By the time I was sixteen, it was clear to one and all that I would live my life as a gay man. I was not effeminate but simply refused to play the pretense game that so many unfortunate souls had to conform to. Luckily, my parents were very laid back and non-prescriptive and when I eventually ‘outed’ myself, it was a total non-event. I had never had proper sex at that age, but I knew what did and did not turn me on. I was attracted to boys, simple as that. I lived a life similar to any other straight boy and had no inclination to dress or act like a woman. I was equally comfortable discussing plant varieties or paging through décor magazines. I enjoyed the various sporting activities as much as any other guy.

In high school, I excelled in art and wanted to become a fulltime artist. Sculpting particularly interested me. After high school I enrolled at an art college and at the end of my first year before I turned nineteen, I met Paul who became my first lover. He was suave and sophisticated and in his mid-twenties. Paul held a managerial position at a company that sold housewares. He had a lovely apartment and after six months of dating each other, I moved in with him. My parents were totally cool with the arrangement.

Sex with Paul was always wonderful and I believed that I could not be any happier. Fortunately, Paul got on very well with my parents and our get-togethers were always very enjoyable.

One and a half years later, I graduated from college.

Paul was often away from home because of his work, which afforded me ample time to dedicate to my sculpting. After six months as a full-time artist, my work started being noticed. Not only was I starting to make a living, but I was also creating quite a name for myself.

Unfortunately, my personal life then took a turn for the worse when I discovered that Paul was having an affair. A friend of mine alerted me to the fact.

The following morning after the sad news, while Paul was showering I checked out his phone, something that I would never normally do. To my dismay, a plethora of intimate texts from a guy named Brett appeared. I was left in no doubt that this wasn’t simply a one night stand. Once I was on a roll, I decided to peer into his briefcase, which fortunately had not been locked. Further good and bad news presented itself as I did so when I saw a multitude of condoms within. I was shocked but decided to suppress my inclination to immediately confront him. I wanted to snag the bastard red-handed, and therefore, decided to bide my time.

What really pissed me off the most was that we had been seriously discussing buying a larger apartment together in the very near future, with the financial assistance of my dad.

Once Paul left for work that morning I went into action mode. After visiting my parents and discussing the matter with them, I made my decision to move to London. A gallery in London had been on my case for a few months to have an exhibition in their space. Unlike Cheltenham were I had grown up, London presented unlimited opportunities.

That evening, matters were exacerbated even further when Paul informed me that he would be away from home the weekend after next because his company was having a ‘teambuilding’ weekend gathering at a country hotel. A communication that had puzzled me on Paul’s phone from that morning, instantly made sense. He had planned a weekend away with Brett, simple as that. Fortunately, I remembered the name of the country hotel.

On my part, having no intention of sharing a bed with Paul or having sex with him again, I concocted a story that I had been to the doctor that day and had a contagious bladder infection. I, therefore, considerately moved into the spare bedroom.

You might wonder why I simply didn’t call it a day with Paul immediately, but after the deception that I had been through, I decided to milk the situation to the fullest. I wanted to see that look on his deceitful face when I caught him red handed. It was a silly notion I know, but, ‘what the hell,’ I figured.

To cut a long story short, the next two weeks were hectic.

Firstly, I contacted an old school buddy from school who had become an airline steward and lived in London and asked if he could put me up for a short while. With him being away from home most of the time, this wasn’t a problem for him. Collin, my buddy, also promised to source an apartment that would suit my needs in the interim.

Secondly, with Paul having informed me that he would be heading off straight after work in two weeks’ time, my dad and I arranged for all my stuff to be collected at noon on the Friday of his departure. All my belongings would thus be put in storage, prior to getting my accommodation needs in London sorted out.

Ultimately, I departed for London two weeks later. En route, I naturally planned to stop by the ‘love nest’ where Paul and Brett were spending the weekend, to do my final goodbye.

When I arrived at the charming country hotel, I was soon seated in an isolated corner of the bar area that was located next to the dining area.

As I sat there an old song that my grandmother had loved was going through my mind. In nineteen-sixty, a famous singer from that era named Nancy Wilson, who sang a song entitled ‘Guess Who I Saw Today’. Truthfully, a later cover version by Eartha Kitt was possibly an even better version, but that’s a debate that I do not wish to initiate.

In any case; the song is about a housewife who goes out shopping one day to buy something new, and when she finally has lunch after her shopping spree, she is seated in a dark secluded corner in a French café and bar, which she had never before visited. As she does so, she watches a couple enter. The two people she observes seemed to be very much in love, ‘that I could even see it way across the room,’ as the composition informs us. At the end of the song, the man she sees turns out to be her husband.

