This story is based on truth, although the names and situations have changed.
I had been working with Joe for three years, we were friendly but not exactly friends. Work colleagues. Both working in a busy supermarket, filling shelves, unloading pallets. Just getting on with the job. He was in his late thirties, slim (some would say a little skinny) and well over six foot. From the limited conversations we had had it was clear there wasn’t a lot of common ground. He liked his football, his beer and although currently single, I knew he had a number of girlfriends because he would talk to others about them. I was the opposite. Gay, average height and build and fifteen years his senior. He was good looking, looked younger than his actual age and quite handsome in a geeky way.
The balance changed when one day, he was busy unloading a crate of tinned goods, I heard him singing to himself, nothing unusual in that. But the tune was very familiar. “That’s from Les Misérables” I said, because I knew my musicals. “Yeah,” Joe shot back. “I’ve seen it at the theatre, I love it.” Hang on, you go to the theatre? I thought to myself. “I love musicals”. Why did I not know this? I thought beer, football and women were the limits of his culture. Clearly I had unfairly labelled Joe as a cultural moron. I immediately opened up about the theatrical shows I had seen myself, and a conversation started whilst we both got about our work tasks about what we had seen, and what we wanted to see. Later in the day, as we passed each other in one of the aisles (could have been household goods) I boldly asked “Would you be up for going to the theatre sometime together, if something came along we both wanted to see?” I wondered if he would want to go out socially with me, as everyone knew I was gay. “Absolutely,” came the reply “I never turn down a trip to see a good show.” And that was that, over the space of a few hours I had gotten myself a new theatre buddy. It took a few weeks before an opportunity presented itself. I had been planning to see a big new musical in London with a female friend, and mentioned it to Joe. “When you get tickets, I’d love to come if that would be OK?” Well yes it would. I got tickets and the three of us had a day trip on the train to London (about a 100 minute journey) and we had the best day, having a meal and seeing one of the best musicals I’d seen in a while. Joe was great company, chatting away to my friend and I, making us laugh and generally brightening up our day. It was during that day I started to realise how sexy I found him. But no good going there, I thought. I am older and he is straight. But the friendship continued to blossom. We started to meet in the local pub, and he talked of taking me to a football match. I hadn’t had any interest in that particular sport but he seemed keen to educate me by taking me to see his favourite team in Manchester.
Within a couple of months we spotted a theatre show in Manchester that we both liked the sound of, but hadn’t yet seen. So we booked tickets. I said, it would be nice to stay over and have a late drink on Canal Street (heart of Manchester’s gay village). Joe said he’d had a drink there with some friends in the past, and liked it, so we set about looking for a cheap hotel room, which we easily found a short walk from Canal Street. We had talked about me being gay and coming out of a long relationship, which hadn’t been easy and Joe was sympathetic, and none judgemental and I found that a bond was forming, but I am not sure what it was. Friends yes, but I sensed something more. I told myself not to be silly. Joe was just a nice guy, not interested in me, or indeed any man. Sure enough the day of the trip arrived, and we checked into our room with the twin beds and went to see the show (which was brilliant) and headed onto Canal Street. We got back several hours later, not drunk but certainly feeling good, and stripped off to our underwear and got in bed. I didn’t see much of his body as he sat away from me on the far side of his bed, but as he pulled off his T shirt there was a football related tattoo on his back. But being tired, I switched my bedside lamp off and drifted into sleep. When I awoke the next morning, it was already 10am and I knew we had to check out by 11am. I gathered what I needed and nipped into the small bathroom and had a shower. When I came out, I decided Joe needed rousing. “Wakey wakey Joe,” I said loudly. “Its gone 10.15 and we need to be up and out soon.” A sleepy voice said, “Okay, give me a minute” Then started the stretching and yawning as he forced his body back into the land of the awake. He threw back the covers and swung his long legs to the side of the bed away from me. Then he stood up and started more stretching. This was the first time I had seen his lithe body. As he turned towards me I checked out his various tattoos – homages to his favourite television programmes mostly. He stood facing me, a light smattering of dark of hair covering his chest and descending to a trail just above the hem of his boxer shorts. And then there was the bulge from his boxers. It was not huge, but an impressive mound. I suspected he had some morning wood. “I’d better jump in the shower,” he half yawned and started to browse through his overnight bag for fresh boxers and t shirt. And without much modesty off he went. As I heard the shower spring into life, I knew he was one sexy guy.
