Disclaimers: I am an adult. I wrote this story based solely on personal experience and have not infringed on anyone's copyright. This story involves homosexual sex between consenting males -- children will not appear in this or any future stories in this section. This story does not include blackmail, kidnapping, rape, minors, suicide, or homicide. Bareback sex is a risky sexual option, and this story does not encourage you to have unprotected sex. No links are provided to find this story elsewhere. If it is illegal in your jurisdiction to view, read, or have this material, or if you are a minor, you are asked to leave this story and this page.
Reader's note: I had planned one or two chapters of this little story about Mark and me. I am very grateful for the feedback received so far and decided to keep going until you say 'stop.' Feel free to email me at marcandme5@gmail.com.
Mark and Me
Mark and I decided to get married in September, just a month after he asked me to marry him. Ironically, we chose September because it was the month we married our wives years ago. We steered clear of both the days of the calendar. While I suppose women get excited about a wedding, we didn't plan anything elaborate -- a ceremony at the registrar's office in Pittsburgh, a nice dinner out because we were in town, and then home for the night before we took off for a week to South Carolina. We didn't have anyone we knew attend, and we didn't say anything either. It wasn't a matter of shame, but we were now accountable to no one except each other. And we both believed and not in any youthful idealistic way, that the paper was the least important part of our being together. It had some legal ramifications, but we didn't need it to confirm that we loved each other or that it added validity to our relationship.
Our trip to Myrtle Beach was our honeymoon. We, like most in our generation, were active long before we were married, and we had some great sex since we met. We wanted this week to be a memory full of fun and plenty of sex. At home, we wouldn't dare walk down a street together holding hands, but we knew no one here. Mark grabbed my hand the first day as we walked the beach. I instinctively looked around, realized we weren't in danger of being spotted, and gladly held his hand. It was late September, and the majority of the tourists had gone, so there weren't many people there. Those who were didn't pay attention to us anyhow. When he did it, I looked at him, and he smirked. I saw him puff out his chest some, and the act made him bolder. I liked his confidence. We walked barefoot in the cool water as the sun was heating up the atmosphere, not saying a word. It was nice to be with him. When we returned to the hotel, he sat on the patio chair facing the ocean. I got us a beer from the fridge.
"I'd like to retire here one day, you know," he said, kissing my hand while I gave him his beer.
"This would be nice. It's better weather, and it's more us friendly," I said, giving him a quick neck rub with my free hand before sitting beside him.
"I love you, and I want to be with you always. Here, we could have a social life, and we could be ourselves as much or as little as we wanted to be," he said.
"What's the change about? Don't get me wrong. You wouldn't have said two words a year ago, and I had only hoped about you. You were so straight that I never thought we'd go out, much less be married."
"What's changed is that I found someone I truly love. I didn't ever feel this way for my wife, as wrong as it's to say probably. As far as being straight, I think it's what you become used to. If I had more experience with men, I might not have been as straight as you think."
I sat quietly and was on the verge of becoming emotional. He had poured his heart out with such sincerity that it took my breath away.
"I love you," I said, looking at him tugging at my crotch.
"Hell, yeah!" he beamed, "and I love that, too. C'mon, let's go in and take care of it!"
We got to the bedroom, and Mark was practically tearing my clothes off me. I was glad I was in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. Everything came off quickly, and he was stripping before me. He pushed me down on the bed, and his mouth engulfed my hardening cock. It felt great, and in seconds, I was leaking precum on his tongue. He became more persistent with his sucking, and it felt as if I was on the edge of blowing down his throat. Being pretty perceptive, he took his mouth off my cock and jumped up onto the bed, legs back and up. I loved this man for his willingness to please me and his apparent thrill of having sex. No, we weren't in our 30s anymore, but for guys in our age bracket, I'm sure we had much more than the average couple. I knelt down and began to ravage his hole with my tongue. He moaned immediately and hiked his legs back further. I enjoyed this part of our foreplay. Mark totally lost himself in the sensation, and he had admitted that before the first time, he thought it was nasty. Still, afterward, he had changed his mind when I expertly worked him over in the pool.
"Damn, stud, get up here and fuck me. I'm ready, and I want your load, you sexy fucking beast!"
That coming from the guy who I thought was the sexy beast made my head swell and my cock throb. I didn't move him from the edge of the bed; I simply stood up and pushed in. Mark gasped.
"I'm proud you're my husband," Mark said. He turned red, not from embarrassment but ecstasy.
I began drilling him in slow but determined strokes, his already tanned legs on my torso with his ankles in my hands. He was writhing on the bed beneath me, his hands holding my hips, not guiding me, instead there to touch me somewhere while I gave him my cock. His eyes fluttered under his eyelids, and he was panting regularly. I might have delivered a predictable nailing, but it worked him up. His chest began to turn flush.
