parts 1-4, part 5

First, thank you for all the kind words earlier this week, it means a lot. Yes, Theresa and I have talked, no she didn’t move back in yet, yes we agreed to do couples counseling, no I don’t know when that will happen, but we aren’t jumping directly to divorce. In the meantime I decided to take back my sexuality. I realized that I hadn’t been in charge of my own sex life in a long long time and that was probably why I started flirting with the 21-year old college boy next door to begin with. Sex was always on Theresa’s schedule and on her terms, and over the last six-plus months was also less and less frequent with no explanation until this past weekend when she admitted to cheating. Not that my time with Brandon hasn’t been fun, but underneath that it’s been about taking back control. Maybe that’s also what writing about this has been for me as well.

The day after Brandon and I had sex for the first time I made him call his girlfriend, Hannah, and hand me the phone. She confirmed that yes, they had talked about me, and yes, she was okay with us playing as long as it was just physical, but she wanted to meet me, establish some rules, and see if we had chemistry as well. She was, as he had told me, curious about exploring her same-sex attraction and thought that I might be a safe person to do that with. We set a date for the three of us to get dinner Thursday evening, which was two days away.

As soon as we hung up, I told Brandon to come with me and brought him inside my house for the first time. I hadn’t showered yet even though it was close to ten. The split from my wife, temporary or not, was (is) still very fresh and I was struggling to wake up or go to sleep at reasonable times. I offered Brandon something to eat or drink, which he declined, and then I told him I wanted him to teach me how to suck his dick. Somehow he could still be surprised with my boldness even after the last three weeks and he clarified through wide eyes and a nervous stutter what I was asking. I am 37-years old, in an exclusive (at least from my side) relationship with a woman for the last twelve, and before that had far more experience with women than with men. Before marrying Theresa I’d touched fewer than ten penises and honestly probably closer to five in my whole life. If I was going to enter my slut era I wanted to be prepared. I also love watching Brandon squirm and feel ridiculously sexy around him, and any bit of validation was appreciated. So I assured him that I was entirely serious.

Once he believed that I did, in fact, want him to take his pants off and tell me how to blow it, he asked where I wanted to do it. I told him it was all up to him. Where did he want me to do it? He said right there in the living room. Should I take my clothes off or leave them on? I was still wearing my morning chores outfit, the old ratty t-shirt and workout shorts. He told me to take my shirt off but leave the shorts on, and I did. He kissed me for a long time and pet my belly, breasts, shoulders and neck. I put my hand over his shorts and felt him getting hard. He took them off, and his shirt, and pulled me down to sit on the sofa next to him. We kissed and petted for a while longer and then he told me to kneel on the carpet between his legs. Brandon definitely hadn’t showered yet either, but I loved the smell of his musk, let it sink into my face.

Over the next ten or fifteen minutes he talked me through all of the ways he wanted me to touch him. And while it wasn’t the first time I’d ever sucked a dick, I really did learn a lot. He told me to cover the head and shaft with soft kisses using just the tip of my lips, and deeper kisses with my whole mouth and tongue. He showed me different ways to use my tongue, pointed and tracing patterns up and down his cock and small circles all around the head, or spreading my tongue out, applying broad steady pressure right where the base and his ball sack meet. He lifted his cock up and had me put his whole scrotum in my mouth while stroking him, sopping wet from my spit. He had me kiss the inside of his thighs and under his sack. He had me put as much of his cock into my mouth as I could (which wasn’t much, to be honest; I definitely need practice) and bob up and down while steadily following my lips with my hand closed around him. He told me how fast or slow to stroke it, with my fist or with my fingertips. And the whole time he watched me, caressed my hair and face with his fingers. He told me when to look up at his face and he told me when I was doing a good job. Everything he said, I did, but I knew that I was the one in control. It was intoxicating.

What I really wanted was to feel him cum inside of me. I asked him if he would cum for me. He told me to ask again. I asked please would he cum for me. He said why and I said because I want to feel him cum. He said to tell him how much I wanted it. I told him I needed it. He told me to make it happen then. The confidence that Brandon, the timid college boy next door, gets when he’s hard is unreal and absurdly hot. I bobbed and stroked faster and faster, until I felt him tense from his thighs, then buttocks, then down from his core and up through his perineum, the energy gathering in his testicles and the base of his cock where I held him, then one last giant pulse and my mouth filled with his warm, salty-sweet cum, all of that power released from him into me. I tried to swallow it in one go, but I drooled a little out from the corner of my mouth, so Brandon wiped it up with his thumb and then put his thumb in my mouth so I could lick it off. If I wasn’t horny enough before, that made me wild.

But after kissing him for a short while longer, I got a hand towel out of the linen closet and tossed it to him to wipe his crotch and told him I needed to clean up. I had fallen behind on work, between the chaos of my marriage maybe imploding and me distracting myself with Brandon’s dick, and I needed to actually put some time and effort into some of my paid projects. I told him I’d see him Thursday for dinner and went off to shower (and yes, okay, masturbate) and tried to get back on track with a clear head. That was yesterday. Our date with Hannah is tomorrow.