2,4,6,8 Never Too Late Ch. 01

Life's been much easier since deciding to pursue my attraction to men. I'm still attracted to women but since deciding to act on my impulses I have found myself appraising men for their sexual potential more and more. For instance, I was down in Cornwall a few weeks ago dawdling away a morning on the surfing beach at Polzeath:

I'm nearly thirty now and have looked after myself. I was a good enough footballer to trial for three pro teams and have never really stopped running or swimming, or something or other, to keep in shape since realising that I wasn't quite good enough to make it and gave up in my early twenties. I could stroll in my tight black swimmies with confidence amongst the, mainly, much younger surfing crowd. I'm not blessed with a big cock but it's reasonably thick and looks good sticking out its hard six inches on top of a nice pair of balls framed by a gingery wisp of pubic hair. I'm virtually hairless on my body in any manly sense. In fact you could believe I shaved my body if I didn't have the pale and peachy complexion that is often associated with skin like mine.

I needed to get out of the sun after spending the best part of an hour exploring the beach and I found a seating place outside in the shadows at a cafe near to the surfing school. On reflection it didn't surprise me that I should find myself there in my skimpy trunks because there were three very toned, very tanned, very taught surf dudes of indeterminate age lolling around near to the surf school and attached hire shop, one of whom had caught my eye earlier. From where I was sitting I had a great view of his nicely sculpted torso. It isn't that I had planned it consciously, being there, with this view, with me wearing not very much. But my subconscious mind had won a little battle that it may have lost to my sharply logical and usually dominant conscious one only a few short months ago.

The same logical mind had prevented me from exploring the limits of my capacity to enjoy my own body in the way I really wanted to until then, until I found myself online buying a lifelike dildo and a tube of lube. Thanks DocJohnson and your team of developers for all the fun, for all that the six inches of mulatto, suction-cupped, rubber dong had taught me about the pleasure my arse could give. A pleasure I now assumed to be the norm. I never managed to last more than a week now before I felt the urge to plug myself up with my flexible friend. I had become quite adept at this business after a few initial weeks of experimentation and some discomfort and I could rock on it for ages now feeling the ecstasy build in waves before I boffed up a big load of spunk as I clenched and writhed. Easy as that. I had become a bona-fide cock jockey.

Men had always been attracted to my body especially when I was in my late teens when I was at my most androgynous. One of my friends' friends had been quite insistent about wanting me at that time. A few years older than me he was a well-known womaniser who treated his conquests with disdain. He could afford to be like that because he was tall, broad and handsome and packed a heavy purse in his tight Levis – something I'm certain everyone was aware of because he had a habit of flaunting it. Barry Leigh - a name and a fantasy I have revisited often since. I stayed over at a party at his place one Saturday night and the following morning I woke in a small converted loft alone and slightly bleary. Needing a pee badly I went downstairs to the bathroom. The door was open but the shower was running. I went in and asked the silhouette behind the shower curtain if it was OK to pee, not wanting to upset what might have been a girl standing there in the steam.

Barry's head appeared over the top of the shower curtain and he told me to go right ahead. I pee'd the big gush of the hungover beer guzzler and Barry began recounting his argument with his girl at the time the night before. She'd disappeared in a taxi at some time early in the morning for a reason he didn't elaborate on apart from to say they hadn't agreed about sex. I didn't bother flushing the loo before putting the seat and lid down and sitting myself down. Looking back I must have wanted to stay there and catch a few glimpses of his brawn in the shower but I wasn't conscious of that at the time. We continued to chat about this and that, plans for later, so on and so forth. I mused silently about the drink-stained cheesecloth shirt that was clinging to me in the steamy atmosphere and asked if was Ok to take a shower after him.

'Yeh, sure,' he replied.

I became dimly aware of a rhythmical change in the noise of the shower – a pattern all men are familiar with. Barry's conversation tailed off as I watched. His upper right arm was brushing against the shower curtain revealing itself more clearly as it stuck to the thin wet material. I held still. My cock grew a little. He must have been aware that I was aware. Surely he'd stop having got carried away with himself frustrated by his disappearing girl, perhaps. But he didn't. Instead he turned to face the shower curtain and pressed his cock against it as he fisted himself slowly. The big bell-end pressed out showing the flare of the crown through the translucence of the curtain.

