She looks at me uncertainly at first. She knows that something is different between us, and that my lack of availability for the last 24 hours has been an ominous thing. She nonetheless invites me into her apartment, and we sit for a bit. Realizing that there is no way to avoid the issue, I come right to the point of explaining to her that our short lived relationship cannot continue. I have no idea how I form the words that I tell her, but it seems to make little difference since she sits and stares at me not quite meeting my eyes, but avoiding my look by an angle as if she is looking at something to my side. "I am sorry Libby" I lamely say, trying to think of ways to cushion the blow, but she just sits there quietly for a moment and then confirms that she knew it wouldn't last. "I clearly didn't please you." she says in an accusatory voice. "It's not all about you Libby, any more than it's all about me. Sometimes things just don't happen and it's no one's fault." She rolls her eyes at this, clearly having heard some variant of the argument before. "I never understood what you were doing with me to begin with." she says dismissively. "What is that supposed to mean?" I query. "You've been sleeping with me for over a month, but you clearly don't get anything out of it." she says bitingly. "How do you know what I do or don't get out of it?" I ask. "It's not like you can fake an orgasm. You never climaxed with me once." I feel my expression darken. "I told you when we got together that it took time for me to get to that point. I don't climax easily until I've been with a woman for at least a few weeks to a month." This statement was almost a lie until I qualified it by specifying that I was talking about being with a woman. It wouldn't have helped anything to explain to her how I met a lover who could get me off not just the first time we made love, but every time we did. She feels bad enough without knowing that her romantic rival is a man that she goaded me into kissing. At any rate, it is irrelevant since she refuses to accept from me any explanations regarding my past sexual experiences. It soon becomes apparent that the conversation could go on for hours, and so I put a coda on the conversation by saying "Look the bottom line is that this isn't working for either of us, and I feel like I'm harming you. I don't want to do that or be that so I think we need to step back and be friends. If you don't want to be friends, that is your choice." She laughs bitterly and says "We weren't friends to begin with." I shake my head and say "All right then, if that's the way you want it." I stand up and leave without another word. There's no malice in it, and honestly I don't feel that bad. If anything, I feel relieved.
I come home and check my voice mail. There are 4 or 5 messages from Libby that I mostly delete and then I find one from you. "Just calling to see how it went. Give me a call when you get this, and let me know how you are." There's a feeling of heat that creeps up the base of my skull when I hear your voice on the phone. I don't call right away but sit down and collect myself a bit. It is literally the first quiet moment I've really had since I ran into you at Biddy's. I try to slow my heartbeat down but I can't. It's all too present for me to just push to the side. The feeling isn't exactly one of panic, but it feels close. Up until now I pretty much went with the flow without questioning what it meant. Now, back in my own apartment, the memory of what happened becomes somehow more real than ever.
I look at the phone and at your number, written on the back of your business card. The time stamp on your voicemail was a couple of hours ago. I contemplate tossing the card away and hoping you don't call back, but I know that would be childish and stupid. I pick up the phone and begin dialing your number nervously, hanging up a few times before finishing. When I finally do let myself finish, there is a feeling of commitment when the phone begins to ring. I hear it ring three times thinking it will flip over to voice mail. Then the phone picks up and I hear your voice say "Hey there." "Hi, I just got home" I say simply. "How are you doing?" You say, to which I respond with the typical answer "fine". We make small talk a bit before I finally say "I talked to Libby." You are quiet for a moment before asking how it went. I give a brief synopsis of what passed. "Are you OK?" you ask. "Well, Libby and I didn't have much of a relationship, so I don't really feel bad about it." "I knew that Tom, but that really wasn't what I was referring to." you say softly. "I know."