"Stud, you are hitting it right fucking again. Come with me; I'm almost there," he growled.
I let his legs rest on the bend of my elbows, leaned down, and grabbed the sheet at his armpit and one above his head. I was face to face with him, and he opened his eyes and smiled. I bent down and kissed him hard on the lips, moaning, "I'm there, stud!"
"I love you," I screeched as I began blowing the first shot of come into him. I had been on the edge for a minute anyhow, and getting down and kissing him brought me to climax. He let out a guttural moan, and somehow, even though I was on top of his groin, he began shooting his load between us. He grabbed me by my shoulders and held on to me for dear life. I could feel his orgasm make his hole contract on me. I knew it was powerful, but when I was ready to get up, he wrapped his arms around me and held me next to him for a minute longer.
"I love you," he whispered, "You're everything to me!"
Sometimes, his sincerity made me break down. I cried next to him as he consoled me. I wasn't sad; I was overjoyed and had never felt this type of love in my previous relationships. It would be frightening if I had paid too much attention to it. On the other hand, it was exhilarating, and I couldn't have been more lucky that it came from him. I loved this man like I hadn't loved before, and I knew and felt from how he acted, treated me, and spoke that he loved me back.
The rest of our honeymoon was spent in what could only be described as marital bliss. We had sex often and just rested with each other either on the beach or in bed. It was a perfect vacation to bond and become husband and husband.
I hadn't changed much about my schedule at work except that I asked for fewer hours, and Mark started gearing up for the busy season of digging wells. The guy was a dynamo, making breakfast and dinner for us when I was working and keeping up with the house cleaning and laundry. I helped when I was off work since I had long periods alone when he wasn't around. And I wanted to stay busy because I missed his company so much. The work passed the time, and I didn't notice my loneliness as much. When we were together, we spent it together, either cuddling up on the couch or working on a project we wanted to tackle. I can admit that I never put that type of effort into my previous marriage. It wasn't a pleasant thought, but it did not hold me back or make me feel guilty.
I had rented out my house mainly to keep it alive, active, and maintained. I was fortunate to have good tenants who paid on time, kept to themselves, didn't cause a ruckus with the neighbors, and didn't do more damage than regular wear and tear. Mark helped me get it ready to move in. I decided to leave it furnished since there wasn't much to begin with. Anything anyone took wouldn't have any consequence. I left with three totes of personal stuff, including my clothes, packed in the attic of Mark's garage. If anything motivated me to keep the house, it was my daughter. Housing had soared in the area, much like most of the country, and the American dream of home ownership was becoming out of reach for my daughter's generation. If times were tough, she could always move there without the lifetime of debt her counterparts were incurring to live in their own home.
One chilly early November evening, Mark and I were finishing dinner when he announced that he wouldn't mind much if I stopped working. His bookkeeper was leaving, and he needed help. We wouldn't work together side by side, but it would free up our evenings, and he'd double the money I made at the gas station. At first, I felt strange about the idea. It would mean not interacting with outside people, which tortures me to no end sometimes but is necessary to maintain an ability to act right socially. However, I didn't let my apprehensiveness show, so I asked for a few days to consider it.
"I'm stuffed," he said as he grabbed the plates from the table, "I want a good long hot shower and get to bed soon. Why don't you join me?"
Up to this point, we had kept our hygiene on our own time, yet we were doing more and more together, and this seemed like a natural step in the progression of married life. I walked over to him, grabbed his waist, and kissed his neck while he put the plates in the sink. He smiled, grabbed my hands, and turned around.
"You know, you're amazing," he said, "A year ago, I only fantasized about you. I never dreamed of being married to you. I never pictured being lucky enough to be in bed with you, yet here you are. I love you."
I hugged him tightly and kissed him again.
"You're so good to me, I love you. I never knew what it was like to be this in love with someone. It took too long to reach that point, but I'm glad it was with you."
We went to the shower together. I noticed a little vial of lube on the corner shelf and looked at Mark. He winked at me and said, "In case you wanted some."
I laughed, kissed him quickly, and showered with him. It was great; the shower was large, and we fit just fine with room to spare. Mark had his back to me and looked fine standing there with water pouring over his body. I grabbed the soap, massaged his shoulders, and slowly worked down his back. He groaned in pleasure as I manipulated his back with some solid and light alternating pressure. I worked up to his shoulders and quickly rubbed them to more groaning. I reached around and ran my soapy hands down his abdominals and down to his cock. My husband was raging. I grabbed it and slowly worked on him; he was rock hard and groaning.