I had asked Joe about his previous relationships, and he was a big vague about it all, just saying he had been to such a place with his then girlfriend or that he had once been engaged for a short time but it didn’t work out. Then one day as I was driving us to a local theatre to see something which turned out not to be that great, out of the blue he said “When I was young, I had a fling with another man.” It came as a bit of a shock, as I hadn’t got any vibes that he might be interested in another guy, aside from our blossoming friendship which was becoming ever more close. He went on to reveal that in his late teens, he had met an older guy and it had developed into a physical relationship. Only a handful of times but he had enjoyed it. But then he had decided he liked girls better. I found it to be a mixed message. When we were at the theatre, I questioned him more and he said that whilst he generally preferred girls if the right man came along, he wouldn’t be adverse to another same sex situation. So my instinct was right, there was something more to our friendship or was I just perceiving it that way? Was he directing the comments to me or just generally.
The situation was playing on my mind. By now I knew I was falling for him, and he was doing nothing to discourage that but then again was not exactly encouraging it either. The balance changed when we decided that instead of day trips to London we would go down for four nights and catch several shows all in one swoop. So the planning started. We each booked theatre tickets, and sought out some train deals. When it came to accommodation, we knew London could be pricey (heck, the theatre tickets had cost as much as a holiday to Spain) so we looked online for bargains. The chain hotels were not particularly cheap. I said I had stopped at apartments just around from Euston in the past, they were studios with a kitchenette, bathroom and a bed. I said they would have been perfect but they do not do twins beds. Joe immediately said “If the price is right, it doesn’t bother me sharing a bed with you, we’re both adults.” Yes we certainly were. I showed him the website of the property and he liked the look of the studios which were modern and clean, so he said “Lets book it!” And that’s what we did. For the first time Joe and I would be climbing into bed together. One half of my brain said, this must be it, the next step, but the other half pulled me up and was keen to remind me, I might just be taking 2 and 2 and making 6. So I was cautious as the weeks passed, we continued our friendship at work and in the pub. and the date finally arrived for the London trip.
The week in London was just brilliant, we took in five shows (four evening and an afternoon matinee) plus a couple of tourist attractions, but in the day we were content just to wander the streets, trying bars and chatting about the metropolis that is London. The nights were not awkward, we stripped down to our boxers, got under the sheets and chatted away about what we had seen, and the agenda for the following day until we both drifted off to sleep. On the third day, Joe was unusually up before me, went out to have a cigarette (which you had to do, as the studios were non-smoking) and then went to the shower. I finally got up and wandered over to the kitchenette, passing the bathroom but he had left the door slightly ajar and I could see him towelling himself off. The bulge in his boxers turned out to be a lovely uncut cock, with a nice bush of pubes at the top, I lingered only for a handful of seconds but then got out of the way in case he saw me perving. But it was enough to know I wanted a taste of his length, which was average but very inviting.
The final night we were sad because it had been such a lovely and enjoyable trip. We had seen some of the best theatre and ended the trip with ABBA Voyage, we were on such a high after it. The joy of the music had summed up the trip. We had a couple of drinks and headed to bed for the final time in London. Both giddy with our experiences. As usual the light was switched off but this time, I instinctively felt he wanted me to make a move. As we talked in the darkness I moved over to his side of the bed, closer than I had been up to now. He did nothing to discourage it. I told him I was sad it was all over, and would miss our larking about and the happiness the shows gave me. I felt him shuffle and all of a sudden his arm came over and pulled me in even closer to him. He turned towards me, and our lips met. “I have wanted to do this for months,” he whispered as his tongue went into my mouth. We started full on kissing, getting more animated as it went on. My hand reached under the covers and onto his boxers, like me there was no doubt he was hard. I began to very gently rub his cock through the boxers, he stopped kissing and told me “Its a long time since I have done anything with a man, so please be gentle as I am very nervous.” He had told me a long time before he suffered from anxiety and clearly sexual situations like this were a trigger. “Trust me” was my reply. I pushed back the duvet and started kissing his arms and chest, using my tongue for extra pleasure. The tiny little breaths and moans giving away the fact that Joe was clearly enjoying it. When I got to his boxers, I kissed his dick through them. “Is it OK if I take these off?” I asked him. “I guess so” came the answer. So in the darkness, but with the street lamps bleeding through the curtains, I pulled down his boxers, slid them off him entirely and started licking his hard dick. Sliding slowly up and down the shaft, I pulled back his long foreskin and took the head in my mouth. I could taste the pre-cum which started to ooze out. With his moans getting louder, I worked on his length giving him a full on sensual blow job. It went on and on. “Fuck yeah, that’s amazing” he breathed, as I worked his cock. After some time, with his breathing getting faster, he pushed my head away, “I’m cumming” and in that instant squirts of stringy cum shot to just above his pubes. “You’re amazing” he said when he shot the final spurt and fumbled with his foreskin to make sure the last drop had been given. I reached to where I had placed his boxers and wiped away his cum. “My turn now”. Joe sat up and without me saying anything, pushed me back on the bed lying down as he had been, and quickly pulled off my own boxers which housed by wet dick, covered in pre-cum. “I have only ever sucked dick once before,” he told me, “So I might not be any good.” Well he was good, pretty much doing exactly as I had done to him. “I’m getting near” I told him breathlessly after a couple of minutes, “Cum over my chest” he commanded. Laying down for me, as I started to wank, bringing myself to a sticky climax, I covered his chest hair with warm white cum. Wiping it away with the boxers, I lay down next to him and once again his arm came around me, pulling me closer. “That was fantastic”. I asked him when he last had sex. “About 18 months ago, with my ex-girlfriend. She was nowhere near as good as you at a blow job though” he laughed. We kissed a little more, pulled the duvet back over us and finally drifted into very happy sleep.
