Gay Dad

Gay Dad By Adam Stewart

In my early school days, I couldn't understand why the other boys got excited when they saw pictures of females. They certainly did nothing for me since I much preferred admiring the male form. I knew I enjoyed touching a boy's genitals whilst play fighting, but never thought anything of it.

Secondary school was different. I was relatively shy and naïve for my age, although physically, I developed early and became aroused very easily in the changing rooms, which was highly embarrassing. I was born in Putney on the outskirts of London in 1948 and at that time, homosexuality was illegal so certainly never talked about at home. I had no idea what being gay was all about and did not recognise what my body was telling me until I was in my early teens. By the age of thirteen, I knew I was different to others of my age. My brother is five years older, having been conceived whilst my father was home on leave during the war, so by my thirteenth birthday he had girlfriends and for all I knew, had experimented with them.

During my teens, it was unheard of to be gay. The only reference I can remember was being warned about older men in raincoats and that I should keep away from them. My feeling of being different, was not something I could have discussed with my parents nor my brother so I buried it deep inside me. I also had the feeling that my brother didn't like me. Even when I was a young child, he'd never let me play with him and once older, I was never invited to join him and his mates. We were poles apart and still are, but more about that later.

By the age of thirteen, I was conscious of my body. I was slim and tall so felt conspicuous whilst with others of my age. I was also well endowed when I compared myself with my fellow pupils in the showers and the changing room after physical education lessons. By this time, I was frequently bullied and called a poof by other boys so life at school was far from pleasant. The person who got me through this period, was my very special friend Richard. We were in the same class and we did everything together, both at school and at home. Looking back, I'm sure he was also gay but we never discussed it, although we enjoyed playing games which frequently involved undressing down to our underwear. I'd invariably end up with an erection and from what I could see, so did Richard.

I can also remember running around naked in the sun one day. It was during the summer holiday in our early teens and we'd gone for a bike ride. We'd found a quiet spot and removed our tops so were only in our shorts. Richard dared me to strip off and I agreed provided he did too. He did, so we stripped naked and ran around for several minutes before laying down in the sun. It was a perfect day and it was the only time I saw him with a stiff cock. As usual, mine reacted to the excitement of being naked and he held it. His own was soon hard and I held it. I remember thinking afterwards that I had to do that again but sadly never did.

As I grew older, my thoughts and feelings for the same sex developed, but I could never admit to anyone that I was attracted to men. When Richard and I were age fifteen, my world fell apart. He was involved in a road accident and died from his injuries. I was heartbroken and couldn't imagine life without him. I was so depressed, that I attempted suicide by overdosing on sleeping pills. My parents had no concept of how heartbroken I was or how depressed. I suddenly realised I'd been in love with him and I convinced myself that he was in love with me.

As a teenager, I felt I'd be thought of as a joke so never told anyone about my feelings. At age sixteen I had my first sexual experience. It was during the Easter holiday and I'd gone for a bike ride. I never found anyone to replace Richard, so spent most of my time alone. I'd gone into a public toilet and was standing at the urinal doing my pee, when a guy stood beside me. In those days, urinals were one long ceramic panel against which you peed so anyone standing close enough would have their cock on full view to their neighbour unless you covered it with a hand. Those with homosexual tendencies would stick their prize out for all to see, and I was no exception.

I soon realised that he was interested in my tool, so seeing we were alone, I slowly massaged it when I'd finished my slash. He moved closer and placed a hand around it.

"Nice cock mate."

It was the first time I'd been complimented on my manhood which boosted my morale so I felt good. I looked at his impressive tool and he persuaded me to touch it, which I enjoyed doing.

"Come back to my place and we can have some fun."

I was hooked by his charm and his cock. I had no doubts about going with him and did so willingly. He lived in a small flat nearby and once inside, he took me into the kitchen and undressed me. "Yeah, nice body. What's your name?"