"Not too much; I want you in me; I want your load," he groaned.
I got the soap off my hand and poured a little lube onto my firm cock. He knew what to say and precisely when to say it to get me in the right frame of mind. I had no sooner lubed up, and he put his hairy pucker on my cock and slid back, taking me in one strong push. I gasped; he was tight, and he felt great. I held his waist and began sliding back and forth. He bent over and held on to the water knobs, and got firmly planted on the floor to take a nice easy rough fuck. He groaned and gasped.
"I want your seed in me, Steve, come in me," he moaned, "Breed your husband's hole."
Mark got raunchy talking at times since he knew it would push me to orgasm quickly; this whole sentence took me there in seconds without thoroughly enjoying the entire act. But I loved him; I was happy to give him what he wanted. I swelled up even more and deliberately slowed down. Come shot violently into him and even he was surprised at how fast I arrived. That triggered him to start his own orgasm, and he held my hands that were holding his waist and began spilling his load onto the shower wall and down the drain. I moved my hands up to his chest and held him tight as the final spurts of my own load sputtered into him.
We went to bed that night with me wrapping my arms around him and holding him. He was content sleeping with his head at my chest and we drifted off tired but satisfied.
I decided to help Mark with his business, taking over for his retiring bookkeeper. By December, I had gotten a handle on things, and it wasn't too much work. I also decided that I wouldn't take pay from him because I wanted to help him more than be his employee. He initially protested, but finally, he accepted it, and we moved on. I did like the extra time we were able to spend together. I loved being around him; he was always in a great mood.
Christmas was approaching, and one evening after dinner, Mark got a call from one of his sons. He always answered his calls on the speaker without looking at the phone as he answered them.
"Dad?" Mark's son said.
"Hey Russ, how are you, son?"
"I'm good, Dad. I thought of coming to see you for Christmas and wondered if you'd be around."
"Sure, I'll be here. Were you thinking of staying?"
"Well, Dad, I hoped to spend it with you at home. I met someone and wondered if I could bring them."
Mark looked at me timidly, and I nodded. He did not need my permission to have his son visit him in his house. Before we married, he ensured I never felt like an outsider with no home. He always pointed out this is "our house, our truck, our business." I knew he was sincere and meant what he said, but it nonetheless felt like he needed my affirmation. How he would tell his son who I was would be up to him.
"Well," I said after he hung up with Russ, "I know you had to picture this happening eventually. What are you thinking of saying to him?"
"I'm not sure. You're right; I knew I had to discuss it with them sooner or later. I guess 'sooner' is here. I love you. There -- that's it. 'I love him and he's my husband.' That's it. They weren't particularly close to their mom near the end, but you won't be a step-anything to them. They're adults now and have their own lives just like we do."
"OK -- nothing wrong with that, and if you're good, I'm good. I love you." I reached over to hug him. He wasn't upset, but the call had shaken him a little.
Christmas was approaching, and Russ and his new girlfriend were due in a few days. I asked Mark if he had any plans to decorate and what we would have for dinner. He admitted that he hadn't given it much thought. Since I had wrapped up all the accounting and had a little time, I'd be willing to set up a small tree and pick up groceries for the holiday. He looked at me, relieved that I would take care of it for him.
I went to the local grocery store with better meats than Walmart and picked up groceries. Then I stopped by the Lion's Club tree lot and found a lovely tree. Mark was walking in as I finished putting it in the stand. Since he had had a long day, I went over to kiss him and hug him. He smiled, then looked at me and whiffed the air. I had a pot of coffee started when I heard him pulling up.
"You made dinner, too? Thank you! It smells great, and I'm hungry. Coffee too? You're my man!"
"I love you and figured you probably don't stop much at the gas station anymore," I winked at him.
He laughed, kissed me again, and gave me a big bear hug. "No, I don't stop there much!"
That night, after dinner, he and I decorated the tree together. We sat on the couch with a burning fire when it was finished. It felt good to be there next to him, sipping a beer and looking at the tree, which, incidentally, turned out nicely. We didn't say much, and I felt him dozing off.
"C'mon, stud. You're tired, and we should get to bed. We've got a busy few days ahead of us."
Russ pulled up in his truck the morning before Christmas Eve with Georgia plates. Mark was dressed comfortably and looked just like a dad would during the holidays, only better. I followed his lead in clothing, and when I saw the two of us in the mirror, it took my breath away. We looked great together, were a great-looking couple, and were rocking the dad look. Nothing could have been more traditional.
