Come on Down
Bisexual Male, Ménage
Fiftysomething James has a much younger girlfriend. While fooling around with Caylin, James has a flashback to a gay experience when he was eighteen, causing him to yearn for another experience with a man. Caylin is more than eager, and she arranges a M/M/F threesome with Stefan for James and her.
Caylin left for work long before I woke up. When I finally rolled over and opened my eyes, it was almost ten. The anxiety set in right away, and it took a few minutes for me to put my finger on what bugged me. Rodney. My morning wood jumped at the thought of my old friend. I hadn’t seen him since that night. He’d gone back to school, and two weeks later, my grandmother died. We sold her house, and my mother took Barker in. Every time I looked at the damn cat, a spasm of regret-tinged arousal stabbed through me. I still blamed him and his damn ball of yarn for setting me up to walk in on Rodney.
Rodney. My first blowjob. Compared to my other lovers, he was terrible at it, but his enthusiasm and my inexperience made it electrifying. I hardly remembered what he looked like after all these years, but I remembered his cock in detail. It was shorter than mine, but thicker with a head that looked like an inflated version of those straw mushrooms that come in a can. His pubic hair was sandy brown and wild. Funny. I know what color his pubic hair was, but I couldn’t tell you what color the hair on his head was. I definitely wasn’t attracted to him like I was to Caylin. I didn’t want to kiss him or snuggle with him. All I wanted was his cock. I yearned for it.
My phone chirped from the nightstand. Meet me and Stefan at marina bar at 6. Don’t chicken out.
Stefan. I forgot all about Stefan. My stomach leaped, my cock stiffened, and my brain went into overdrive. I knew the goal was to get together for sex, but she didn’t tell me where we’d do it. Or what exactly we’d do. Or even if we’d do it that night. For all I knew, we’d have a couple drinks and make a date for another time. I wanted it too badly to wait. I was as impatient as a kid waiting for Santa. I wanted it now.
Sexcerpt (XXX if available):
All I wanted to do that night was watch the Spurs game, but Caylin, my new girlfriend, derailed my plans. I could have insisted, but it wasn’t the playoffs, and I was hoping to get laid. I’m a forty-eight-year-old divorcé, dating a thirty-year-old with a thing for Adam Sandler. If she wants to watch Happy Gilmore, I’m gonna watch Happy Gilmore. When she handed me a beer and settled between my legs on the couch, I smiled. Sex was gonna happen even if I didn’t watch the movie.
I watched the beginning, but Adam Sandler rubs me the wrong way. I think it’s his stupid voices or something that make me want to change the channel. As far as sports go, the only one I hate more than hockey is golf, and this spectacular piece of film featured both. I nuzzled Caylin’s hair to distract myself. It worked until I dozed off.
I wanna kiss you all over. Adam Sandler’s annoying voice broke through my dream, rousing me a bit. Caylin turned to me and kissed me on the lips. “You wanna kiss me all over, hon?” She gave me a sexy smile and turned back to watch the movie.
“You know I do,” I said, smiling even though my nerves were screaming. I liked the song, but his voice made it intolerable. I leaned forward and kissed her neck, brushing her skin with my lips, but Caylin was having none of that.
“C’mon, James. It’s my favorite movie!” I sighed into her hair and dropped off again.
Cay’s giggle roused me again, and when I opened my eyes, my evening changed. Not just my evening though, my whole life changed.
The image assaulting my vision would have knocked me over if I were standing. The golf pro with the wooden hand stood behind Happy Gilmore with his arms around his waist, rocking back and forth. “It’s all in the hips,” he repeated as he rocked perversely. I’m not a homophobe, but my reaction was harsh and unexpected.
The disgust that rose up in me wasn’t rational. I’d seen the movie before, and I knew they were gonna have sex or anything. It was a visceral reaction, starting with a rumble in the pit of my stomach and crawling down into my balls. At that moment, the idea of two men together made me want to vomit.
I reached up inside Caylin’s sweater, hoping tits would cure my nausea. It worked temporarily. Caylin’s were nicer than my ex-wife’s, a little smaller, but perkier, and with long nipples that begged to be sucked. I gave them a tweak through her bra, and she rewarded me with a butt wiggle against my groin. I wasn’t hard, but I was gonna be if she kept doing that. I kept my hands up her shirt while the movie played on, but I didn’t shake the image of the men standing dick to ass.
My unease grew as the movie progressed until I heard a voice that turned my discomfort into a miserable mix of disgust, fear, and something I didn’t expect—arousal.
“All right, Happy. Nice and easy,” said Bob Barker on TV. My balls tingled and the hair on the back of my neck stood up. “That was NOT nice and easy.” Bob Fucking Barker. His voice cut through my grogginess and punched the discomfort up to a scream in my head I couldn’t ignore.
What the fuck was my problem? Bob Barker was making my skin crawl. What the hell was that about?