As I sat in my dark secluded corner, Paul and Brett eventually entered the restaurant and were instantly shown to their table. Observing them, I was amazed that I did not feel as heartbroken as I had feared. In fact, I was beyond annoyance. Paul, as ever, was turning on the charm and it angered me to think that I hadn’t seen through his bullshit a lot earlier. Upon reflection, I also realized that he had been; ‘all sizzle, with very little substance.’

Patiently, I sat and watched them for the next half-hour. During this period, their wine was ordered and after their starters arrived, I observed their horny visual exchanges accompanied by occasional hand touching. The pathetic charade sickened me.

When their main courses eventually arrived and they began to tuck in, I decided that my moment had finally arrived. After that, I arose from my chair I walked in their direction. My arrival was met with very diverse reactions. Paul looked totally horrified, which pleased me, and Brett looked somewhat perplexed. Firstly, turning to address Brett, I presently cleared up his confusion.

“Paul and I have been in a relationship for the past two and a half years. Something he may have forgotten to mention to you.” Then after turning my eyes to Paul, I continued. “Yesterday my dad and I removed all my stuff from your home. When I leave here tonight I am on my way to London to start a new life. I have left extra food and water for your two dogs, so there’s no need to cut your romantic weekend short. Paul… I wish you all the best in life,” I concluded.

As Paul appeared to want to rise out of his chair, I promptly said, “Don’t even think of getting up and following me, unless you want me to embarrass you with the most spectacular shitfit you have ever witnessed… Our relationship is over, Paul!” Fortunately, he did not follow me.

As I started my journey to London it felt like a huge burden had been lifted off my shoulders.

The funny thing about life is that the old Shakespearian adage; ‘The truth will out,’ was proved correct. Over the following few months, when various people that knew Paul and I contacted me, I was informed about his historic infidelities.

There is a Greek term; polyamorous, which means ‘many loves.’ Usually, the word implies a consensual knowledge of the status quo. In my case, however, this was not the case. I, therefore, would have to add a backslash to better describe it. Maybe, polyamorous/apatao (deceit), would be more suitable.

Paul did try to contact me over the next three months as I worked my backside off, preparing for a solo exhibition, which incidentally turned out to be a huge success.

Paul did attend the opening night, thanks to Facebook. After congratulating me, I thank him before cutting him short and moving off to mingle with the other guests.

I saw Paul sheepishly leaving ten minutes later and never saw him again.

To cheer my good fortune, I decided to visit a gay bar the following Saturday evening. Having never been to a club, or bar, I checked out a gay magazine to select one to visit. With literally dozens of names, I decided to base my choice on a tried and tested method, the alphabet. The first name under the bar section was Abernethy.

This bar was several stations away from where I lived. At eight p.m. I entered the bar after a relatively short train journey. The neighbourhood was okay, but the bar had obviously seen better days and was relatively empty. Upon inquiring from Des, the barman, why this was so, he told me that the clients only usually began arriving after nine-thirty p.m.

Jovial as I was, however, I was not going to let this unremarkable establishment spoil my evening. Fifteen minutes later, a fireman joined me at the counter and ordered a Coke before engaging me in conversation.

Wes, full name Wesley, was a fireman at the local station and would be reporting for duty at ten p.m. He was very handsome with short dark hair and a full moustache. Wes stood six-foot-tall and was fairly hunky. In his fireman’s overall, he appeared to have a very substantial bubble butt, which demanded one’s attention. His hands were large and his feet, judging by his boots, were huge. In short, he was a walking wet-dream.

When I told him where I lived he asked, “Why did you decide to slum it tonight.” I was slightly taken aback but explained the details of why I had chosen the bar. He then told me that the bar was named after some or other kind of biscuit.

We continued chatting for the next hour and a half and swapped our life stories. At nine-forty p.m., he said that he had to head off to work. Having had my fill of the place, I left at the same time as him.

Before we parted company outside the bar, he asked me if I made a decent breakfast. Replying that I did, he asked for my telephone number, saying that he would put me to the test the following morning.

On my way home on the train, I wondered if I would see him. He was totally hot and I hoped that I would receive a call from him. As I walked to my home I passed by my local fire station, which was a block and a half from my apartment.

‘Wouldn’t it be great if he were stationed there?’ I thought, giggling to myself.

When I was awoken the following morning by a beep from my phone, the SMS confirmed our breakfast arrangement and asked for my address. After furnishing the address with the local fire station as a marker, I presently received a reply stating, ‘see you at eight-thirty.’

