Home Alone

I was especially fascinated, though, by pictures showing anal sex between two men, especially when the guy being fucked remained fully erect while being penetrated, and was surprised at how beautiful some of the photos appeared, even though they were explicitly pornographic.

That first night, my cock was given one of the best workouts it had had in months!

A few weeks later, I came across a usergroup of other men, some of whom seemed to regard themselves as being straight like me, who enjoyed pictures of naked guys and spent a few evenings chatting online with them and exchanging photos. To my surprise, one of the members of the group turned out to live locally and I agreed to meet him on one of Melissa's evenings out.

He was called Edward and he was rather older than me, probably heading rapidly towards forty although he claimed to be in his early thirties.

We met in a park near to where I live – neither of us felt confident enough to give out his address or even a phone number – and chatted about why married men, as we both were, might find other guys' naked bodies so attractive. Edward didn't have issues with it and didn't see his interest in males as threatening either his marriage or his image of himself as being heterosexual. He saw it simply as being something he now felt because he hadn't experimented with other boys when he'd been in his teens and so regarded it as a natural, though secret, addition to complement his marital sex life.

I liked his reasoning and admired the way he was so at ease with himself. I'd been feeling a little awkward about going behind my wife's back to look at gay pictures and sex, but Edward's relaxed manner and apparent comfort with having a dual sexuality seemed to rub off on me.

As we talked, it became clear that neither of us had any intention of having sex together, which I was pleased about because I'd worried that Edward might view our meeting as a means of setting up some kind of regular arrangement together. Edward said that he'd simply wanted to meet me because some of the questions I'd asked on the usergroup about whether it was right for a married guy to be looking at this stuff reminded him of the feelings he'd had about five years earlier and so had wanted to meet with me to talk things through.

I was appreciative of his kindness and told him I'd found his opinions very helpful.

As we were parting and it was getting dark, Edward gestured over at a small brick building a few hundreds yards from us in the corner of the park.

He said, smiling, "Of course, if you want to see the real thing, you could always visit the toilets over there..."

"Toilets?"

He nodded. "There's always stuff going on. Especially at this time of night."

"Are they safe?"

He shrugged. "As safe as these things can be, I suppose. Occasionally, the police put warning notices up, but I've never heard of any trouble."

I stared over at the building, intrigued. I hadn't realised such a place was right on my doorstep.

As I watched, a guy wearing motorcycling gear came out from the toilets and walked over to his bike which he'd parked on the roadside. He got on it, put on his helmet, revved it up and drove off.

Needless to say, my next few 'evenings alone' saw me going out for short walks to the local park!

I realised though, as quickly as on the way back from my meeting with Edward, that, as a supposedly upstanding GP, I couldn't afford to take any risks that might land me in difficulties. I could foresee newspaper headlines like "GP caught examining builder in public toilet" and the malicious merriment that my arrest would muster in the local, and possibly national, media.

So I decided that I would treat the toilets like I had the internet and simply enjoy watching men having sex together without getting involved in anything myself. After all, a guy couldn't be arrested for just happening to notice other guys having sex (over the top of a cubicle partition while standing on the toilet bowl), could he?

Unfortunately, things didn't turn out as I'd imagined they would.

First of all, I'd underestimated the amount of interest I'd get from attractive-looking guys in the toilets. As a tall(ish) blond guy in his late twenties, I could hardly step into the building without getting guys gesturing for me to follow them into a cubicle or whispering to me to find out what kind of stuff I liked doing.

And the second problem was that I'd vastly overestimated my own ability to control the demands of my cock.

On my first couple of visits to the toilets, I managed to resist getting involved with any of the stuff going on in there. I'd just peer through a hole in the cubicle wall or, when I was sure it was safe to do so, over the partition, and enjoy watching guys doing things together that I'd developed a taste for on the internet. Guys would invite me in with them, either to pair up or for a threesome, but I'd manage to politely decline.

After half an hour or so of furtive voyeurism, I'd sneak back home with the images I'd seen of men cramped together in the cubicles, trousers around their ankles, and enjoy a prolonged wank on me and my wife's double bed.

On my third or fourth visit, though, the urge to have a little fun myself became too strong.

A young guy was wanking in the cubicle next to mine, and when I looked over the top of the partition at him, he'd whispered up at me, "Let me suck your cock."

He looked about eighteen and had quite bad acne; I guessed that he probably attended the local college. He was tall and thin and was wearing a pair of small specs. His cock looked about five inches long and the shaft of it was quite thin.

I liked the idea of being sucked by a guy ten years younger than me and the fact that my cock was so much bigger than his. He looked far too young and his offer seemed far too genuine for him to be a cop, so I agreed to let him into my cubicle.

He sucked my cock with confidence and expertise: he was obviously well-practiced in the art, presumably from a wealth of previous visits to the same or similar toilets. He wanked my foreskin with his lips while he used his tongue to tickle the sensitive underside of my oozing bell-end.

I unbuttoned my trousers and yanked them down a little to give him better access, and he began caressing my balls with his delicate fingers. Then he pushed my briefs down further to rub a finger along the hairy ridge underneath my balls before moving further to draw circles around my arsehole.

I was loving it! Melissa wouldn't even dream of doing anything like this to me!

He withdrew from me abruptly and stared up at my face for a few seconds.

Before I could say, "Jesus, mate, you really need a course of antibiotics for that skin," he roughly grabbed my hips to turn me around and then plunged his face into my backside.

I felt his tongue teasing my arsehole, wetting it and licking around it, and I began wanking my cock – which felt so large and hard that it was aching – with short, frantic strokes.