On my sexuality (part 1)

There are a few questions I regularly get asked by lovers (or even friends) who know about some of my kinkier interests. Of those, the one that’s pretty much guaranteed to come up fairly early on is some variation of the following:

“So…um…guys? You’re kind of into them as well, right? Tell me more about that”

And so generally I do. The subject popped its head up last night, during a conversation with a friend on Twitter, not least because this time the questions were a bit more specific:

“When did that start?”

How into guys are you?”

“Have you ever done anything about it?”

“What would you like to do about it?”

By the end of the conversation, helped perhaps by the bottle of wine I’d just finished, I’d gone from calm and measured to fidgety, sweaty, tingly, and incredibly hard, purely as a result of talking through some of the answers to those. For that reason it seemed like a great topic for a blog post, albeit one that might require several breaks before I’m done writing it…

The first time I realised there was something I wanted sexually from other men was actually not all that long ago. In the mid-2000s, I was sharing a house with three guys. Two had their bedrooms on the ground floor, and the other two of us were up at the top of the house, in adjacent attic rooms. I knew one of the two down below before we moved in, but the guy who became my next-door neighbour was a stranger. And he was hot. Maybe not to everyone, but he had that whole Ewan McGregor vibe going on, and to my surprise I kinda noticed that.

As time went by, I noticed other things too. Because we were an all-male household, there was a relaxed approach to nudity. No-one walked round bollock-naked, but we were all pretty comfortable hanging round the living room in boxers or PJs, and inevitably we all ended up revealing more than we intended to at various points. With ‘Ewan’, the Eureka moment came one summer afternoon when I was working from home. My room was a freezer in winter and a furnace in summer, so every time I finished a piece of work, or got bored with Facebook, I escaped out onto the landing and stuck my face out of the window, desperate for fresh air. Some time after lunch, I went out there to find the bathroom door shut. I hung around for a couple of minutes, letting the breeze cool me down, and as I turned to head back into my room, the lock snapped and the door opened. Ewan did shift work, and came in and out at all hours of the day and night, so I wasn’t surprised to find him home now, taking a shower; he, on the other hand, was clearly very surprised that I wasn’t at work, as he walked out of the bathroom completely naked.

Maybe it was the way the towel framed his body, or the angle from which I was looking at him, or the fact I’d never seen it before – or maybe our eyes are just drawn to what we don’t consciously know we want – but as he padded over the carpet to his room, I couldn’t stop staring at his cock. It was semi-erect, like maybe he’d just been playing with himself in the shower, and it was totally different to mine: uncut, slightly curved and much longer, with balls that hung low between his legs. The foreskin was pulled back enough that I could see most of the head pushing through, and I felt a lurch in my stomach as I realised how much I wanted to take it in my mouth, right then and there.

For a while after that, it was all I could think about. I would lie in bed and make myself come most evenings at the thought of sucking him off out on the landing, him shower-fresh and huge in my mouth, working his cock in and out, then shooting down my throat. Gradually the fantasies became more and more explicit. Back then I had my (desktop) PC on a table beside the window. I used to daydream about him knocking on my door one day and just coming into my room, to find me watching porn on the computer, my cock already hard and in my hand. I’d have headphones on, so I wouldn’t hear him walk in – wouldn’t notice he was there till he’d seen what I was watching, and realised it involved two (three…four….) guys. I’d only notice him when he was standing next to me, his cock bulging through his PJs, next to my face. He’d take off the headphones, grab my hair, and hold me there, making me just look at it. I’d pull it out and suck him, probably only able to get half his length in my mouth, until he’d get really turned on and bend me over either the desk or the bed (the fantasy varied), spread my legs, and take me hard and deep from behind.

None of that actually happened, of course. As far as I could tell, Ewan was 100% straight, and although I found the idea of being fucked like that really hot, I didn’t know whether it was something I wanted to take any further. Not at that point, anyway.

(I’m going to call this Part One – the rest will follow in a separate post. If you’ve got any thoughts on this, or anything you’d like me to address in Part Two, please leave a comment below or get in touch via email/Twitter)

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2 Responses to On my sexuality (part 1)

  1. Pingback: On my sexuality: part 3 | Exhibit A

  2. Pingback: Strong Foundations | Exhibit A

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