We’d been fucking around on occasion for about five years now. I’d met him at the tail-end of what I like to refer to as my “sowing my wild oats” phase. At the time, I had five other regular guys that I messed around with…not to mention the randos that I would come across on the hookup site that I frequented most often.
In a way, I suppose the fact that I had other men to focus my attention on worked out well for the both of us. He was married and really only wanted to get together every so often. Sometimes I’d see him once a week. Sometimes, weeks or even a couple months would go by between times I’d hear from him. He had me available when his schedule allowed and his libido yearned for me. Meanwhile, I had my other men to keep me distracted so I never had much time to have the so-called side-piece blues, wishing he’d leave his wife and sail off into the sunset with me.
In fact, early on in our dalliance, he and I had set some ground rules. Things were to be strictly casual. No strings. No emotions. No feelings. Just sex. At that time, I was all for it. Even though having sex with a bunch of different guys was starting to appeal to me less and less, I had done a pretty good job of convincing myself that there’s no way I’d be interested in settling down with anyone…not while I had so much of my life left to live.
But, boy… If ever there was ever anyone I’d want to settle down with, it would’ve been him. He wasn’t anything like my other regulars. Terry was all business…in the door, no pleasantries, clothes off, fuck and run. Jason was too sensitive. “Is this okay?” “Am I doing this right?” “I just want to make sure you don’t take what I’m about to say the wrong way.” I swear… It was almost liked we had to take a training course on boundaries and feelings before we could have sex each time. Kevin had too many hangups…he wouldn’t touch me, wouldn’t look at me while I blew him, wouldn’t reciprocate. Bobby treated us like we were just a couple bros helping each other out. He actually wanted us to fist-bump after sex. Have you ever…?! And as for Tim… I could kinda tell that he was really into me, but he never told me how he felt. Sex with him just felt awkward. You know the guy actually likes you but you don’t feel the same way. Anytime we ever got together, it was all I could do to get him out the door before the dam broke and he poured his heart and soul out to me.
But him? He was perfect in every way. A true dreamboat in my book. Rugged handsomeness mixed with guy next door good looks, salt and pepper hair, and a fit-but-not-too-fit body that looked great both in and out of clothes. He also had a disarming down-to-earth way about him. It was probably his Midwest upbringing that just helped pervasive kindness ooze from every pore on his body. I couldn’t believe his dumb bitch of a wife was either doing or not doing something at home to cause him to seek satisfaction elsewhere, but I was sure as hell glad that he was coming to me.
Another way he wasn’t like my other men was that he and I had actually struck up something of a friendship…or maybe just a circle of trust. We’d have sex. But, either before or after - sometimes both before AND after - we’d actually talk about whatever was going on in our lives at the time. He’d told me that he was a pretty prominent lawyer. When I say lawyer, I don’t mean one of those “you pay nothing unless we get money for you” ambulance chasers whose commercials you see on TV. He worked for a prestigious law firm that was prominent and had an excellent reputation in my city. He’d been married for 20 years and had one kid who - at the time - was a senior in high school (now almost done with college). It kind of blew my mind that a man THAT important actually wanted to spend time - in or out of bed - with me. That feeling only intensified once, feeling warm and fuzzy because of how much about himself he’d shared with me, I let him know how many guys were with him in my rotation. Maybe it was because I’d told him about my own life - how, even though we’d repaired our relationship now, my parents had not taken my coming out in stride at all and that I was working toward a career in education - that, instead of recoiling, calling me a two-dollar man whore, or looking around my bedroom and asking where the turnstile was, he just grinned at me and moved right along to the next topic of discussion. No judgement at all, which was nice.