After Wes arrived on time by motorbike, I presented him with a breakfast of note. As we ate I observed that he looked quite tired. His shift had been hectic and he admitted that he could do with some sleep. I offered him my bed, as it was the only had one in the apartment.

With a smile, he asked, “Will I be safe using it?”

Jokingly I answered, “You are obviously a lot more powerful than me… so ravaging you will be out of the question.”

After a shower, Wes emerged from the bathroom completely naked. I almost fainted as I took in the magnificent specimen before me. He was a solid block of manhood with a cock that would make a donkey envious.

When he observed me staring at his enormous uncut tool he quipped, “My butt is huge because you need a big hammer to drive a large nail.”

After getting into my bed he was asleep soon after. On his rotational shift cycle, he was only due back at work on Monday morning.

I popped off to the shops and returned a while later, to attend to a few chores around the apartment. At around noon, he emerged from the bedroom wearing his boxer shorts. I made us a light lunch, which we enjoyed with a beer.

Wes was easy to converse with and we effortlessly chatted about everything under the sun. He was twenty-six-years-old and had never been in a serious relationship. According to him, he was always attracted to the wrong guys and had therefore, only ever had short flings.

He also then paid me a very nice compliment by saying, “Your ex must have had rocks in his head.”

Next, we moved through to the lounge later before he sat next to me on the sofa. There was an uncomfortable lull in our conversation as he fixedly stared at me. Wes then drew me in close, and tilting my head towards him, kissed me gently. As our kissing became more intense, he pulled my t-shirt off me, before pushing me down on the sofa. Climbing on top of me he began kissing and licking my ears and neck. Wes then stood up and pulled me over his shoulder, before carrying me to the bedroom. I was placed on the bed before he pulled the shorts I was wearing off me. When he dropped his boxers his humungous cock flexed upon its release.

Wes got on top of me, pushing my legs apart with his knees. As he continued to kiss me I was beyond excited, but somewhat nervous about the anal invasion that I anticipated would follow. Paul, my former lover, had the same size penis as me, but Wes made the two of us look like two twelve-year-old boys. After some time, he coaxed me onto my stomach, before moving down my body and giving me the most incredible rimming, I had ever received. After a while, Wes asked for lubrication, which I fortunately, had in a drawer next to the bed. He applied the lubrication to my backside, inserting one, then two fingers as he opened me up. He also generously applied the ointment to his cock.

Wes’ insertion was slow and patient but still hurt like hell. With his body supported on his arms, he skillfully invaded my hole inch by inch. When he had finally completed his invasion, he lay still on top of me for a short while. The sensation of his huge cock began to feel incredible after the initial discomfort had worn off. Once he had ascertained that I was comfortable, he started a gentle pushing, and pulling motion, with his hips. The momentum of his action then gathered impetus, as he escalated to a more intense thrusting. The sensation was driving me wild and I started whimpering like a baby. After whispering mild obscenities into my ears, I begged Wes to fuck me mercilessly.

Lifting himself up onto his arms, his cock assaulted me with force, before spraying his seed into my manhole. I ejaculated simultaneously all over the bed. We lay like that for a long while with Wes nibbling on my ears. Holding me down firmly he began to blow on my ears minutes later. The sensation of this was extremely ticklish, and as I began squirming and yelping, he tightened his grip on me, perpetuating my torment. With his right hand, he located my armpit, to further escalate my suffering, as his tickling fingers drove me crazy. Squealing like a child I begged him to stop, and finally, to my great relief, he relented.

“I think it is time to spray some more fire-squelching agent into your hot arse,” Wes said before I felt his ample butt spring to life once more.

“Does my uptown boy want more of daddies fire retardant?” He asked, continuing before I could answer, “Should I soak your sizzling hole with my hose again baby?”

“Fuck, yes… please drench me, daddy, my butts on fire,” I replied.

“Well, then you are going to have milk my nozzle properly. Show me you want it… tighten your hole, prove to me you want me to douse your blaze.”

Wes began thumping into me, as I clenched my butt. Soon his thumps escalated to hammering as Wes went into overdrive, pistoning into me. I clamped onto his knob with all my might, sure that I would not be able to sit comfortably for the next few days.

“Argh…argh… argh,” he cried as a torrent of liquid spewed into my searing hole. Drenched in sweat, Wes collapsed onto my body groaning with exertion. “Fuck yeah… oh yes… that was fucking awesome,” he said panting like crazy.

Wes stayed for the rest of the weekend. I had never known that sex could scale the heights, I had experienced with him. Apart from the fucking, we also enjoyed each other’s company immensely. I wasn’t sure what would happen going forward, but hoped like mad I would be seeing more of him. I knew that my phone would become the centre of my universe, over the following few days.


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