My cock was now sticking out of my boxers. I hadn't touched it but it was full and stiff. I mumbled something about making a cup tea for us both asking if there was anyone else at the house I could make one for as I left the bathroom.

'No,' he said loudly before adding ominously, ' it's just you and me.'

I made the tea willing away my erection and by time he emerged from the shower I'd taken half the heat out of my boner but only to the extent that it wasn't quite so juttingly prominent, just a half-hard chunk in my boxers.

Barry's large lump was still very apparent through the towel he'd wrapped around his midriff as he appeared at the kitchen door and reached up and leant his arms above it.

'Sorry if I disturbed you in there, you looked a bit busy so I thought I'd leave you to it.' I said, in an attempt to diffuse any embarrassment he might have felt.

'No problem,' he replied as I handed him his mug of tea carefully avoiding staring at his crotch. He smiled at me as a brushed past him on the way to the bathroom.

My cock had sprung back to life before I'd even started the shower. It was no good. My own nakedness together with the recent memory of seeing Barry stroking his big fat knob was having a serious effect. I started tugging at myself as I cupped my balls in the shower trying to avoid making the same telltale noises that had given Barry's game away. I assumed Barry had got himself off and shuffled my hand quickly over myself desperate for a similar release. I closed my eyes and imagined his cock spurting in the same shower. I came in a leg-trembling minute. As I dried off Barry came into the bathroom.

'Better?' he idly asked.

'Yes, much, I needed to freshen up,' I replied and again sat down on the loo seat and bent forward to dry my feet concentrating on the task in hand and not on the gap in the front of Barry's towel through which poked, surprisingly, his still-throbbing tumescence.

A few awkward seconds passed. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him ease off the towel. He leaned back against the wall, spread his legs slightly and began stroking himself. I couldn't avoid looking any more and turned and gulped as he drew his foreskin back over his bulbous purple glans. He had a lovely cock - meaty and thickening slightly at the base. His balls must have been twice the size of mine, in a slightly crinkled sac. I've thought about that moment many times since. The look on my face must have been telling a story because all he did was walk over, palm my face softly and stick his thumb in my mouth. I sucked it involuntarily. I reached up and grabbed his cock at the base.

'I want to fuck you,' was all that he said. But that was enough. I bolted. Mind over what matters you could call it. I stood up in a jolt releasing his cock from my hand. I left him there. All stiff and ready. Just went without a word. I got in my car and drove home. I forgot forcibly through sheer strength of will about that encounter until years later when it became a thought that sometimes occurred in the nearly awake moments of the last of sleep. More recently it was something that I conjured up as I romped with my dildo. In a newly imagined version of what might have happened it was I imploring him to fuck me.

All this and more may have been occurring to me as I watched the surfer dude plying his trade. Curly dark hair framed his beaky face. A nice big roman nose and wide bowed lips. My shades hid my eyes but there can have been no mistaking the direction of my gaze. Over the course of a coffee and a couple of cigarettes he became aware of my attention. He looked over again and again. I smiled. Eventually he couldn't ignore it any longer and strolled over.

'Are you looking for something?' he asked, slightly aggressively.

'No, I'm looking at you, you're gorgeous,' I said matter-of-factly. He was somewhere between twenty-five and thirty I now guessed to myself; six feet, or slightly under, tall. He laughed.

'Sorry man, I'm not into men but if I ever change my mind I'll be on the lookout for you.'

He turned and left. Nothing ventured nothing gained, I thought to myself. I went back to my hotel and globbed a large slick of lube onto the head of my dildo and gave myself a good seeing to whilst thinking about the surfer dude's muscular torso flexing as he drove his cock into me. Mmm. I had an appetite for cock - a fully-fledged and unabashed desire. Something would turn up. My radar may have been wonky earlier because I had been certain that the surfer dude would be available for some fun.

Just before falling asleep that night I could almost feel that he was thinking about me.