It was maybe three years into our entanglement when having multiple sex partners went from “losing its appeal” to being almost revolting to me. I let most of my regulars drop by the wayside and I stopped trolling the hookup site for randos. In fact, he was really the only guy I was still getting together with. In a way, it was the sort of set-up I was looking for, But it also brought into sharp focus that I had developed some underlying feelings for the man that had grown to run very deep over the past few years. Over the next two years, I spent a lot of the time that he and I got together trying to hide the fact that I’d turned into the type of guy I’d never wanted to be: a third wheel with the side piece blues. I’d even conjured up a favorite fantasy that I leaned on pretty heavily when I wanted to jack off with a really intense climax: he’d sweep into my apartment, announce that he was divorcing his wife, we’d have the most passionate, mind-blowingly wonderful sex we’d ever had, and in the afterglow, we’d make plans to date and REALLY get to know each other before committing to a relationship even though we both knew that we wanted to be together. Things really do come full circle. My dream man was the me of our situation and I was in the same shoes Tim had been in with me before I’d eased out of our involvement a couple years ago.
That brings us to present day. For the past nearly three weeks, he’d been involved in a very prominent case. We hadn’t gotten together while the case was playing out, but I was surprised that he’d texted me a few times after the trial would adjourn for the day. The case he was on was so prominent when the time came for both parties to give closing arguments, it had preempted daytime TV to be broadcast. I was glued to the TV screen, but not for the reason you might think. I mean, I cared about the outcome and I wanted justice to be done, but he was all that was on my mind. That suit he was wearing…God damn he looked so fuckin’ good! With the case likely in the hands of the jury by the end of the day and him finally able to release whatever tension he might be feeling, he’d probably go home and nail his wife all night tonight. Lucky bitch! I wanted to be the one on the receiving end of that tension release.
I got a surprise when, along about 5:30, my phone buzzed. It was a text from him. “Hey… You have any plans tonight?”
I grinned. It was sweet of him to ask. I’d told him over a year ago that he was the only one I was having sex with anymore…unless you count my hand. I suppose, as far as he knew, I might be getting together with friends or my family. “Nope,” I texted back. “Just me and the TV tonight.”
A few moments later, his response came. “Room for one more? I know it’s last minute. I’m really sorry. I really need to see you.”
My heart skipped a beat. Maybe I WAS going to be the one on the receiving end of his tension release. “Sure! Come on by.”
“Great!” he wrote back. “I should be able to be there in an hour…an hour and a half at the latest.”
Before I could finish typing in a response, a follow-up text came in. “It’s probably way out of bounds for me to even ask because it’s more than what we are to each other, but… Any chance I can have the husband experience tonight?”
For a moment, I flashed with anger. The husband experience?! What am I…a prostitute?! All these years that we’d been building what I thought was a friendship and he just saw me as a vessel for his pleasures. But like I said, that only lasted a moment. I’d come to know him fairly well and I knew he wasn’t THAT guy. Thinking of me as a prostitute was more of a Terry kind of attitude. I typed a quick response of “you got it, bud!” into my phone.
Now was the hard part. What would the husband experience be? I knew next to nothing about marriage, much less how spouses satisfy each other outside the bedroom. It was then that a figurative light bulb went on over my head. Food! A nice dinner might be a good start. And, since I knew less about cooking than I knew about marriage, that meant ordering in. I called for delivery from a nearby high-end Italian eatery…a couple of entrees and a bottle of wine that the person who took my order insisted paired nicely with both of the entrees.
Forty-five minutes later, the food arrived and ten minutes after that, another knock came at my door. I opened it to find him standing there, the suit jacket I’d seen him look so sharp in on TV earlier in the day slung over his shoulder and his tie loosened, looking world-weary but sexy as ever. His eyes lit up when he saw me and I couldn’t help but smile broadly as I stepped aside and motioned for him to come inside.
After I shut the door behind him, I turned around to see him standing there. He’d slung his coat over the back of the couch and was looking at me. “So, you want the husband experience, huh?”
He smirked. “Yes. Like I said earlier, I know it’s a big ask since we’re not…”
I strode over to him and put my finger up to his lips to interrupt him. He stopped talking and stared at me, maybe a mix of confusion as well as irritation at being shushed. I spoke in a tone just barely above a whisper. “Then, the husband experience is exactly what you’re going to get.”