I wondered if the next morning was going to be awkward. We had been giddy with ABBA and alcohol the night before. When I felt him stirring next to me, I sat up and said as cheerfully as I could muster “Morning!” “Morning “ came a much more sleepy reply. We were both naked still, and I told Joe we need to be out of here by 10am (earlier than the hotel had been some months before) “I’ll jump in the shower.” So without bothering to cover my nakedness, walked over to the bathroom and got in the shower cubicle. I had only been in there a couple of minutes, when through the haze of water I saw the door open and in walked Joe, also still naked, and got straight into the shower cubicle with me. “Might as well save water where we can” he said, with a cheeky grin. It was a tight squeeze, as the shower area was small. Both of us went from semi to hard, we soaped each other all over and kissed as we did do. Gently wanking each other, but not cumming. We helped towel each other dry, then it was the task of packing and checking out. Clearly we were a match sexually, but where did we go from here? Was I just a one night pleasure, to the world Joe was straight, and although I could handle an affair of sorts, I didn’t want to be someone’s guilty secret. It wasn’t long before I was to find out the answer.
I had been working with Joe for three years, we were friendly but not exactly friends. Work colleagues. Both working in a busy supermarket, filling shelves, unloading pallets. Just getting on with the job. He was in his late thirties, slim (some would say a little skinny) and well over six foot. From the limited conversations we had had it was clear there wasn’t a lot of common ground. He liked his football, his beer and although currently single, I knew he had a number of girlfriends because he would talk to others about them. I was the opposite. Gay, average height and build and fifteen years his senior. He was good looking, looked younger than his actual age and quite handsome in a geeky way.
The balance changed when one day, he was busy unloading a crate of tinned goods, I heard him singing to himself, nothing unusual in that. But the tune was very familiar. “That’s from Les Misérables” I said, because I knew my musicals. “Yeah,” Joe shot back. “I’ve seen it at the theatre, I love it.” Hang on, you go to the theatre? I thought to myself. “I love musicals”. Why did I not know this? I thought beer, football and women were the limits of his culture. Clearly I had unfairly labelled Joe as a cultural moron. I immediately opened up about the theatrical shows I had seen myself, and a conversation started whilst we both got about our work tasks about what we had seen, and what we wanted to see. Later in the day, as we passed each other in one of the aisles (could have been household goods) I boldly asked “Would you be up for going to the theatre sometime together, if something came along we both wanted to see?” I wondered if he would want to go out socially with me, as everyone knew I was gay. “Absolutely,” came the reply “I never turn down a trip to see a good show.” And that was that, over the space of a few hours I had gotten myself a new theatre buddy. It took a few weeks before an opportunity presented itself. I had been planning to see a big new musical in London with a female friend, and mentioned it to Joe. “When you get tickets, I’d love to come if that would be OK?” Well yes it would. I got tickets and the three of us had a day trip on the train to London (about a 100 minute journey) and we had the best day, having a meal and seeing one of the best musicals I’d seen in a while. Joe was great company, chatting away to my friend and I, making us laugh and generally brightening up our day. It was during that day I started to realise how sexy I found him. But no good going there, I thought. I am older and he is straight. But the friendship continued to blossom. We started to meet in the local pub, and he talked of taking me to a football match. I hadn’t had any interest in that particular sport but he seemed keen to educate me by taking me to see his favourite team in Manchester.