"Adrian" I replied. I never did find out his name. Once naked, my cock became hard which pleased him. He stripped naked as I watched and told me to go on my knees and suck his limp cock. As I did so, I wondered how old he was. I could see he was a lot older than me, but how much, I didn't know. Thinking back, I'd say he was in his early thirties, so double my age.

When I'd got him nice and hard, he told me to bend over the sink. I felt him caress my arse and it felt good. I then felt a finger slip inside me and I realised what he intended to do. I was nervous and excited. I'd never had sex with another guy before; all I'd ever done was massage myself. Suddenly, I felt his cock breach me. I winced with pain as it stretched my entrance and wondered whether his cock would rip me apart. Then, I felt his length fill me up and gently fuck me. It was the most wonderful feeling I'd ever had and I knew without doubt that I was gay, although in 1964 the term `gay' was not in common use.

I left school at age sixteen with four GCE O' levels. I could have stayed on to study A' levels but I'd had enough of the continual bating by my fellow pupils about girls and being called a poof. I'd always enjoyed arithmetic at school and was good at it; one of my `O' levels being mathematics. I therefore decided, to join a local accountancy firm as a trainee. I first undertook a one year part-time Foundation Certificate course and having successfully completed that, I moved onto the Foundation Diploma course for another year of part-time study. This was followed by the one year part-time Advanced Diploma course and then a one year part-time Professional Diploma in Accounting course. Despite it being four years of hard slog, I enjoyed every minute. I made several friends at college and no longer was I subjected to abuse or comment about my sexuality.

Within this period, the 1967 Sexual Offences Act became law which decriminalised homosexuality in England. I was now nineteen years-of-age and unbeknown to my parents, I was enjoying numerous liaisons with guys. Some took place where they lived whilst others were undertaken in public toilets and cruising grounds, which to those in the know were many and varied.

At the age of twenty, I achieved professional AAT Accountant status so I was now fully qualified. I decided to remain at the same firm as they'd supported me through my training. Since I enjoyed the work and got on well with my colleagues, there seemed little point in moving on.

It was around this time that my family started to constantly enquire about my love life, with questions such as "Any lucky ladies in your life?" and "When are you going to settle down and get married?" Further comments about the importance of having kids, invariably followed these. The main pressure came from my mother and brother whilst my father made little comment. I went along with it and made jokes back about not finding the right woman but as time went on, I felt under extreme pressure. My brother had married at age twenty-two and produced his first child two years later, so I was expected to do the same.

Although I was doing well at my accountancy firm, a colleague recommended that I move on to gain wider experience. I therefore left at age twenty-two and joined a smaller accountancy practice in Shepherds Bush as a fully-fledged accountant. In those days, obtaining a new job was far easier than in today's climate. I had the pick of the field with three job offers to choose from.

I was still meeting guys for sex and now homosexuality was legal, gay venues started to appear. The Catacombes in Earls Court was the first I frequented and like most, it was a seedy underground bar. Despite this, it was good fun and a place where gay men like me could feel at home. Once inside, it was safe but you had to have your wits about you when you came out on the street. Even though we were now legal, the attitude of the general populace was one of disgust and there was plenty of homophobia around. To some extent, it was worse because we were news so there were plenty of roughnecks who were prepared to put the boot in given half the chance. I therefore exited such venues and made a hasty retreat, making sure that I didn't go down any dark alleys where I'd be set upon.

It was at the Catacombes that I met Phil. We were the same age and had much in common so we became good friends, as well as fuck buddies. Like me, he was versatile so we enjoyed each other all ways. He always said he enjoyed my cock up his arse, and I certainly enjoyed having it there. He was also under pressure from his parents to find a girl and get married. His father confronted him one day and said "You're not a fucking poof, are you?" Phil, of course, said he wasn't but decided to leave home. He rented a bedsit in Hammersmith which was where we spent many a happy hour satisfying our sexual needs.

