I smiled at her, thrilled that she was getting so on board with me on this. “Yes, that’s the idea!”
“Oh God – I just love the idea of you getting so horny that you have to use other men’s bums to relieve your big, swollen manhood, Robert! And all the sniffing and licking of their ripe holes to get you in the mood! It’s so… animal… feral, even!”
I chuckled at her enthusiasm, amused that it had been the lack of that emotion in the bedroom which had, at least in part, driven her sex-starved boyfriend to seek relief from his own kind.
“So let’s say you’re now indulging yourself deep up inside some stranger’s bowels,” she went on. “How would you hold him while you’re busily fornicating with his bum?”
“By the hips,” I said, grabbing my invisible partner at the waist and thrusting my crotch back and forwards against the air so that my big soft cock and my plump saggy bollocks slapped around against my thighs. “Or later on, when we’re both really enjoying the pace and rhythm of our sex, by the shoulders.”
“Show me,” she commanded.
I grabbed the shoulders of my imaginary male lover and bucked my hips against where his chubby rump would be. Then I made like I was holding him from underneath, hooking my arms underneath his armpits to lever his body against mine as I flexed the muscles of my buttocks pretending to work myself in and out of the tight grip of his anus.
I could feel my big floppy organ growing chunkier at the fantasy I was playing out for Debbie. I could see that she was becoming excited too: the sight of her boyfriend making out like he was butt-fucking some bloke he’d picked up was arousing her far more than the prospect of him making love with her.
“And your cock would be inside him?” she asked. “Right up his bum and sliding in and out of his hole?”
“Right up his arse, yes,” I agreed, feeling my cock starting to rise upwards from my nuts as I kept thrusting back and forth against my invisible lover’s squat manly butt.
“And would he have a hard-on, Robert? Would he be liking it so much that he’d have a big fat bell-end?”
I grinned at her, eager to bolster this new and unsuspected aspect to her sexuality. I wondered if she was being so candid and forthright because she no longer felt anxious that all my sexual expectations were focussed on her.
“Yeah, he’d be rock hard as I fucked him.” She beamed back at me to show that – in a homosexual context at least – she liked my use of the f-word. “He’d be wanking himself off from the feel of me up inside his hot slimy tunnel!”
“And how would it smell?” she asked, touching herself through her nightie. “Would it reek of both your big sweaty bollocks… of his throbbing cock getting wet and shiny…?”
“It would reek, yes… but not from our balls or his cock,” I grinned, now making long upward sweeps with my cock as it hardened to its full, impressive size.
“From where, then, Robert?” she gasped. “Tell me where your sex would stink from?”
“From his arse!” I smirked at her, and her eyes widened with delight. “He’s a brawny bloke with a big brown shitter… the faster I fuck him, the more the thing stinks!”
“Oh my God!” she panted, hitching her nightie up and working a finger into herself. “Show me, Rob! Show me how you slam him hard to make his arse stink!”
I grabbed my pretend lover and made like I was fucking him furiously, my large erection jabbing into the air where his eager rectum would be gaping open to consume me. Debbie grabbed my cock with her free hand and held it tightly so I could thrust it back and forth against her clenched fist.
She’d always shown an aversion to masturbating me until then. Now she squeezed my hard-on firm and steady as I swept it deep up into my imaginary male lover’s bum.
“Tell me how it stinks,” she cried out, rubbing at herself with rough, rapid strokes. “Tell me how nasty it smells when you’re bumming some bloke up his shitty arse!”
I grinned at her, hugely turned-on that she was fingering herself in front of me. I’d asked her to before – I loved to see a woman pleasuring herself, especially if she’s fondling my cock as she does so – but she’d always said it “wasn’t nice” for ladies to do that.
“It smells fierce and rank!” I blurted out, and she gasped with delighted pleasure as she frigged herself harder. “It smells of another man’s shit smeared thick around my hammering cock!”
Debbie gaped eagerly at me, panting with excitement.
Even in my heightened state I found it curious that a woman who was usually so hung-up about sexual smells and so adamant that neither of our bums had any involvement in the little sex we had, was so aroused at being told what two blokes butt-fucking stunk like. Clearly my girlfriend had a serious fetish about men having smelly anal sex together, something I wished I’d known far earlier in our relationship.
“His stink grows stronger and stronger until I shoot off up inside him!” I called out, keen to excite her further. “And then I bend over for him and he gets to smell my arse too!”
“Oh my God – you let him fuck you?!” she gasped, her hand a blur between her legs as she stroked her fingers back and forth.