With that, I leaned in and kissed him. Kissing was something we did. He wasn’t one of those married “straight” guys with whom kissing was verboten. But, he didn’t kiss me back right away. I guess I’d caught him off guard because once his brain caught up with what was happening, he slipped his arms around me and began kissing me back in earnest. I heard and felt him sigh into my mouth and I could feel some of the tension he’d been holding in his body start to melt away as his body pressed into mine.
After a couple minutes of making out, the kiss ended. As I pulled back, I looked into his eyes while I ran both of my hands over the expanse of his toned but meaty, shirt-covered chest. “I didn’t realize how badly I needed that,” he said, matching the tone I’d spoken in before.
“This is your night,” I replied. “Whatever you need, I’ve got it.”
He chuckled. “Where do I start?!”
I backed out of his embrace. “I wasn’t exactly sure what the husband experience might entail, but I figured you’d need something to eat after such a long day.”
“Nice! I’ve been living off of takeout and vending machine food for weeks!”
I laughed. “Full disclosure… As I’m sure you’re already painfully aware, I’m not known for my culinary talents. I had to order in. But, it’s a real meal, not from a fast food joint or out of a plastic wrapper.”
He reached out and gently touched the side of my face and gave me a look that sent shivers throughout my body in the best of ways. “It’s perfect.”
After we’d sat down, opened the wine bottle, poured it for ourselves, and started in on the food, I did what I figured a loving spouse might do. “How are you feeling?”
He sighed heavily and turned to look at me. “My head is both spinning and swimming. I don’t know whether I should be feeling a huge release or if I should be holding my breath.“
“You looked good on TV today.”
“They broke into programming for the closing statements. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. You made me both horny and proud to say I know you.”
He smiled again, that same grin he’d given after he’d made a brief foible near the end of his statement. So disarming and charming. “I wish my wife would’ve said something like that. Instead, all she said was ‘good job today. hope it was good enough.’ I swear… Sometimes I think I don’t even exist as far as Patty’s concerned.”
I reached out to place my hand over his. “For what it’s worth, I thought you did a masterful job.”
He blushed before wiping the sides of his mouth with a napkin and taking a sip of wine. “I’m just one guy. There were over a dozen of us on this case and I wasn’t even the best one in the room. They all deserve credit for being masterful.”
“And if I’m ever in a room drinking wine and eating dinner with the others, I’ll tell them what I just told you. But right now, you’re the only one I’m thinking about.” I reached over and touched his forearm. “Are you okay now that you’re done trying the case?”
He grimaced. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not talk about it anymore. It’s a heavy subject. Besides, it’s been weeks since I’ve seen you Tell me how you’ve been doing and what you’ve been up to.“
I sighed and it was my turn to grimace. I always hate talking about myself. What’s the opposite of self-important and self-involved? Whatever it is, that’s what I am. I tried to get away with deflecting…something I figured probably wouldn’t work with a skilled attorney like him. “Oh, you know me. A little bit of this. A little bit of that. I’ve been doing alright.”
He gave me a knowing look before grinning at me. “Try again, Dan. I think you know me better than that. I want details!”
So, I proceeded to tell him about how I had put myself in pretty good position to land myself a teaching job for next school year and about some developments with a couple of hobbies he knew I had. It’s no surprise that he was always able to pull me out of my shell and get me to talk about my life.
After dinner, we took our glasses and bottle of wine over to the living room and camped out on the sofa, his arm draped over the back and me snuggled next to him. He surprised me by wanting to watch a little TV instead of moving right on to….well, you know.
It just so happened when the TV came on that a repeat of a recent episode of Real Housewives of New Jersey was on. What can I say? I’m a Reality TV junkie, I guess. “What’s this?” I heard him ask. “The Housewives?”
I was surprised someone who was as busy all the time as he probably was knew about one of the biggest guilty pleasures any self-respecting person could have. “You KNOW about the Real Housewives?”
He glanced at me and snickered. “Some of the people in my office love these shows. So do the wives of a couple of my buddies. Truth be told - and they’d never admit it - I’m sure some of my buddies watch these shows on the sly, too.”