In 1976 a nightclub called Bang opened in Hoxton. Despite it being in the east end of London where in those days being gay was even riskier than Earls Court, we all wanted to try it out. It was a fun place and everything imaginable went on but Phil and I were always very wary of the area, so we stopped going.

I was now twenty-eight and it was whilst at a straight friend's party that I met Barbara. She was very interested in me and I decided she was pleasant enough so didn't immediately push her away. A few days later she called me, having obtained my telephone number from my friend. I had left home two years earlier and now owned my own one bed flat which gave me plenty of opportunity to take guys back for sex. However, I was now under extreme pressure from my mother to get married and my brother called me a wimp plus a few other choice words. Because of the pressure, I was very depressed and again thought about ending it all, but didn't have the courage to do it. Barbara wanted to meet up and having received another long speech from my mother the previous evening about marriage and raising a family, I agreed.

We met and went for a drink which was soon followed by a meal together a few days later. She lived in a bedsit in Ealing but I never visited and I never invited her to my flat. After yet more questioning from my mother and snide comments from my brother, I started to consider Barbara as a possible wife. She wasn't particularly attractive but she had a pleasant personality so I let things drift on. During another round of questions about girls, I let slip to my mother that I was seeing someone but I quickly realised I'd made a big mistake. My mother was delighted on hearing the news and wanted to meet Barbara so she was invited to tea one Sunday.

After that, we went out together several times and she invited me to meet her parents who lived up north. I hesitated but finally agreed, so one weekend we drove up in the old Ford Anglia I had at that time. Her parents clearly saw me as their future son in-law which was all very embarrassing. A week later, she popped the question. In those days, it was usually the man who proposed but I guess she decided that if she didn't, I never would.

I didn't accept immediately and told her I wanted to be sure so went home to think about it. That evening, my mother called and said she thought Barbara would make a perfect wife. How the hell she knew, I had no idea but said nothing. I also didn't let on that an offer of marriage was under consideration.

"It's time you settled down" was her parting shot. I thought about it well into the night and decided I could probably live with Barbara. At the time, my plan was to put up with marriage for a couple of years and then divorce her on the basis that it wasn't working. I hoped that my mother would then accept that I wasn't made for marriage.

The next day, Barbara called me to get my answer so I said `yes'. She, of course, was delighted even though I'd made the proviso that the wedding was to be a small affair. Both sets of parents were also delighted and my brother left a message on my answerphone saying "About time". I ignored him and avoided his calls whenever I could.

The wedding took place six weeks later and was held in the town where Barbara's parents lived so I had to stay in a hotel overnight. I spent the night in torment trying to decide whether I was making the right decision. I didn't want to get married but I was depressed because of constant pressure from my mother, not to mention the snide comments from my brother. The only person who stayed out of it was my father, although I wish he'd said something so I knew what side he was on. I therefore, had virtually no sleep and by the morning was feeling like shit plus I was still asking myself whether I could go through with it. At one point, I decided I couldn't but then wondered how I could face the onslaught from both families despite knowing that Barbara would probably have accepted my decision.

I crawled out of bed, showered and dressed into my new suit before going down for breakfast. I was far from being the happy bridegroom when I met my parents. My brother had declined the invitation saying he couldn't make it, although I didn't believe him but was pleased he wasn't there. Finally, we walked to the church nearby and I waited for everything to kick off. To this day, I don't remember what happened since I was in a daze and wondering what the hell I was doing. Eventually, I realised the service was over and we were being driven to the reception, which as requested was a small affair. After the wedding, Barbara and I went for a two-week honeymoon in France.

It was an odd honeymoon, not that I had experience of what a normal honeymoon was like, but from my viewpoint it was more like an ordinary holiday. Apart from a bit of petting there was no sex and we acted like two tourists who happened to be married. During our entire marriage, I never saw my wife totally naked and neither did she see me. Fortunately, she was not highly sexed because the thought of doing it' with a woman made me want to puke. I can only remember having proper sex with her on two occasions within the first two months of marriage. I knew she wanted at least one child, so forced myself to do the deed. As I did so, I imagined it was with one of the many guys I'd been with and somehow got through it. Fortunately, she fell pregnant on the second attempt so after that we came to an agreement' that no more sex would take place. It hadn't been discussed but it just happened and she seemed happy to go along with it. Whether she found satisfaction from elsewhere, I have no idea but if she did, it didn't bother me.