“We do it both ways!” I muttered breathlessly, sweeping my cock with long rapid strokes through the grip of her fist as if it was the squeeze of another man’s innards.
“Show me, Robert! Show me how you let another man push his cock up your arse!”
I fell forwards, panting, so I was bent over on all fours and with my bum sticking outwards like I would if I was about to allow another man to use it for relief. My cock was standing proud, almost touching my stomach, while my balls hung low, stretching my scrotum as they swung heavily between my legs.
“Let me see your hole between your cheeks!” Debbie urged me. “Let me see where other men bugger you!”
I opened my legs more widely and pushed my arse further back so that my buttocks were splayed open exposing my coarse, hairy furrow for her to see for the first time. I could feel the bloated ring of my anus extruding outwards, yawning obscenely from all the cocks it had taken.
“Oh God, I can see your stretched arsehole!” Debbie exclaimed. “It looks enormous… obscene…”
“Do you like it?” I asked, recovering my breath. As she’d never shown any interest in my backside before, I wanted to make sure that her astonishment was borne from enthusiasm.
“It’s amazing!” she laughed, moving around for a better view of my swollen entrance, puckering shamelessly through the forest of fur spilling out from my butt-crack. “You could get a really thick cock up it!”
“And I do,” I laughed back. “I’ve let some pretty well-hung men use it when their balls were aching.”
“And then you turn them around and used theirs in return?” she asked, still with her finger rubbing herself.
“That’s how it works when men couple up for butt sex,” I grinned. “You shag my back, I shag yours!”
She took her hand from between her legs and quickly padded over to her bedside cabinet to retrieve something from the drawer. Pulling out the vibrator I’d already seen hidden away in there, she called over to me, “Show me, Robert! Show me how horny you get when you’re having that massive arsehole of yours slammed by a cock!”
Chuckling at her hitherto-unseen spirit of inventiveness, I grabbed the plastic phallus from her and applied it to my over-indulged behind.
“Oh yes! Shove it right up there!” she cried out as I slid it in one smooth motion all the way up into my bowels. “Now bend over and fuck yourself with it! Show me what it looks like when you’ve got a bloke bumming you hard up the arse!”
She craned in to peer at my gaping crack as I started plunging the dildo in and out of my puckered opening. She loved the sight of me fucking myself with it and started gasping and groaning as her finger got back to work underneath her pink nightie.
“Faster, Robert! Harder! Show me how much you like it!”
I did as she’d commanded, loving her new-found enthusiasm for our sex and hoping we could repeat this scenario on many occasions when I stayed over in future. I’d had no idea – not a smidgen of a clue – of her fascination for gay sex, but now that I did – now that it was obvious that the thought of two men enjoying anal was a considerable turn-on for her – I intended to exploit her hidden fetish to the full.
I turned to grin at her as I plunged her vibrator in and out of my over-stretched entrance. I knew its shiny white plastic would be streaked nastily and looking as crude and discoloured as the shaft of my cock when I’m humping hard behind a bent-over buddy, but to my surprise she didn’t recoil in disgust at the sight of it. Instead she sniffed the air and grinned back at me, asking, “Is this how it stinks when you’re together with a man?”
“It can get a lot rougher than this!” I laughed. “I’m used to much bigger cocks slamming in and out of my hole!”
“I’ll buy a much bigger one for you, Robert!” she panted, her hand moving more quickly as it pounded away between her legs. “A huge twelve-incher so you can show me how much you like a long thick dong banging away at your stinky arse!”
“With bollocks on it!” I breathlessly commanded. “I like to feel a massive pair of knackers slapping away at my thighs!”
“Oh yeah!” she gasped, her hand now a blur. “Tell me what you say, Robert! Tell me what you call out when you’re bending over and taking another bloke’s cock up you!”
She reached back to my hard-on with her free hand and started wanking me roughly with long, rapid strokes. She angled it downwards towards her bedding which was a little painful for me, as my shaft was rigidly erect and pounding painfully with throbbing blood. However, I was pleased to have her masturbating me again and figured this was hardly the time to advise her on technique.
She yanked my organ powerfully and I could feel my orgasm nearing. How great would it be if she really did buy an obscenely proportioned dildo for us to have more fun like this, ramming it in and out of my huge over-used hole? I might even persuade her to hold it for herself and push it back and forth between my cheeks; perhaps even get behind me on the bed and make like she was mounting me with it.
Just think of all the stuff we could get up to!
