Showing posts with label Bisexuality. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bisexuality. Show all posts

Thursday, August 4, 2022

Bifurcated Man (Part Two of Two Parts)

Markwildyr.com, Post #221

Image Courtesy of freepik.com:


 Last time, Joe Hunter, who’s passionately in love with his wife, Valdy, discovered a handsome client of his is interested in a casual relationship. Joe’s confused that he’s even considering the idea.

 Let’s see what happens next.

* * * *

BIFURCATED MAN

I tried to keep our relationship on a business basis, but eventually I accepted Rick’s challenge at racquetball, figuring it was a public, manly undertaking.  Unfortunately, I forgot about the shower in the locker room afterward.  The guy was built like he was sculpted from granite.  According to my night visions, he was hung like the proverbial horse, but in the flesh, he looked little better equipped than I was.

Later at the bar, he stirred his drink absently and gave me a smile.  “I measure up okay?”

“What?”  I hoped I kept the alarm out of my voice.

“Hey, it’s natural.  Checking out the other guy in the locker room’s a time-honored tradition.  By the way, you check out A-okay.”

I’m sure I blushed.  “Rick, will you quit this homo bullshit!”

His calm gaze unnerved me.  “Not homo.  Bi.  Bisexual.  Bifurcated…one limb with two branches.  Every man alive has some female traits, and I’m pretty good at picking up on those with more than their share.  You claim you’ve never been with a man, but I’m willing to bet there have been a few who caught your interest.  Deny it if you want, but you’re intrigued.  Next you’ll turn curious.  Then you’ll be interested.  And one day, we can enjoy one another.  In my candid opinion, that meeting will be cataclysmic.”

Like a certified idiot, I sat in the bar and got so looped he insisted on driving me home.  We were silent until he pulled up to the house.

“Thanks,” I mumbled.  “I’m not really drunk, but I appreciate you hauling my ass home.”

“I’m going to claim a reward,” he said.  “I’m going to touch you, okay?”

He took my stunned silence as acquiescence.  His hand landed on my inner thigh and slid up to my genitals.  He explored the shape of my cock and cupped my balls.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered.  “One of the handsomest, sexiest men I’ve ever seen.  Golden blond.  Great green eyes, sorta cloudy.  Not like green eyes usually are.  Good build.  A real man.  But your pheromones talk to my pheromones, Joe.  They scream like crazy!”

When my cock threatened to react, I pushed his hand away roughly and swallowed hard. But my throat was so dry I could not muster an objection.

“Thanks,” he said quietly, “I’ve ached to do that from the first moment I saw you.  I gotta confess, I go crazy imagining you fucking your wife.”

My temper finally flared.  “You leave Valdy out of this!” Was he was psychic? It hit me that however ephemeral, he shared our intimacies.

“I intend to, Joe.  This is just between you and me.  I don’t want anyone else in the bed.”

“Fuck you, Ailman!” I snapped, opening the car door and bailing out, dead sober now.

“You’re beginning to get the idea!” He laughed and drove away, leaving me standing on the sidewalk with my mouth gaping.

****

Valdy became the most sexually sated woman in New Mexico.  I made love her at the drop of a hat to reassure myself I was a man capable of satisfying the most attractive woman alive.  And then fate intervened.  Frigging, fucking, son-of-a-bitching fate!  William Henry Bannerman, Valdy’s father, had a mild stroke.  I accompanied my wife to New York, but Valdy stayed on with her mother while I returned to work.

I avoided Rick for the first week, but on Friday we both ended up at the same reception at the country club.

“How are you holding up, Joe?”

“Fine.  Do you know you’re the only person alive who calls me Joe?”

“I know,” he replied with aplomb.  “And Valdy?  I hear she’s back in New York.  Will you give her my best?”  I nodded mutely.  “Well, if you need me, you know where to find me.”

“Thanks,” I said, grateful that he moved on.

I left as early as I decently could, which was a mistake.  Unwilling to return to our big, empty, abode house, I drove around aimlessly, but when I passed the gay cruise section of East Central Avenue for the third time and caught the eye of a cute teen hustler, I came became frightened.  I was so sexually charged when I got home that I jerked off with an image of Rick Ailman in my head.  This time, it almost seemed he touched me with ghostly fingers.  God, I was torn in two directions…bifurcated, just like he’d said!

****

I held out until almost midnight Sunday.  Before I quite knew what I was doing, I dialed the phone and prayed he would not answer.

“Hello?” came the smoky voice.

“R…Rick?”

“Joe?  Joe, is that you?”

In some dark corner of my mind I recognized I had kicked over the traces to something I could not control.  I was right the first time…Rick Ailman was dangerous!  My voice box paralyzed with fear, I hung up, hands shaking violently.

I could have simply refused to answer the chimes, but I was standing in the foyer dressed only in my robe when he rang.  I opened the door and backed away.