My son Keith was born in 1977 and the arrival of a baby meant we had to move into a larger property so I purchased a terraced house in Paddington. The new baby was the saviour of the marriage; he was a delightful little chap and always appeared to be happy. As he grew older, I realised I couldn't break up the family unit so resigned myself to many more years of marriage until he was independent of his parents. During Keith's first year I did my best to stop thinking of guys so had to tell Phil that I couldn't see him any more. He was devastated but understood why, since he was under the same pressure. He told me a few months later that he'd also married and we lost contact.

My job now involved traveling to visit clients in major cities such as Manchester, Birmingham and Leeds. Although I didn't realise it at the time, it enabled me to keep my sanity. Barbara stayed at home to raise our child having given up her job as a school assistant. During my travels, I found boyfriends in each place so instead of staying in hotels, I had the comfort of a warm bed and having sex with each guy.

In Manchester, I met Darren who was a year older than me. He was a big guy and delighted in fucking me. We'd frequently visit Canal Street where all the gay action took place. He also loved threesomes so if I was staying for two or three days, he'd arrange for someone he knew or had met for a session with us. I loved these sessions and being the bottom for the two guys who'd dress up in their leather gear and stick their stiff cocks through their harness so they could fuck me. After these sessions, I'd go home with a sore arse, but it was worth it.

Earl was the guy I met in a gay bar in Birmingham. He was three years younger than me and had a stunning body. Whenever we went out together, I had to fight off the competition. He had a beautiful arse which he loved being fucked so whenever I was with him, I was always the top. Trevor was my guy in Leeds. He was a cute twenty-two-year-old who loved older guys. The first time he saw me the other side of the bar, he made a beeline for me. We hit it off immediately and became good friends. He also loved being fucked and I was more than happy to oblige whenever we were together.

I first became aware of AIDS in London in 1982 although I'd read about this terrible epidemic in Los Angeles before then. At first, those I had sex with didn't take much notice and we carried on as usual. We all took the view that it would soon blow over. In 1983 I started my own accountancy practice with Leigh, who was a colleague of mine at the firm in Richmond. The founder of the business had retired and the new owner made some disastrous changes which affected staff morale and the service to clients. I'd always dreamt of running my own business so Leigh and I decided to take the plunge. I provided the capital to set it up and made Leigh a partner.

Since he lived close to where I lived, we found an office in Paddington. At age thirty-three, Leigh was two years younger than me, but an excellent accountant. We'd already worked together on assignments so knew we'd make a good team. To start with, we employed an admin assistant but knew we'd require more staff in due course if things went well. As soon as some of our regular clients at the old firm heard we were leaving to set up a new business, several of them came with us. These included those clients of mine in Manchester and Birmingham, who also had offices in London, which was brilliant. It also meant that I'd still be traveling to those cities on a regular basis and having fun with Darren and Earl.

It was later in 1983 that I watched two friends slowly die of AIDS. I'd met them separately in a cottage I frequented. The first time we sucked and wanked each other off in a cubicle but on the second occasion they each invited me back to their place where we fucked. They didn't know each other, but both knew me and we'd had sex, which in those days was unprotected. I was convinced that I'd also been infected and would die of AIDS. The only thing I knew was that I'd not done it with them for several weeks before they became ill.

I first heard about Jim through another friend so went to see him in hospital. I knew he had no family having been ostracised by them because of his sexuality so guessed he'd feel very alone. Although very weak, I could tell he was delighted to see me. He'd lost a lot of weight and looked very ill; his skin being covered with sarcomas. I was shocked but tried not to show it as I held his hand. I asked the nurse what other visitors he had and she said I was the only one. I knew he had other friends because I'd met them but none of them visited. Over the next two weeks I visited every day and watched his decline.