I kept fucking myself with her current smaller model and shouted out for her benefit, “Oh God yeah! Fuck me harder! Come on! Shoot your thick white jizz up my hot shitty arse!”
She gasped as her orgasm hit in and I peered at her expression over my shoulder as she prolonged her enjoyment by making short, rapid flicks with her finger. Her eyes were tightly closed and her lips gently pouting as she luxuriated in her self-induced crescendo. I realised that all the times we’d had intercourse she’d been faking her orgasms: all the noisy moaning and breathless theatricals of her earlier performances were missing from this restrained and authentic climax.
When she’d surmounted her peak and continued jabs of her finger were yielding little further pleasure, she turned her attention towards my huge engorged member, and started pounding her hand up and down it even though it was still pointing painfully downwards in the tight grip of her fist. She wanked it quickly, making fast firm strokes up and down the heaving shaft so that my foreskin swept frantically back and forth across my shiny purple cock head and the deep furrow of my slit started dribbling with my juice.
“Next time you fuck me, Robert,” she said, surprising me by wanting to continue to talk dirty even after she’d spent herself. Until that moment she had been reluctant to indulge in sex talk even while pretending to be at her most aroused.
“Next time we do this,” she went on, pounding my throbbing manhood faster and faster, “I want you to take me from behind. I want you to do me doggy-style the way you bugger other men. Say the stuff to me that you say to them, tell me how much you love bumming me like I’m some hard-up stranger you’ve picked up for a quickie!”
My balls unleashed their semen and it squirted in long, copious spurts down from my bloated glistening helmet onto her bedding so that it made a broad, glutinous puddle. She surprised me yet again by not releasing my cock and cajoling me for dirtying her bedsheets, but instead continued to pump at my spasming shaft, kneading it up and down the way a milkmaid would work a cow’s teat and seeming indifferent to the mess my over-excited organ was making.
Normally she’d have remarked on how rank my spunk smelled or how it was like having a big heaving boar in her bedroom about to sire another litter of piglets.
But this time was different.
The first thing she said wasn’t a criticism, but was instead a question.
“Next time you come over, Robert, will you have met up with another man for sex, do you think?”
“Maybe,” I replied, still catching my breath and still hunched over on all fours with her shit-stained white vibrator sticking out of my arse. “I dunno… it’s possible.”
“Please try to,” she implored, “and I promise I’ll buy the bigger dildo. We can have fun acting out what the two of you get up to… maybe play out different scenarios… different possibilities…”
“Sounds hot,” I grunted, removing the dirty phallus from my bum and pushing myself back upright. I’d have to get some toilet roll from her bathroom to clean up the big stinking pool of spunk I’d left on her bedding. It seemed strange that, for once, I was the one fussing about smells and stains.
“I loved it when you were fucking yourself,” she grinned triumphantly. “I loved hearing the dirty stuff you say to the men you have sex with.”
“I… er… noticed that,” I replied, climbing off her bed. “I’d better get some loo roll to clean up this mess.”
“I’ve got a spare set of bedding in the airing cupboard,” she said dismissively. Strange how she’d never mentioned that all the other times I’d got a smear of precum on her undersheet or had inadvertently rubbed my naked arse against her precious duvet cover.
“I can put it on while you fix us some drinks,” she added brightly. “Then we can chat about what else we can do! I’m so pleased you told me about your homosexual interests, Robert… dating a guy who has a bisexual side is something I’ve fantasized about for so long you wouldn’t believe it!”
“I think I would,” I muttered, pulling my briefs back on before heading downstairs to pour us both a nightcap.
This was such a shock to the system I was having trouble getting it to sink in. Debbie had always seemed so prude and so fastidious about smells and things she saw as ‘dirty’ that it was difficult to get my head around her sudden reversal in behaviour.
As I was pouring myself a glass of white wine and her a whiskey with ice, I wondered if this new-found interest of Debbie’s might represent a boost for our relationship. After all, our sex had become as stale as she’d said the vests had been that I’d worn on our early dates.
Perhaps, as strange at seemed, my interest in other men would prove to be the spark that our lovemaking had needed. Perhaps that spark would ignite a new flame that would see us develop into the sort of loving and durable couple I’d hoped for when I’d first met her.
Or perhaps I should be worried that in one night I’d completely changed the basis of our relationship. Perhaps the new flame was instead the unseen second man I’d brought into our bed; someone who had an erotic importance for Debbie that could well outweigh her affection for me.
As I went back upstairs with our drinks, I couldn’t make up my mind about the way things had worked out.
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