No Longer Bi-Curious

First, a little background. I was forty-five, married for twenty years, and increasingly frustrated from a sexual point of view. My great-looking wife progressively throttled back sex to the point it was mainly a chore on our anniversary, birthdays or after the rare occasion she?d had a couple drinks.I finally gave up just jerking off in the shower and visited an adult bookstore with an arcade. The theater area was a U shape, with three rooms in the front and three around the back. I developed a routine of visiting around 10 am, always using one of the front booths. I?d put on a hetero film and within minutes, blow my load and leave.One Friday I was horny as hell, but couldn?t get to the ABS until around five. There were at least a half dozen cars in the lot. I thought about driving on, but I already had a wet spot of precum on my khakis and a case of blue balls. I went in, bought my tokens, and headed back into the darkness. Because the front three taksim escort booths were occupied, I ventured to the back. The two outside booths were in use, but the center one was open. I slipped in, fed the machine, vaguely noticed the adjacent glory holes, and pulled out my cock. Up popped a video of a sixty-nine with two very attractive CDs. I was mesmerized until the spell was broken by a shadow in the adjacent GH to my right. Soon two fingers appeared, sliding in and out. I can?t tell you what came over me; but without hesitation, I stuck my junk and balls deep through the orifice. A warm mouth surrounded my cock head and within seconds, I blew rope after rope from my previously virgin meat. My knees were buckling as I pulled out of the talented mouth. Quietly my servicer whispered a thank you, stating he?d be there the next Friday at five.As I drove home, I couldn?t believe I?d let another guy suck my cock. Was I gay? No, beşiktaş escort I told myself. This was no different than sticking my dick into any vegetable or fruit I could get my hands on as a collegian. No, I wasn?t gay. Well, you all know where I was the next Friday at five. This weekly routine continued for thirteen months, almost up to the present.Present day: 3 pm and I?m at a downtown Chicago hotel lobby bar. I?d just finished a stressful certification exam and was unwinding over a bottle of Bud. As I was finishing, the bartender brought me another bottle and pointed to the only other patron: a guy maybe forty-five, clean-cut and with a smile on his face. As I nodded a thank you, he motioned me to join him around the corner from where I was sitting. I thought what the heck, I could use some conversation. As I moved to the adjacent stool, he rotated 90 degrees in my direction, putting his left knee between mine; all well and good, no foul. As we talked, he?d lean forward and frequently put his left hand on my right thigh, finally just leaving it there. Again, no foul. I guess I was starting to get buzzed from the second beer. Much of the conversation dealt with my stress level and my tightening shoulder and neck musculature.At around 4:30, he asked if I?d join him for dinner later, his treat. I explained that I had planned on asking the concierge to arrange a massage in my room and I was just in the bar to loosen up. He laughed and said, ?Why blow the money?? He suggested he was an amateur masseuse and always looking for a Guinea pig. He asked for the tab, settled up and motioned toward the elevator. Was I game?His room was a suite, upper floor, facing the lake. As I stood in the window facing the setting sun, he eased up behind me and began kneading my tight traps. I could feel his body against mine and particularly his erection pressing against my rear. He leaned forward even more and told me to slip off my clothes while he?d turn back the covers. He suggested I lay across the bottom of the bed and get comfortable as he used the bathroom.