A few days after my first visit, I saw Ron lying in a bed next to Jim. Neither knew each other and both were too ill to be introduced to one another yet here they were slowly dying in the same ward. At first, I barely recognised Ron because he'd lost so much weight and his face was now gaunt. When I took hold of his hand he looked at me and gave me a weak smile. He too had been banished from his family and I never saw anyone else visiting him so I split the visiting time between them. Jim was now rapidly slipping away and at times didn't know I was there so I'd move to Ron and hold his hand.

Jim died at the end of two weeks and the nurse told me he'd slipped away during the night. "I know he appreciated your visits so at least he knew one person cared." I was touched by her comments and felt tears in my eyes as I asked what would happen to his body since his family didn't care. She told me that with no family contact, the council would arrange a cremation. I couldn't let that happen so I contacted the appropriate authority and said I'd arrange and pay for one. A few days later, whilst I was making the arrangements, Ron died. His deterioration had been faster than Jim's. Since he too had no family come forward or anyone else, I agreed to arrange and pay for his funeral as well.

The nurse said I was an angel but I certainly didn't feel like one. I felt it was the least I could do in the circumstances. They'd both been good friends over the years so I wanted to do this for them. It was a double cremation and I was the only mourner. Their ashes were scattered over the garden of remembrance at the crematorium and I paid for a simple plaque. It gave their names, their dates of life and a simple message that said `In remembrance of my two good friends who didn't know each other but who died of AIDS in the same ward within days of each other. May they rest in peace.'

All this came at a difficult time with a new business to run but Leigh was very supportive and understood why I wasn't fully focused on work. I'd decided to tell him my secret because I knew I could trust him to keep it to himself. I was glad I did because it helped me tremendously.

The business quickly grew and within a few months it was thriving. Several months later, we heard that our old company had gone bust so we had more clients knocking on our door as well as staff who'd been made redundant. We couldn't help them all but we took on three accountants, two admin staff plus a finance assistant, who was very cute. We also had to move into larger premises which we found nearby. It was a struggle at first, but we were soon making a handsome profit.

I was still leading a double life and traveling to Manchester and Birmingham. I'd also met Gerard in a bar called the White Swan in Limehouse. It opened in 1986 so gays flocked to it to try it out. It was good and is still going after thirty years. Gerard was an artistic type and I liked him very much. He loved being fucked by my big tool and couldn't get enough of it. He also smoked hash and got me onto it, although I only ever smoked it when with him. I spent many a night with him, pretending to my wife that I was away on business, and had a great time. He also owned a cottage in Cornwall so he invited me to join him for a long weekend. I accepted and told my wife that it was a conference. It was in June and the weather was perfect so we spent most of the time sunbathing naked in the garden in between sessions of wild sex. The cottage was miles from anywhere so we had no nosey neighbours around us. It was a perfect few days and we both enjoyed ourselves immensely.

Life continued much the same for many more years. I led my double life leaving my wife to run the house and bring up our child. Thinking back, I wasn't a very good father since I seldom did the kinds of things that fathers do with their sons because I was either away on business' and when I was home, I was busy running it, but he never complained. He was a popular child so always had plenty of friends, many of whom were girls so at least he hadn't inherited the gay' gene from me, and he never did without anything since I had plenty of money to spend on him so in the overall scheme of things, he did okay.

Keith finished his education at age twenty-three, having obtained a degree in economics. He found a job and one day I asked him if he wanted a place of his own now he was an independent adult. He said he'd love to but couldn't see how he could despite earning enough to pay for a mortgage. I encouraged him to make that step and said I'd give him the money for a deposit on a house. Within a few weeks, he'd found what he wanted and finally left home. I gave a big sigh of relief as I helped him pack his things and move into his new home.