“Joe!” he breathed, crushing me in an embrace.

All resistance collapsed.  I wanted to be in those strong arms.  I yearned for that full, sensual mouth.  I needed his hard body against me.  I kissed a man for the first time and was rattled to the core.  He laid me on the carpet and opened my robe.

“You are such a fucking man!” he breathed.  And then that overpoweringly masculine animal took me in his mouth.  The moist warmth was indescribable.  He tore off his shirt and brushed my smooth chest with his mat of black hair.  He kissed me again, and then drifted slowly down my torso, his lips and tongue trailing his fingers.  I broke into a sweat lying motionless on my back.  When his tongue twisted in my pubes, I placed my hands behind his head and guided him to my sack.  I got so hard I thought it would split!

He took me again, rhythmically bobbing up and down, twisting his head gently, curling his tongue around my glans.  I groaned aloud as Rick Ailman expertly sucked my cock until I could stand it no longer.  When I shouted a warning, he came up and jerked me to orgasm.  I erupted, spewing cum over my chest like an eager adolescent.

My glow of pleasure turned to alarm when he stood and shed his trousers.  His rigid cock pulsed with excitement just as in my dreams.  A small drop of pre-cum glistened at the slit.  He was bigger than I thought.  Thick.  The crown shone in the dim light of the foyer.  After displaying himself proudly for a moment, he straddled my body, sensually rubbing himself across my belly, moving slowly upward, leaking lubricant like a faucet with a bad washer.  For a moment I thought he had cum.  Groaning aloud, he rubbed the tip across my lips, presenting himself.

My feeble protest died as his cock brushed my mouth.  Suddenly, all I wanted was to please this exciting man.  My lips parted; he entered slowly.  Withdrawing, he pushed himself forward again, the bottom of his big rod riding over my tongue.  He poked against the back of my throat, and I gagged.  He withdrew and tried it again.  I controlled my reflexes this time.  Urgently, he began to thrust, making me forget my reluctance.  I put my hands on his butt and pulled him into me as he fucked my mouth.  Abruptly, he jerked away and shot all over my belly.

Without speaking a word, he rose and stood over me with a semi-hard cock dripping semen.  Rick Ailman was the sexiest human I had ever known.  When he reached for me, I allowed him to pull me to my feet.  Together, arms around one another, we mounted the long, curving stairway to the second floor.  I trembled at what was yet to come…fear or anticipation?  I would know soon.  I hoped I had enough stamina for the night…and an ample supply of sturdy condoms!

 * * * *

So now we know. Joe got together with Rick… and liked it.

 More Wildyr Tales, a second anthology of some of my stories, is due out in September. By the way, I have a third anthology nearly ready to submit to JMS Books called Gabacho and Other Wildyr Stories.

 My contact information is provided below in case anyone wants to drop me a line:

Website and blog: markwildyr.com

Email: markwildyr@aol.com

Facebook: www.facebook.com/mark.wildyr

Twitter: @markwildyr

Now my mantra: Keep on reading. Keep on writing. You have something to say, so say it!

See you later.

 

 Mark

 New posts the first and third Thursday of the month at 6:00 a.m., US Mountain time.

Thursday, July 21, 2022

Bifurcated Man (Part One of Two Parts)

Markwildyr.com, Post #220

Image Courtesy of freepik.com:



 You guys seem to like Gabacho. So do I, but let’s go to something new this week. Enjoy.


 * * * *

BIFURCATED MAN

Meeting Valdy, my future wife, during intermission at the Metropolitan Opera was a fantastic, unexplainable, gold-plated stroke of luck.  Actually, I had been wandering the fringes of the crowd keeping an eye on a handsome young stud who caught my attention.  Although I was at a loss to adequately explain it, I was occasionally attracted to some hunk, inevitably an overt heterosexual, although I merely speculated and never acted on such impulses.  There was this adorable young second lieutenant at Dix who tempted me mightily, but I had sense enough to keep some distance between us.  As I stood pondering my confusion in the foyer of the Metropolitan between acts of Offenbach’s The Tales of Hoffman, a stunning vision in a simple, elegant gown of Egyptian linen floated up and handed me a drink.

“You look like a bourbon man.  I’m Valdessa Bannerman.  Valdy for short.”

“Love it!” I lied gallantly. Single malt Scotch was my drink.  “Joseph Hunter.”

To make a long story short, five months later, Valdy and I were married in the Fort Dix base chapel where I had traded my banker’s three-piece suit for captain’s bars when I was called to temporary duty.  That handsome second lieutenant was my best man.

Valdy fit seamlessly into my life when we came home to Albuquerque a deliriously happy golden couple; me, tall, blond, and slender with manly lumps, and Valdy…Lord the curves she packed into that svelte form!  Her eyes were a pale blue that darkened when she was excited.  Mine were as green as the patina of a weathered cathedral dome.

