By now I had found out that the wife was definitely seeing other women, so I didn't have a guilt trip. I also knew I wanted to explore more of my gay side. Don't get me wrong, I still liked women, and would have happily gone to bed with one, but I wanted to broaden my horizons.
The return leg of the England international was at Wembley on a Saturday, with a 5pm kick off. I asked Jim if I could watch it with him. Checking that no one was watching, he kissed me and patted my bum. I told my wife I was watching the game at Jim's, and staying the night. She just shrugged her shoulders and said she would have a girlfriend round.
I packed an overnight bag, and left for Jim's at 4.00, giving us plenty of time to get settled in. To my delight, he was only wearing loose fitting shorts, with his dick already tenting them, and a hoodie. We kissed on the doorstep, with him stroking my bulge. We went into the living room and he cracked open a bottle of wine, and we drank a toast to new friendships, (though we'd been friends for years). He told me to make myself comfortable, so I slung my bag in the bedroom, kicked of my shoes, and slipped out of my jeans. My dick had flopped out the flies of my loose boxers, so he gave it a playful tug. We had a glass of wine and settled down to watch the match build up. By the time the game finished, which England won 3-1, the wine was gone. Jim made steak for dinner, washed down with more wine. We washed up and tidied the kitchen, and, even thought it wasn't even 8.00, we went to the bedroom. This time, I wanted to have more control. We kissed, tongues entwined, then I slipped his hoodie off and kissed his neck, then down to his nipples. He held my head and moaned gently. Sitting on the bed, I eased his shorts down, his beautiful, irresistible penis stared me in the face. I gave him head, licking his sack and along the length of the shaft. He held my head again and face fucked me, but I didn't want him to cum....yet. Standing up, we kissed again and fell onto the bed. We became a mass of tangled arms and legs, ending in a sixty nine. Then he began licking my perineum (taint), and on, into my crack. Thank God I'd had a thorough wash down there. His tongue found my sensitive hole and probed my ring. He pulled his head back, and applied enough pressure with his finger to make it slip inside. I gasped as he invaded my inner sanctums. Suddenly, I knew I wanted to be fucked. I was scared and excited in equal measure. We moved round and faced each other. Looking genuinely concerned, he asked, "Do you want me to make love to you?" That sounded much better than 'being fucked'. I nodded, figuring that it couldn't be any worse than a constipated shit. He produced a small bottle of gel from under his pillow and smeared some on my hole, and more on his penis, that now looked bigger than ever. He told me to get on all fours and relax. With me on my knees and elbows, he applied more gel and pushed a finger in again. I groaned. Then two fingers, twisting them this way and that. Finally, he replaced his fingers with the tip of his penis, I groaned again. I thought it would hurt, but it slipped in like a hand in a glove, losing my virginity and making me feel whole. I didn't even lose my erection, in fact it became stronger as he rubbed my prostate. Precum started to dribble out, something that had never happened in over 20 years of sex. "Fuck me, you're tight, I'm not sure how long I can last, wank yourself." He pumped harder and I felt him pulse several times into me. It was enough to make me explode over the bed. He pulled out, and we lay there in the stillness recovering. "Fucking hell, I've never experienced anything as powerful." He kissed me on the cheek.
After a while, we went back to the living room and cuddled on the sofa, watching some game show on TV. By 11.00, we turned in. I had the best night's sleep in ages. Next morning we used the bathroom and showered, had breakfast, and went back to bed. This time, we made love more gently, starting off doggy, as we had the previous evening, then missionary, so we could face each other and kiss. It was clear he'd had a lot of experience over the years. If he felt himself getting close, he pulled out, and went back to cuddling again, resuming in a different position. We lay on our sides, with him taking me from behind, but I could still turn my head enough to kiss. Slowly, he built up speed, plunging deeper. I got a hand on myself. He began to breed me as my spunk flew over my thigh and onto the sheets. "More washing," he joked.
I gathered my stuff up, and said goodbye. On the way home I pondered whether to come clean to the wife. I decided against it. In a funny way, we still loved each other, so I thought it best we kept the status quo. At home, my wife was looking radiant. I went to put my stuff in the bedroom while she put the kettle on. One of her friends had left their cardigan. Oh well, I thought, what's good for the goose is good for the gander.
Back downstairs, I kissed her on the cheek and asked her if she'd had a nice evening. She blushed slightly.
I went down to my shed and texted Jim. 'All good, can't wait to do it again, thanks for being so gentle.' I only hoped my with wouldn't notice the cum stains in my underwear. My only question to myself now, was would I be able to top?