Within a couple of months we spotted a theatre show in Manchester that we both liked the sound of, but hadn’t yet seen. So we booked tickets. I said, it would be nice to stay over and have a late drink on Canal Street (heart of Manchester’s gay village). Joe said he’d had a drink there with some friends in the past, and liked it, so we set about looking for a cheap hotel room, which we easily found a short walk from Canal Street. We had talked about me being gay and coming out of a long relationship, which hadn’t been easy and Joe was sympathetic, and none judgemental and I found that a bond was forming, but I am not sure what it was. Friends yes, but I sensed something more. I told myself not to be silly. Joe was just a nice guy, not interested in me, or indeed any man. Sure enough the day of the trip arrived, and we checked into our room with the twin beds and went to see the show (which was brilliant) and headed onto Canal Street. We got back several hours later, not drunk but certainly feeling good, and stripped off to our underwear and got in bed. I didn’t see much of his body as he sat away from me on the far side of his bed, but as he pulled off his T shirt there was a football related tattoo on his back. But being tired, I switched my bedside lamp off and drifted into sleep. When I awoke the next morning, it was already 10am and I knew we had to check out by 11am. I gathered what I needed and nipped into the small bathroom and had a shower. When I came out, I decided Joe needed rousing. “Wakey wakey Joe,” I said loudly. “Its gone 10.15 and we need to be up and out soon.” A sleepy voice said, “Okay, give me a minute” Then started the stretching and yawning as he forced his body back into the land of the awake. He threw back the covers and swung his long legs to the side of the bed away from me. Then he stood up and started more stretching. This was the first time I had seen his lithe body. As he turned towards me I checked out his various tattoos – homages to his favourite television programmes mostly. He stood facing me, a light smattering of dark of hair covering his chest and descending to a trail just above the hem of his boxer shorts. And then there was the bulge from his boxers. It was not huge, but an impressive mound. I suspected he had some morning wood. “I’d better jump in the shower,” he half yawned and started to browse through his overnight bag for fresh boxers and t shirt. And without much modesty off he went. As I heard the shower spring into life, I knew he was one sexy guy.
I had asked Joe about his previous relationships, and he was a big vague about it all, just saying he had been to such a place with his then girlfriend or that he had once been engaged for a short time but it didn’t work out. Then one day as I was driving us to a local theatre to see something which turned out not to be that great, out of the blue he said “When I was young, I had a fling with another man.” It came as a bit of a shock, as I hadn’t got any vibes that he might be interested in another guy, aside from our blossoming friendship which was becoming ever more close. He went on to reveal that in his late teens, he had met an older guy and it had developed into a physical relationship. Only a handful of times but he had enjoyed it. But then he had decided he liked girls better. I found it to be a mixed message. When we were at the theatre, I questioned him more and he said that whilst he generally preferred girls if the right man came along, he wouldn’t be adverse to another same sex situation. So my instinct was right, there was something more to our friendship or was I just perceiving it that way? Was he directing the comments to me or just generally.
The situation was playing on my mind. By now I knew I was falling for him, and he was doing nothing to discourage that but then again was not exactly encouraging it either. The balance changed when we decided that instead of day trips to London we would go down for four nights and catch several shows all in one swoop. So the planning started. We each booked theatre tickets, and sought out some train deals. When it came to accommodation, we knew London could be pricey (heck, the theatre tickets had cost as much as a holiday to Spain) so we looked online for bargains. The chain hotels were not particularly cheap. I said I had stopped at apartments just around from Euston in the past, they were studios with a kitchenette, bathroom and a bed. I said they would have been perfect but they do not do twins beds. Joe immediately said “If the price is right, it doesn’t bother me sharing a bed with you, we’re both adults.” Yes we certainly were. I showed him the website of the property and he liked the look of the studios which were modern and clean, so he said “Lets book it!” And that’s what we did. For the first time Joe and I would be climbing into bed together. One half of my brain said, this must be it, the next step, but the other half pulled me up and was keen to remind me, I might just be taking 2 and 2 and making 6. So I was cautious as the weeks passed, we continued our friendship at work and in the pub. and the date finally arrived for the London trip.