I took immense pride in the adoration Valdy inspired among my social set, yet I was feral enough to recognize danger when it surfaced.  And Rick Ailman was dangerous.  Even so, the handsome, personable builder of luxury homes was of interest to me as a banker.  Five minutes after they were introduced at the Mayor’s Charity Ball, he had Valdy on the dance floor turning heads.  Thereafter, it seemed that everywhere we went as a couple, Ailman showed up to sweep Valdy into his hard-muscled arms on some dance floor or the other.  I held a tight rein on my temper but did a lot less kibitzing and a lot more dancing at public functions.

“I do believe you’re jealous,” she cooed once, a soft smile stretching those luscious lips.

“Nonsense!” I responded, beginning to color a bit.

Despite my denials, later, as I lay panting and exhausted, I realized the truth of it.  At the very moment of climax, I held an unwelcome image in my mind of a naked, dark-haired Adonis screwing my wife with his massive cock…Rick Fucking Ailman!

****

Vice Presidents are trumped by Executive Vice Presidents, and that is who assigned me the Ailman account.  Under such conditions, social encounters are impossible to avoid even though I put things off as long as possible.  Eventually, Rick took the initiative and not only invited me to a working lunch, but also a round of golf afterwards.  Albuquerque’s persistent spring winds had abandoned us until next year, but the true heat of the season had not yet arrived. Towering, snowy thunderheads far to the west blotted the sky, a perfect day for golf at a mile above sea level.

As we waited for the green ahead of us to clear, Rick parked the cart we shared in the shade of a cottonwood and stretched one foot out on the grass.  I dug dirt from my cleats with a tee.

“Glad to see you’re relaxing a little,” he said out of the blue.

I looked at him in surprise.  “Hey, I’m a laid-back sort of guy.”

“You are…except around me.  Your defenses always go up when I’m around.”

Since there was no denying it, I might as well get it out in the open.  “Gotta admit that’s true.  You set off my alarm bells.”

“Why?”

I shrugged and equivocated.  “I don’t know.  It’s just a personal reaction, I guess.”

I endured the study of his sable-fringed brown eyes for a long moment before he gave a low chuckle.  “It’s your wife, isn’t it?  You come on like gangbusters when I dance with her.”

“Look, drop it.  I’m capable of separating my personal and professional lives.”

His silence lasted thirty seconds; his gaze made me uncomfortable.  “You don’t get it, do you?” he snorted.  “Talk about babes in wonderland.  It’s not your wife I’m interested in…it’s you!”

I don’t know why I laughed aloud, probably because I didn’t believe him.  After a moment, he joined in.  Then some invisible power flipped a cosmic switch, and we sobered.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Dead serious.  Look, I like women.  Hell, I love women, but occasionally I swing from the other branch of the tree.”

“Not with me, you won’t!” I blurted.

“Joseph, modesty aside, I’m something of a cocksman, but occasionally I’ll spot a certain kind of a guy and my interest kicks in.  Right now, you’re that guy.”

Mental pictures of my curly-headed lieutenant danced before my eyes.  “Get over it.”

“Come on, are you telling me you’ve never made it with another guy?”

“That’s none of your business, Ailman, but I’ll answer you anyway.  No, I haven’t.  I’m happily married and in love with my wife.”

“What’s that got to do with it?  I’m not suggesting we fall in love.  But I want you, and just thought you ought to know.  If you’re going to tense up,” he added, easing the cart down the fairway as the last putter strolled off the green, “then do it for the right reason.”

Rick had been two holes down on our side bet, but after that announcement, I literally felt his eyes on my butt whenever I addressed the ball.  I never slice, but did an excellent imitation on four of the last six holes.  After we settled up on eighteen, I grabbed a quick beer in the clubhouse, it would have been unseemly to refuse, but begged off the customary gin rummy game in the card room and raced home.

Valdy and I usually made love; that night we fucked…with powerful images of Rick spilling masculinity all over the golf course spurring me on.  And that set the norm…an invisible hunk joined us in bed, except he no longer directed his impressive erection toward my wife…he offered it to me!

 * * * *

What has Joe gotten himself into? Or is that the right question. What is Rick drawing him into? That seems more like the more proper query. Let’s see next time.

 More Wildyr Tales, a second anthology of some of my stories, is due out in September, published by JMS Books. Thanks for their help.

 My contact information is provided below in case anyone wants to drop me a line:

Website and blog: markwildyr.com

Email: markwildyr@aol.com

Facebook: www.facebook.com/mark.wildyr

Twitter: @markwildyr

Now my mantra: Keep on reading. Keep on writing. You have something to say, so say it!

See you later.

 

 Mark

 New posts the first and third Thursday of the month at 6:00 a.m., US Mountain time.