At last I knew I could get my own freedom so I sat down with Barbara and explained that I'd been struggling with my sexuality for years and couldn't continue living a lie so would be leaving her. To my surprise, she took the news very well saying she fully understood and agreed to a divorce so I acted immediately and spoke to a solicitor. We'd also agreed that the house would be sold and she'd move in with her parents until she could find a flat near them. I too had to find a flat and eventually found one not far away. The house sold quickly and I made a handsome profit so I gave Barbara half of the proceeds to purchase something for herself in due course.

Finally, we went our separate ways with good feeling between us and the wheels of the legal process slowly turned before eventually granting a divorce. Once I was settled in my new home, I knew I had to inform Keith of the real reason for the separation of his parents. I invited him over one evening and we sat facing each other. I started by saying I needed to explain why his mother and I had separated and were seeking a divorce. He sat there passively whilst I continued to explain how I'd been struggling with my sexuality most of my life but avoided saying I'd only got married because of continual pressure from my mother and snide comments from his uncle. When I'd finished, I waited for a response. I so wanted his assurance that it wouldn't upset the relationship we had, which was good despite my numerous periods away.

He smiled and said it made no difference to him who I went to bed with and hoped I'd be happy. I felt my body physically relax and let out a sigh of relief before we hugged and kissed. After he'd gone I jumped with joy. Not only was I free but the one person I loved had accepted me being gay. I poured myself a stiff drink and thought about my new life. I also had to decide who I told. I was now fifty-two and we were into the new millennium. Both of my parents were dead by this time so I no longer had to explain it to them. My brother and I had not spoken since my mother's funeral two years previous and I pondered whether to tell him the news. In the end, I wrote a letter to him in which I said "For many years I've been trying to come to terms with my own sexuality. I have struggled with the fact that I am gay and need to start a new life. Barbara has been very supportive although I fully appreciate the tremendous blow this has caused her. We are what we are and had I tried to cope any longer I would have ended up with a nervous breakdown and made life miserable for her." I ended the letter with "I hope you'll understand" although I knew the chances of that were very slim.

Several days went by, during which I expected a phone call from him to expound his feelings about having a gay brother and how disgusting I was, but heard nothing. I eventually received a letter in which he said "It's just as well our parents are dead." Quite what he meant, I'm not sure but had no intention of finding out. We've not spoken or been in contact with each other since. As many friends told me, it's his loss, not mine. I also found that the so-called friends I'd made in my guise as a married man, also dropped me but again I wasn't bothered.

I decided to no longer hide the fact that I was gay at work and told Leigh the news of my separation. Despite being a happily married man, he was very supportive and between us the news slowly came out. I had several employees make positive comments and one new finance assistant told me he too was gay so was happy to work for a gay boss. If anyone didn't approve, they didn't make their views known to me or Leigh. As he said "You're the boss, so if anyone doesn't like it they know what they can do". Nobody did leave so we assumed everyone accepted the situation.

Once out of the marriage, I found that I wasn't afraid to be openly gay anymore. The social fears I once had were evaporating daily as I developed a new self-worth as a normal human being instead of a failed excuse for one. I was now a strong, independent man, and being in my early fifties focussed my thoughts on what was realistic to hope for in the future. I suppose many of us who `came out' late in life look back with a little pang of regret about a wasted youth when we were physically in better shape and had our whole lives ahead of us to live the life we'd always wanted to lead.

Now I was living alone again and no longer had to hide my gay life, I went mad on the gay scene, which of course by now had exploded from those early days. I picked up several guys in bars and clubs and on occasions frequented the well-known cruising grounds. I used the gay social network sites for a while but decided I preferred meeting my sex partners in the flesh rather than looking at an electronic image. Despite my age, I met numerous guys who were interested. Most were younger who enjoyed having fun with older guys. Over the next couple of years my small flat resembled a knocking shop because of the one-night stands I had but I loved every minute and I hope they did too.