The week in London was just brilliant, we took in five shows (four evening and an afternoon matinee) plus a couple of tourist attractions, but in the day we were content just to wander the streets, trying bars and chatting about the metropolis that is London. The nights were not awkward, we stripped down to our boxers, got under the sheets and chatted away about what we had seen, and the agenda for the following day until we both drifted off to sleep. On the third day, Joe was unusually up before me, went out to have a cigarette (which you had to do, as the studios were non-smoking) and then went to the shower. I finally got up and wandered over to the kitchenette, passing the bathroom but he had left the door slightly ajar and I could see him towelling himself off. The bulge in his boxers turned out to be a lovely uncut cock, with a nice bush of pubes at the top, I lingered only for a handful of seconds but then got out of the way in case he saw me perving. But it was enough to know I wanted a taste of his length, which was average but very inviting.
The final night we were sad because it had been such a lovely and enjoyable trip. We had seen some of the best theatre and ended the trip with ABBA Voyage, we were on such a high after it. The joy of the music had summed up the trip. We had a couple of drinks and headed to bed for the final time in London. Both giddy with our experiences. As usual the light was switched off but this time, I instinctively felt he wanted me to make a move. As we talked in the darkness I moved over to his side of the bed, closer than I had been up to now. He did nothing to discourage it. I told him I was sad it was all over, and would miss our larking about and the happiness the shows gave me. I felt him shuffle and all of a sudden his arm came over and pulled me in even closer to him. He turned towards me, and our lips met. “I have wanted to do this for months,” he whispered as his tongue went into my mouth. We started full on kissing, getting more animated as it went on. My hand reached under the covers and onto his boxers, like me there was no doubt he was hard. I began to very gently rub his cock through the boxers, he stopped kissing and told me “Its a long time since I have done anything with a man, so please be gentle as I am very nervous.” He had told me a long time before he suffered from anxiety and clearly sexual situations like this were a trigger. “Trust me” was my reply. I pushed back the duvet and started kissing his arms and chest, using my tongue for extra pleasure. The tiny little breaths and moans giving away the fact that Joe was clearly enjoying it. When I got to his boxers, I kissed his dick through them. “Is it OK if I take these off?” I asked him. “I guess so” came the answer. So in the darkness, but with the street lamps bleeding through the curtains, I pulled down his boxers, slid them off him entirely and started licking his hard dick. Sliding slowly up and down the shaft, I pulled back his long foreskin and took the head in my mouth. I could taste the pre-cum which started to ooze out. With his moans getting louder, I worked on his length giving him a full on sensual blow job. It went on and on. “Fuck yeah, that’s amazing” he breathed, as I worked his cock. After some time, with his breathing getting faster, he pushed my head away, “I’m cumming” and in that instant squirts of stringy cum shot to just above his pubes. “You’re amazing” he said when he shot the final spurt and fumbled with his foreskin to make sure the last drop had been given. I reached to where I had placed his boxers and wiped away his cum. “My turn now”. Joe sat up and without me saying anything, pushed me back on the bed lying down as he had been, and quickly pulled off my own boxers which housed by wet dick, covered in pre-cum. “I have only ever sucked dick once before,” he told me, “So I might not be any good.” Well he was good, pretty much doing exactly as I had done to him. “I’m getting near” I told him breathlessly after a couple of minutes, “Cum over my chest” he commanded. Laying down for me, as I started to wank, bringing myself to a sticky climax, I covered his chest hair with warm white cum. Wiping it away with the boxers, I lay down next to him and once again his arm came around me, pulling me closer. “That was fantastic”. I asked him when he last had sex. “About 18 months ago, with my ex-girlfriend. She was nowhere near as good as you at a blow job though” he laughed. We kissed a little more, pulled the duvet back over us and finally drifted into very happy sleep.
I wondered if the next morning was going to be awkward. We had been giddy with ABBA and alcohol the night before. When I felt him stirring next to me, I sat up and said as cheerfully as I could muster “Morning!” “Morning “ came a much more sleepy reply. We were both naked still, and I told Joe we need to be out of here by 10am (earlier than the hotel had been some months before) “I’ll jump in the shower.” So without bothering to cover my nakedness, walked over to the bathroom and got in the shower cubicle. I had only been in there a couple of minutes, when through the haze of water I saw the door open and in walked Joe, also still naked, and got straight into the shower cubicle with me. “Might as well save water where we can” he said, with a cheeky grin. It was a tight squeeze, as the shower area was small. Both of us went from semi to hard, we soaped each other all over and kissed as we did do. Gently wanking each other, but not cumming. We helped towel each other dry, then it was the task of packing and checking out. Clearly we were a match sexually, but where did we go from here? Was I just a one night pleasure, to the world Joe was straight, and although I could handle an affair of sorts, I didn’t want to be someone’s guilty secret. It wasn’t long before I was to find out the answer.