“It’s addictive if you let yourself get hooked,” I smiled back at him. “I’d never watched an episode of any of the versions of the show until about 11 years ago when my mom got me started watching. Now, I watch all of them and she’s stopped watching altogether!”
There was a silence between us for a few moments as we both watched the screen…filled with a woman just this side of tanorexic who was screeching at the rest of the cast and waving a vibrator in the air. “This is the one that’s centered around the ex-con, right?” he piped up.
“Technically, these shows are all supposed to be about each of the women. And compared to what it was like a few seasons ago, this one has been focusing more on all of the women than just being about her. But yeah… This is the one with the ex-con.”
He chuckled. “Only on Reality TV do you go to jail for fraud and come out an even bigger star than you were before.”
“If it will help you not think less of me, this is my least favorite of all of the versions. Up until this season, I’d stopped watching New Jersey for about four or five years.”
He leaned over and planted soft kisses on my neck, trailing up to my ear when he whispered. “I could never think less of you, Dan. You’ve been a port of sanity in the storm that my life has become over the past few years. You’ll always come up Aces in my book!”
It warmed my heart to hear him say such nice things about me. When I turned to look at him to tell him how kind he was for saying such a thing, I noticed him grimace. “Is something wrong?”
“I took my shoes off before dinner, but my feet are still just killing me! I guess it’s the price I pay for standing on my feet for a big chunk of the day today.” When I scooted away from him down to the opposite end of the sofa, he looked at me, dumbfounded. “What? Do my feet smell THAT bad?”
I laughed. “No. Of course not.” I motioned up with my hands and patted my lap. “Put them up here.”
After a few more moments of going back and forth with him, coaxing him to put his feet in my lap, he complied, his black dress socks feeling soft against me. I didn’t really know what I was doing, but I started to work on his feet with my hands, hoping that my ministrations were acting as even the smallest of de-stressors. I’d been focusing on his feet - and trying to resist the urge to yank his socks off and tongue his toes - when i heard a deep exhale. I turned to see him with his eyes closed and his head thrown back. He opened his mouth slightly and let out the slightest of moans. It made me feel good to know I was making him feel good. But honestly, I didn’t need to hear his moans or see his eyes closed to have an idea that he was starting to relax. I could see the shifting in the crotch of his slacks. On a normal evening with him, I’d have reached up, unzipped, and whipped it out for him. But, tonight was about him…The Husband Experience, after all. We’d get there when he was ready.
He opened his eyes, looked at me, and grinned. “Amazing isn’t even the right word to describe it.”
“You still look tense.” It was the truth. For all the ways he’d relaxed and let loose since he walked in the door about an hour ago, he still looked like the weight of the world was on his shoulders, understandably so.
I nodded yes, continuing to work his feet.
“I guess I’m more knotted-up than I realized.” When he shifted on the sofa a little, I noticed him wince.
Perhaps a little more unceremoniously than I should have, I swung his feet off of my lap He gave me a confused look. But, before he could speak, I scooted closer to him, spread my legs and patted the front of the sofa. “Come and sit down here.” He hesitated, unsure of what was happening. When he didn’t move, I patted the spot again. “C’mon! But don’t back right up against the front of the sofa.”
It must have dawned on him what I had planned. With a smile on his face, he got up, moved in front of me, blocking the TV with his toned, slacks-encased ass (it was obvious this lawyer definitely made time to hit the gym), and sat down on the floor in between my legs. When my hands began kneading and massaging his shoulders through his dress shirt, it was blatantly obvious where the man was carrying all of his stress.
After a couple minutes of working on him, I could tell that my kneading was starting to work. He’d sighed and couple times and I’d felt him start to loosen up, but something was in the way and I knew just how to remedy the situation.
When I stopped massaging his shoulders and neck, he turned his head to the side and looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “Don’t tell me that’s it. You just got started!”
I smiled. “Oh no. The best is yet to come. But first, you gotta lose the shirt.”
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