I'm Not Interested in Guys, And Yet...

I'm not interested in guys. I'm totally heterosexual. And yet, there's this guy I go to every Thursday after work. Yes, my wife knows. I told her all about it, and she's fine with it. In fact, I believe she prefers it, since it takes the burden off her to perform. You see, she's become less interested in sex lately. So, a guy from work told me about Kyle. Het's a sort of massage practitioner. When George, the guy from work told me the details, I was almost kind of sickened. I was really surprised George would tell me about getting a handjob from another guy. That's just gross, or so I thought at the time. Then, it started playing on my mind. George brought it up only once. I guess seeing my reaction let him know not to discuss such things with me again. Oh, I'm sure I was polite, but no doubt I was stand-offish, too when George told me that. But, the thought of it kept haunting me. It slowly mutated. I cringed in weirdness, almost horror when I pictured George, naked on some massage table, getting a handjob. Yucky! Then, I imagined myself on the massage table. I didn't try to imagine it. In fact, I tried not to. I started to wonder what this Kyle guy looked like. According to George, he was young, putting himself through college with these handjobs. I started to rationalize. Was it so 'gay' after all? My wife wasn't putting out so much any more. Didn't I deserve something more? I'd never cheat on her, of course. But, was it cheating? It wouldn't be if she knew about it, and was on board with it. All too soon, the though evolved so severely that I was starting to crave a handjob from this Kyle guy. I was plotting ways to make it happen. Not that I'd ever do such a thing, of course. As Christmas approached, Jaylene, my wife, asked what I wanted. I told her I didn't want a physical present. I wanted sex. She acted shocked, telling me a guy has to be 'more romantic.' One doesn't just come out and ask for such things. I knew from experience, 'more romantic' wasn't it. I had been plenty romantic. But just how romantic can you be with two children in the house? I knew she had shifted. It was probably a menopause thing. I was feeling angry about the loss. Perhaps I shouldn't have, but suddenly I just blurted it out, "If I can't have sex with you, I'm going to get it elsewhere." She got mad. She cried. Then she got mad again, and cried again. She had assumed I meant that I was planning to go to a woman for intercourse. She wasn't entirely sure I hadn't already. That left no choice. As embarrassing as the thought was, I had to tell her about Kyle. I thought she'd clobber me. I mean literally. She's never been violent, but I could imagine her getting so upset that she'd hit me over the head. I could understand her disappointment. To find out after all these years that her husband is gay. Or at least had gay tendencies, to put it in proper perspective. Her reaction wasn't at all what I expected. She settled down immediately. Then she smiled. She found it amusing. I probably turned red in the face. Then, suddenly, she said, "Yes, do it." "Do it?" "Go to Kyle. See what it's like. It isn't going to hurt you any. And, I believe it will preserve our marriage. I feel your frustration, and wish I could do something about it, but my hormones are all wrong. I can't stand the idea of sex lately.     "But one thing: You've gotta tell me all about it once it happens." I happily agreed. This was a big hurdle I had just overcome. The remaining hurdle was bigger. I had to overcome my own objections. Or was it fear? Or proper caution? Or something else? Then it turned out there was yet another hurdle. George had told me about Kyle that one time those several weeks ago. But I didn't know anything about how to contact him. I'd have to ask George. It took me a week to bring it up. I mean, how do you ask your buddy about getting a handjob, from another man. I know, George had brought it up to me first. It should have been easy for me to walk up to him and just say, "So, how do I get in touch with this Kyle guy?" Finally, that's exactly what I did. I just walked up, and trying not to hesitate or seem too weird, I asked. George laughed good-naturedly. "I thought you'd be asking one of these days." He gave me Kyle's number. Another week went by before I could bring myself to phone Kyle. During that week, there was a major breakthrough at home. I had never masturbated in front of Jaylene. I found the whole idea terribly embarrassing. But one night, thinking about this whole business with getting a handjob from a guy, I was surprisingly horny. I made a half-hearted attempt to get Jay interested in sex, but she wasn't having it. So, right there in bed, next to her under the covers, I just started masturbating. "What are you doing?" she asked. I just told her. "I'm masturbating." "Oh, let me see," she said with a sparkle in her eye. I had not expected quite that. I had expected a lecture on how masturbating is bad or something. She talked me into removing the blanket and sheet so she could actually see me masturbate. My penis had gone soft, and I found it quite troubling to let her see me like that. Embarrassing. But she insisted, and I knew it was a glass ceiling I had to break through. So I let her see my soft willie. I worked it for quite a while, and finally I started getting hard. Shortly after that, under her attentive eye, I squirted cum on my belly. She sort of cheered. I was surprised, but delighted to have taken our relationship to a whole new level. I instinctively knew this was big. Now, I'd be able to jerk off in our bed any time I wanted, and not have to sneak a quick wank in the shower or anything like that. Anyway, I finally called Kyle. He sounded pleasant enough. I booked Thursday at 5:30 pm. During that workday, I had trouble concentrating, and the day dragged on and on. Finally 5pm came. I put the tools away, cleaned up my bench, and drove over to his place. I arrived at 5:20. I felt I couldn't go in yet, so I spent ten minutes in my car looking at junk on my cell phone. At 5:30 I knocked on the office door in the little strip mall, not knowing what to expect. It turns out I needn't have knocked. The door opened into an outer office and waiting room. Sitting behind a desk was a knockout gorgeous woman with long brunette hair. She asked my name, and confirmed my appointment, indicating a seat. I sat down and started nervously fiddling with my phone. Oh, yes, I was ridiculously nervous. Only a few seconds later, she indicated a door, and said, "You can go on back." I walked into a beautiful room. It was dimly lit, but not dark, and reminded me of an aquarium. There were murals on all the walls of aquatic scenes. There was a vague aroma of something nice. Perfume? Incense? Aftershave? I couldn't quite tell. Standing in the corner was a pretty good looking youngster. He was bearded as is so fashionable these days, and had sparkly eyes and a brilliant smile. He came forward offering a handshake and introduced himself. We chatted for a moment. He told me that he started off as an ordinary massage practitioner. That he had taken the training as his first step in becoming an architect. That in order to put himself through school without a huge student loan at the end, he figured he'd give massages. Only thing was, there was no business. Only when he started giving handjobs did his business take off. He said 'handjobs' without the slight change in inflection. I would have had trouble just saying the word. I knew the big moment had come. His segue was simple enough. He just said, "Most guys prefer to be entirely naked for this, but you can just lower your pants if you prefer." I didn't want to seem prudish, so although the lowered pants alternative seemed better to me... In fact, running out of the room saying "Forget it" seemed like the best alternative at the moment. Instead, I opted for full nudity. Why not? Wasn't this going to be crazy enough already? As I stripped, so did Kyle. I wasn't expecting that. It felt weird. On the one hand, one feels better nude with the others around you nude also. On the other hand, here I was with a perfect stranger, a man no less, getting naked. He wasn't a bad-looking man. Tall, slim, long-haired, black-bearded. Interestingly, while I was expecting a whole mass of black hair around his dick, he was totally clear down there. No hair, like a little kid, although his cock was not kid-sized. Far from it. He had me lay on his table on which he had thrown a clean sheet. He went over to a sink and washed his hands.... More later if you want it. Let me know.