I met guys of all shapes and sizes with different desires. Some wanted to fuck me and others to be fucked. Some were leather guys and loved dominating me, often having me crawling on the floor whilst they whipped my butt before stuffing their big hard cocks up my arse. Whatever it was, I loved it and they also had a great time. On occasions, I picked up twinks so I'd be the master and fuck their cute arse with my big cock.

It was during this period that I met Tom. He was thirty-five and for some reason hooked himself onto me. We frequently smoked hash and he made it very clear when we first met that he hated using condoms and would only have bareback sex. Up to now I'd been very good and always used protection but my brain that night wasn't in gear so I agreed much to his delight. I was on a high having smoked hash and I was desperate for sex having not had any for a few days. When we were both starkers and he told me to get on my knees so he could fuck me, I offered my butt like a lamb for slaughter.

He had a big cock and I couldn't wait to feel it inside me. As he pressed the large naked head into my arse, it felt wonderful and reminded me of the sex I'd had pre-1980. We became good friends and for several months we were fuck buddies, or to be more correct, I provided an arse to fuck whenever he wanted it. Like most gay men on the scene, I tested regularly and each time the result was negative but the test six months after meeting Tom was positive. I was retested just to make sure but that too was positive. I was devastated and immediately called Tom but he never answered. I left a message for him to call me without saying why but he never did and we never met again. It was obvious that he knew he too was positive and since he was the only guy I'd had unprotected sex with since 1980, I was certain I'd become infected via him.

However, as they say `there's no point in crying over spilt milk'. It was my fault as much as his so I had to move on. I was immediately put onto ARV drugs which had improved immensely from those of earlier years but they still had side effects. I suffered depression, sweats, stomach aches and nightmares, and still do but at least I'm alive, unlike Jim and Ron. I also found there was a lot of prejudice within the gay community about HIV and frequently when I met guys who were interested in going home with me and I admitted my status saying I was on treatment and provided we used protection I was safe, many walked away.

I met Spencer in 2004 at a friend's party. He'd come along with another guy who immediately dumped him as soon as they arrived so Spencer was feeling pissed off. We chatted and I suddenly realised I was falling in love with him. He was a lovely guy who was eight years younger than me and had a beautiful smile. As we drank and talked, I had a feeling that he liked me too. Either that or he was desperate to get off with another guy because his so-called friend had dumped him. I later found out that he'd only met the other guy two days before and he'd taken Spencer to piss off another guy he fancied.

However, after several hours of drinking, I invited Spencer back to my flat. As always, I told him about my HIV status and that my viral load was not undetectable so any risk of passing on the infection was minimal. He immediately said it wasn't a problem for him and even admitted that knowing what he'd done in days gone by was surprised that he too hadn't become positive. I immediately kissed him and it became intense. He felt me and found my cock was rock hard. I felt his and it too was hard but not as big as mine. "I hope you like using this to fuck guys" he giggled. I said I did so we thanked our host for a great party and made our way home.

Once there, we didn't waste any time and soon had each other naked. We fell onto the bed and within no time I had my big cock, suitably booted of course, up his arse. We spent the next hour fucking and he loved it, as did I. As it was now well past midnight, he stayed over. The next day was Sunday so neither of us had work. I invited him to stay and we had many more hours of exciting sex.

From thereon, we met up several evenings a week and each weekend. We both knew we were in love with each other and had found our future partner. Spencer had never been married or had a partner. As he put it "I've had a string of boyfriends but nobody who I wanted to settle down with, until now." We looked at each other and fell into one another's arms. "I love you" he whispered.

"I love you too" I replied before asking him if he'd like to move in with me. He said yes and the following weekend we cleared his rented flat in Hackney and he moved in.

As the weeks and months passed by, we both knew we'd made the right decision. We were now a proper couple and introduced each other to our friends as partners. When Leigh heard, he was delighted and kissed me. I was surprised at his sudden outburst but I could see he was genuinely happy for me. Life went well over the next year, during which the Government passed the Civil Partnership Act which allowed same sex couples to enter a partnership which gave similar rights to those of a married couple. The first registrations took place in December 2005 and we decided to have ours in early 2006.