There is silence for a bit until you say "Do you want to talk about it?" "I don't know." I reply. Another pregnant pause. "Do you want to come over?" you ask. I feel the heat at the base of my head again. "I'm not sure. I need to do some laundry and pay some bills." "You can do your laundry over here if you like. I have my own machine so it won't cost you anything." I stammer a bit before you say "Hey, it's cool if you'd rather stay home tonight, but the invitation is open if you want to come." "Thanks." I say somewhat shyly. "No pressure, really." You say. We say goodbye and hang up.
I jump on the computer and do my bills, and then think for a moment and do some searches on homosexuality. Initially most of the sites I find are nothing but porn which I don't bother with. I try modifying my search basically trying to find something that gives me some idea of what happened. I eventually find a couple of articles that don't really tell me much but make reference to men discovering they're gay in their mid 30s and 40s. The articles suggest everything from repressed homosexuality bursting forth to simple mid-life crisis. It doesn't tell me much that I hadn't already thought of.
I go into the living room and try to watch some TV, but there's nothing on I really have any interest in. I feel restless, and start to pace from one room to the other.
It's not long before I am knocking on your door with my laundry basket in hand. You open the door and smile. I smile shyly and come in. You take the basket from me before I have a chance to say anything, and then put your arms around me and kiss me. Again, I don't have a lot of time to think about it, but I also find myself responding pretty much automatically. "I'm really glad you came back." You say. "I'm sorry I didn't call first." I say uncertainly. "It's OK, really. I was hoping you'd come."
We eat an amazing dinner complemented with a red wine that you say you bought the last time you were in Napa. I don't say a lot but you don't seem to mind. After dinner, we sit on the sofa and talk. "I wasn't sure you'd come back today." You say. "I wasn't sure I would either." I reply somewhat uncertainly. "You don't have to explain anything to me, Tom. I'm glad to see you." The heat at the base of my skull again. "You are?" I reply. "Well why wouldn't I be after the last two days?" I feel my cheeks redden. "This all happened really fast." I say. "Yeah, it did, didn't it?" you laugh back. "Is it too much for you?" "I really don't know." I reply. "We can slow down if you like." you say. "That might not be a bad idea." I reply. "Then that's what we'll do. We'll take a step back and give you time to catch up."
Later on, I am naked, lying in your bed with the taste of your semen in my mouth and throat, I revel in the touch of your hand on my belly. So much for trying to slow things down. My cock begins to stir a bit, having emptied itself into your mouth a short time earlier. My heart continues to pound well after my orgasm. I'm very conscious of my nakedness as your hand moves from my belly to my thigh and leg. We say nothing for a long period of time until you ask me how I am. I reply simply "I feel good." I'm still not used to pillow talk with a man, but at the same time I feel myself stiffening again under your hand. "You have a fantastic cock, you know that?" I hear you say. "I never considered it before now." I reply somewhat bemusedly. "That's a shame." you say. "It really is gorgeous, both hard and soft." I reply breathlessly "Thank you." My breath becomes shallow as your strokes become lighter and more teasing. The lighter your touch, the harder I seem to become. You cradle my head in your arm as you tease me. "Look at me" you say as your fingers slide down my face to my lips. I feel your fingertips enter my lips and I gently suck them. After a time your wet fingers move to my erect member and stroke it slowly. The slickness of your fingers makes me shudder. I keep my eyes fixed on you as best I can when I come. The force of my orgasm makes my eyes water. I close my eyes and feel your lips on my eyelids.
I wake up some time later and see you lying next to me. I now realize that I am going to wind up spending the night here again. I don't have to worry about clean clothes since my laundry has all been washed and is sitting in a basket by the bed. I look over at you and see your back to me. I let my eyes look at the contours of your back, the broadness of your shoulders. I turn toward you and touch your arm. You stir a bit and take my hand, pulling it around you in your sleep. I pull up close to you and feel my cock harden against your body. I honestly cannot remember the last time I had so many erections in the period of a day. I pull up close and kiss the nape of your neck. "Goodnight lover" you say. I flush with heat, and then repeat the words. "Good night lover". When I wake up in the morning, my arms are still around you.