Mark went to the door to welcome his son home. I didn't hide in the background or go to the kitchen pretending to look over something; I stood next to the couch. I did, however, stand there with a beer in my hand. I needed something to settle my nerves. This would go one of two ways, and I hoped and prayed that it would go well.
Russ dropped his luggage at the entryway and hugged his dad. When he spotted me, Mark piped in.
"Steve, this is my son, Russ." I walked over to shake Russ' hand. He was the spitting image of his dad, and I smiled broadly.
"It's really nice to meet you, Russ." I gave him a warm, firm handshake, and Russ smiled.
"Where's your girlfriend?" Mark asked, but I saw a young man with luggage approaching the doorway.
"Dad, I don't have a girlfriend. I told you I was bringing a friend, and he's trying to enter the door."
Mark turned around and opened the door for the good-looking, well-manicured, neat-haired young guy standing there, unable to knock.
"Dad, this is Danny. He's the friend I told you about."
Danny looked at Mark, put his bags down, and shook Mark's hand. I smiled, reached out to Danny, and gave him a firm handshake.
Mark introduced me, "Russ, Danny, this is Steve. Are you guys too tired to go out tonight? I thought we could go to a new place that cooks a mean steak."
Russ looked over to Danny, who wasn't showing any discomfort and nodded.
"I didn't make up your brother's room for Danny, but we can get you two settled in and let you relax if you want."
"Sure, but we don't need Clint's room. Danny can sleep with me. I guess we should have a talk first."
"How about a beer for everyone? I know it's only 11, but I don't think any of us plan on getting plastered anyhow,' I suggested.
Russ nodded gratefully and sat down. Danny sat next to him on the couch. I went for the beer.
"So, what's up," Mark asked after cracking his first beer.
"Um, Danny and I work together on a job site in Macon. It's a new high school. And we're roommates."
Danny looked over at Russ and then at Mark.
"Actually, uh, Dad," Russ swallowed hard and deeply breathed. He looked at the floor, then at me and Mark.
"Actually, Danny's my boyfriend," Russ finally stammered out loud.
Mark smiled, looked at me, stood up, and walked to where Russ was seated.
"Get up, son," Mark said softly.
Russ looked furtively at Danny and slowly stood up. Mark reached out and grabbed his son, pulling Russ to him and giving him a big bear hug. Russ looked relieved and managed to wrap his arms around his father's back. Danny looked at me, not quite sure what had just happened.
"I love you, Russ," Mark said as he patted his son on the back, finishing up his hug.
He reached down, extended his hand to Danny, and pulled him up, giving him a hug, too.
Danny's face flooded with relief, and Russ smiled from ear to ear. I could see both young men feeling less apprehensive about the visit now.
"If you're happy, Russ, that's all that matters. I'm glad you found someone who cares for you," Mark said. "I know that took a hell of a lot of courage and I'm proud of you, son," Mark continued, "I guess I have something I need to tell you, too."
Mark looked over at me, sat down, and then looked back and forth between Russ and Danny. He had a discerning look on his face.
"I guess, in a way, you made this easier, but here I am tongue-tied. Uh, son, I've gotten remarried."
Russ looked around the open space to see where Mark's new wife would be.
Mark stood up and walked behind the chair where I was sitting.
"Steve is my husband, and I love him," Mark said clearly, putting his hands on my shoulders.
A look of utter disbelief came over Russ' face. Danny looked at him and poked him with his elbow.
Russ stood up, hugged his dad, and started tearing up.
"Are you serious, Dad?" Russ asked.
Danny approached my chair, pulled me up, and hugged me.
"Yes! We got married in September."
Russ reached over and shook my hand again, smiling, putting his other hand on my opposite arm.
"Dad, as long as you're happy, it's all that matters!"
"Russ, I'm happier than I've ever been. I could never picture a day without him. So, sit down and tell us about everything, work, what else you've been doing."
We all breathed a sigh of relief and started catching up and talking about work, relationships, and the future.
Mark and his son were animated, and while Danny and I were included in the conversations, it was nice to see Mark and Russ have more in common. We all enjoyed ourselves at dinner, and it was late when we finally got home. We all turned in shortly after.
When we finally lay down together, I asked, "Mark, did you have any hint that this would happen today?"
"No! I'm as surprised as he probably is. But I'm happy for him, and while Danny seems a bit polished, if I know Russ, he'll fix him up."
"I love you. I'm proud to be your husband," I said as I kissed his neck.
We lay still for a few minutes. Then I noticed a faint moaning, then a creaking bed spring. Mark looked at me and started laughing.
"You know, if we do that right now, too, they won't hear us," he said, his eyes twinkling.
We slipped into a nice rhythm and quietly but powerfully ended a long day, probably much like his son and boyfriend.