This is a work of fiction. No one in here is based on living people. This story is copyrighted to me and on the slim chance you'd want to archive or pass this off elsewhere, please ask my permission.
I hope this will be a multiple-chapter series. I want to explore Phil's work and home life as well as the definitions of his sexuality, and maybe sexuality in general. If you're interested in this or have any other ideas for the story, please e-mail me. I can't go on to another chapter without your feedback.
I think I'm pretty sexy. I'm what they call "cute". I don't need reassurance of my good looks, but when I come home after 8 or 9 hours at work, I'd at least like a hug, a kiss, maybe a beer. Instead, my girlfriend usually doesn't even notice I'm there. We moved in together last year to save on money, but the number of times I've had to hear, 'this was my apartment first' cost me far more than my old rent checks used to.
Tonight I got home later than usual and Shana was reading a women's magazine.
"Very sloppy, Phil. I smell the stench all over you."
Tossing my jacket and tie in a chair, I tried to ignore the rest of her rant.
"I knew I was taking a risk when I started dating you, but I never thought you'd cheat. And with other men. I bet you have their piss and their semen all over you, don't you? No wonder you live in that shower."
Shana had flowing brown hair, a voluptuous body on a tall frame. She was in her early 30's, with a few laugh lines which added to her beauty when she smiled. That wasn't very often.
Yes, my girlfriend was obsessed with the idea of my having a gay affair. I'd told her dozens of times that I was not gay, or bi, that I loved her, but her last boyfriend had been familiar with every nearby "limp wrist and hard cock", as she called them. I had given up on denials and now just ignored her. I took a shower. Not a complicated process, but my intense and gradually increasing horniness took over. When I cut the spray off, toweling off took on a different tone. My years on the swim team and frequent workouts had given me a tight, conditioned body. Aside from a downy coating under my arms, down my legs, and around my crotch, my body has always been smooth. I went over to the mirror, studying my angelic features, thick lips, the crystal-clear blue eyes. At 27 I still get carded. I keep my hair very short, a buzz cut, as some sign of masculinity. I can understand why she thinks I'm gay. She's not the only one. Considering the many times I've been groped, felt up, propositioned by men of all ages, you'd think I might have become the world's biggest homophobe, but I didn't care. Let them have their fun, as long as they stopped when I told them I wasn't interested. I like women. I like the way their soft smell, their curvaceous bodies, the way they mold around my body when I slide inside them. If that doesn't make me straight, I don't know what does.
Sighing, I returned to inspecting my body. My long neck leads to hairless pecs, large and firm. My silver dollar-sized, pink nipples are puffy to the touch, easily erect when brushed by my fingers. I pinched the tips with my fingers, barely noticing when the towel hit the floor. My cock has always been strangely unproportioned to my body. It hangs 5 3/4 inches when soft; combined with egg-sized balls, the way I filled out a Speedo was obscene. Sliding a soft hand down my firm six-pack and faint treasure trail, I circled my heavy prong and began pumping. I could barely fit my hand around the girth. The mushroom, pinkish head trembled with the light scrape of my nails.
I was so horny, with my big dick trapped in those confining suit pants all day. Near the edge, I turned to face the mirror from the side. I'd never really studied my ass before, even though women and especially guys seem to love pointing off how nice it is. Studying the unblemished, creamy, jutting cheeks, I could understand their point. A few water drops had slid deep into my crack; I wondered how a finger felt. As I considered even more shoved up my hole, I shuddered. What was happening to me? I had to get out of here.
I made my way back to the bedroom, slid under the covers. That damn hardon was still a third leg, goppy and wet under the sheets. Shana was asleep beside me, or, judging my her breathing, pretending to be asleep.
"Shana, honey? You awake?"
She grunted and turned to face me.
"Not anymore."
The moon shone through the curtains, on her beautiful, scowling features. This was the part where I was supposed to apologize, grovel, I don't know. I wasn't thinking clearly, because all I could do was focus on the faint outline of her pussy lips through her white silk panties. My tool was screaming now, begging for exercise.
"I'm sorry babe, I'm so fucking horny."
She was always saying I wasn't enough of a man, and I kind of wondered if that's why she didn't complain when I shoved two fingers deep inside her snatch. Shaven, and as I slid down her panties, very moist to the touch. Suddenly I was deep between her legs, my ass hanging off the bed while I sampled her juices with my long tongue.
"Oh fuck, fuck fuck you bastard...don't even ask me do you...fuck my clit, suck it deep like you suck those cocks..."
Her nasty words were driving me forward. I thought about all the times I'd been told I was confused, needed to accept myself. I climbed on top of her shapely frame, slamming all hard 8 inches deep inside her. She screamed out my name while I hammered deep in her. The thrusts were violent, much rougher than either of us had ever experienced.
"OHHGGOOODDDD...is this like when you fuck a dirty ass...huh...ohPhilfuckmytwatHARD...."
I slipped two fingers back in her to push and press against her hard clit nub while I rotated my hips, timing my thorough jabs in time with the pinches against her button. She whimpered, cursed, purred, and her fingernails danced against my ass. Smacked and reddened the large cheeks.
"Bubble butt...so sweet...gets eaten out all the time right...UuuuNNNGGGHHH..."
I flashed back to all the men, old, young, black, white, Hispanic, thin, bodybuilders, who'd squeezed my buns, "accidentally" rubbed against me, leered at me. I could feel their hands, their tongues, their fingers...
Shana's fingernail dove deep into my crack. She knew right where to go. I saw all sorts of colors and shapes as my eyes hit the back of my head. I could hear a low, guttural groan, an animal cry. I could feel torrents erupting from my thick shaft, flooding out Shana's stretched pussy. I fell on top of her, slowly realizing what I had done, that I was the one who had made these sounds, felt these sensations.
Shana and I kissed, our first tender kiss in months. We looked at each other. Even in the dark, we both seemed to know we had crossed a line that night. I rolled off of her and tried to go to sleep. Tried to ignore the visions in my head, and hoped my day at the office tomorrow would be much simpler than my night at home had been.