“Hey man, wanna come over to my condo at lunch today?”
An apartment with a bed and no pesky room-mate around? Meeting horizontally is a rare treat in University Town.
“Sure,” I write back. I balance the phone on the toilet tank, and grab a diaper. My 11 month old just woke up. My wife should be back soon to take over and I’ll leave for work.
Yesterday I’d been chatting with this bi torso. He’s engaged, and we seem to get along well.
“Have you ever tasted your own cum?” he asks.
“Yup. It’s like sweet nectar of the gods. And bleach.”
“Hahaha… I can’t wait to taste it :)”
Those are words I like to hear.
I meet him in the lobby of his apartment. He’s asian, strong and compact. His gray T-shirt hangs off his V-shaped torso. We make easy conversation in the elevator.
In his apartment, the unmatched furnishings and the printer on the kitchen counter reveal that his fiancee probably doesn’t live here. His bedroom is spacious and contains only a bed. It would be Zen, except plastic tote boxes piled against the wall threaten to come crashing down at any minute.
Definitely not gay.
I look out at the trees far below the apartment window. The curtains are missing.
He comes up behind me and puts his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry. No-one can see us up here.”
I spin around. He’s so close I can smell the sweat on him. It seems like we should kiss, but neither of us want to go there. Instead, I reach down and peel his shirt up, revealing a set of honey-brown abs. In a moment, we’re both down to our underwear.
“This will take longer than five minutes,” he tells me. referring to my other story. He kneels and munches my goods through my underwear. (SAXX Kinetic Brief Fly, $30) I lean against the side of the window and watch him, and run my hands down his back.
But one thing works best to turn me on.

We switch, and I pull down his black boxers. His uncut cock juts out at me, his glans perfectly pink and smooth. It looks like the perfect size for me. I just have to know, so I skip to the good part: I take it all in. It tastes wonderful, and its smooth end just lightly nestles against the back of my throat. I know immediately that I am going to like this guy.
“Lay down, I want to suck you too,” he says. I settle onto the mattress.
“Oh wow,” he exclaims, as he grabs my 6.5” erection. I lay back against the wall as he sucks on my penis. God it feels good. My wife does it best, of course, but it’s been about six months since the last time.
“Want to 69?” I ask when he comes up to breath.
His eyes light up. “Sure,” he says, and we lie sideways against each other.
For me, the hottest part of a man’s body is the little crack between his legs, under his balls. I stare at his and pretend his cock is candy. It’s his turn to moan. Everything I do is turning him on, and he returns the favour.
I use his moans as a guide, and bring him to the edge, then back down, once, then twice. I love teasing him, but he shifts his weight, and suddenly he’s in control. He’s on top of me, thrusting down, pressing his penis against my throat. It just fit before, but now he’s more aroused. With his bodyweight, he shoves himself all the way in, and I panic. I can’t breathe.
I push his hips up and take a quick breath, so I can stop gagging. But he plunges down again, banging against my throat, still moaning. I feel like I’m going to vomit. But it’s fucking hot. I feel utterly dominated. My mouth is his fuck toy.
I’m so distracted, I don’t notice my own feelings down there until they’re unstoppable. I’m going to cum, but I can’t warn him. I let out some desperate moans. And then it happens, sweet release. With the gusto of his urgent need, he sucks it out of me, hungrily.
And then he lets off, allows me to sit up. I quickly wipe the tears off my cheeks. He doesn’t notice. He half stands on the bed, grabs my head and starts to fuck my throat again. I reach around and pull him to me. His moans become faster, more urgent.
When he cums, it lasts a long time. I can feel every strong pulse against my lower lip. There must have been 10 spurts right down my throat, but I taste very little. Finally he drops me, and we both settle down into the bed.
Drained.
As our cocks shrink, we talk. He’s getting married in a few months.
“It’s good that you’re exploring now,” I tell him. “I never did.” I was shy throughout school. After only two awkward lunch dates with girls, I found my soul mate and never looked back. By then, it wasn’t a stretch to stay a PIV virgin until my wedding night.
“Yeah, I guess,” he says, and looks to the blue sky outside the window.
Gazing at the sunlight streaming in from the bare window, I have an epiphany. Bi men often seek other bi men, because the rest of the world sees us as shifty liars. Jilted lovers are quick to point accusing fingers if we happen to switch sides. It’s unfair, because most bi men have completely normal, committed, monogamous relationships.
Us? We are both cheating. We understand one another.
“How do you initiate sex?” he asks.
“Well, it’s rough right now with the baby,” I tell him. Before kids, Sunday was our day, but it ended up being once a month anyway. Now, with three kids under five, we’re both exhausted. The pregnancy was not a good one, and afterwards, the baby seemed to drain from her breasts any remaining whiff of her sexuality. Blowjobs were all she could manage. One night, fatigued after a long week at home with our son, she admitted that our “intimacy time” was yet another chore on her long list of things to do. I stopped asking.
“She gave you blowjobs?” he asks incredulously.
You poor man.
I dispense more marital advice, stories of battles over knives in the dishwasher, compromise, and how to live with your soul mate.
“It was easy to move in together,” I tell him. “It was different than a roommate, because I really liked her.” Like her, I quickly correct myself. “You know what they say. ‘Happy wife, happy life!’” I chuckle.
“Right.”