We chose wedding rings and I felt so relaxed and at ease with myself than I did the first time round when it was with my ex-wife. Being gay isn't the issue it used to be, and although I still look around a little self-consciously when we're shopping together, and especially buying wedding rings, most of the time I'm okay with it. I know that some of the self-consciousness will never really depart and I doubt I'll feel comfortable holding hands in public. I can't cast aside a lifetime of conditioning, but each year that goes by, I feel better about being openly gay.

The night before our ceremony, I was as excited as a five-year-old on Christmas Eve. It was a far cry from the eve of my marriage. The ceremony was being held at the local Registry office and the senior Registrar was officiating. There'd not been such a big change in marriage legislation for years so everyone was very excited. Leigh acted as my best man and Spencer invited a long-term friend to be his. I passionately repeated my vows and gazed into my lover's eyes as I did so. Every word meant so much to me and I could feel that he felt the same way. I heard the Registrar pronounce us as Civil Partners and we kissed. I wasn't the slightest bit bothered that I was kissing a man in front of friends and the Registrar and supporting staff. It felt the most natural thing in the world.

We'd booked the reception at a gay restaurant in Soho. We were their first Civil Partnership celebration and they were delighted. It was a sit-down meal for the ten of us and they pulled all the stops out for us making it a memorable occasion. The whole day was wonderful and one that I shall never forget.

Due to work commitments, neither of us could go away immediately after the ceremony but we went to Palm Springs a month later. We had a fabulous time and made love at every opportunity. This too was so different to my other honeymoon. We were in love and we didn't cease telling each other, or showing it when we had sex. Although it had taken a long time for me to be an openly gay man, I was the most content I'd ever been. Some might judge me for being cowardly or taking the easy option when I married a woman, but that isn't a fair reflection of what happened; nor was it without it's sacrifices. Sometimes we must make decisions that feel right for us at the time. Some choices don't work out, some don't feel like choices at all, but I don't have any major regrets. Life now was good.

My life continued in perfect happiness for the next ten years. I was still madly in love with the man of my dreams and my business had exceeded all expectations. No longer did I stay away on business except in very exceptional circumstances, because I wanted to be with the man I loved every night. I never tired of having his warm naked body up against mine every night and making love to him so I sent one of my trusted staff to service my clients in Birmingham and Manchester.

It was mid morning when I received a call to say that Spencer had collapsed at work. I asked what had happened and the person calling wasn't sure but I needed to get to the hospital where he'd been taken as soon as possible. Leigh said he'd drive me as I was so worried. I grabbed my jacket and asked my assistant to manage the best he could. The news sped around the office in no time and as Leigh led me to out, everyone gave their best wishes and hoped that Spencer was okay.

As Leigh drove, my mind was in turmoil. I tried to think what could possibly have caused Spencer to collapse and be rushed to hospital. He had good health and was never ill. It was me who had to regularly visit the HIV clinic for blood tests and ensure the drugs were still doing their job. I also tried to imagine life without him; I couldn't.

Leigh drove as fast as he could without breaking the speed limit or going through red lights and eventually we drove into the hospital car park. We rushed to the emergency department and I announced myself. Within seconds I was taken into a ward and saw my love lying in a bed with a doctor and a nurse bending over him. The person who'd accompanied me explained who I was and the doctor asked me to wait a moment whilst he continued. When he'd finished, he took me to one side and explained that Spencer had suffered a massive heart attack. I asked if he'd be okay and he replied "We've done all we can".

I looked at Spencer who was lying with his eyes closed, a mask over his face and leads connecting him to a machine. I sat down, kissed his hand and held it. "Don't leave me; I love you so much" I said with tears pouring down my face. Was this the end of our beautiful life together?