The Novelist

I write novels in reality but, bills have to be paid so I am forced to do bar shifts at the local Weatherspoons. The dross that stumbles through the door barely warrants a second look but this one guy, Martin was somehow different. He was definitely straight. His string of girlfriends and an ex wife were testament to his heterosexuality. That said, he was less stand offish than the average punter and would often stand and talk to me when the bar was quiet.

One day I was doing the late shift, clocking off after 11pm. As I left the bar he was lurking outside, ostensibly having a last fag before he set off home. I stopped and chatted and suddenly had this idea that he could maybe help me with a storyline I was stuck on in my latest attempt at publishable fiction.

‘Do you want a coffee?’ I asked, fully expecting him to mumble an excuse that he had to get home. But he said yes and we ambled companionably back to my flat, a convenient 10 minutes away.

He sat down and made himself comfortable on the settee, man-spreading his legs wide and revealing a quite well packed crotch.

‘Rather than coffee, do you have a beer?’ His request wasn’t completely unexpected. He was known in the pub to drink til he fell over on occasion. I found a can in the fridge but went with the original coffee for myself.

‘So’ he said ‘what’s the book about?’

‘I am still developing the storyline but one of the characters is a straight guy who is surrounded by gay guys and he starts to think his life would be so much easier if he were gay as well. He has had a fumble but it didn’t work. The problem is that I have no experience of not being gay or of wanting to be straight so can’t empathise.’

He moved around and made himself even more comfortable. I hoped he wasn’t falling asleep.

‘Have you ever had a gay experience?’ I hoped to lead him along a path of revelation. It may give me some insight.

‘Well, not really’ he said ‘except one time just after I felt school.’

‘Go on,’ I said

‘I started to do some work, casual, labouring. At the end of my first week I got paid and went out with a couple of the lads for a few pints. Of course I got slaughtered. One of my mates took me back to his bedsit as they couldn’t work out where I lived. I woke up in the middle of the night to find I was naked in bed and someone was sucking my cock’

‘Ah you are one of those guys who can still get it up when drunk?’

‘Hell, yeah. Any time’ I glanced at his crotch and was entranced to see he was getting hard.

‘So what did you do?’ Knowing his propensity for violence when drunk, I expected him to lash out.

‘Erm it felt good so I pretended to be asleep and came in his mouth’ He sniggered

By now he had a full hard on which he wasn’t making any attempt to hide.

‘Was that the only time?’

‘Yeah. It has never come up since’ I could see pre-cum starting to seep through his trousers. I leant over and stroked his rock hard cock. He groaned, lay back and closed his eyes. I quickly unzipped him and slid his trousers down to his knees. His cock tried valiantly to break out of his briefs so I gave them a hand and his long, hard, thick uncut cock sprang forth dripping sex juice. His balls, trendily shaved, bounced as his cock throbbed. I pulled the foreskin back over the rim round his head and marvelled at the perfection of it.

He took another slug of his beer and pulled me closer. I couldn’t wait to get that shaft in my mouth. I dived on it and sucked it all, or as much as I could, into my eager mouth.

I wasn’t expecting anything in return so was pleasantly surprised to feel his hand slide down the back of my trousers. Using my free hand I unbuckled and loosened my chinos. His hand immediately found my hole and a finger slid in. Now it was my turn to groan.

Before I knew what was happening he had pulled down my briefs, freeing my cock. He slid another finger in and, finding me receptive, was suddenly on top of me and fucking me for all he was worth. Before I could settle into a nice rhythm his breathing got harsher and I felt him pound hard into me as his hot cum pumped deep inside me. He pulled out and lay back, his tumescent cock slowly deflating.

Well, this was not what I had expected when I offered him coffee.

‘You won’t say anything, will you?’ He was starting to regret his encounter.

‘Of course not’ Why would I?

He looked at my still hard cock. Reaching out he gently stroked the underside of the shaft. I shuddered. Then he leant over and took my hard cock in his mouth. It didn’t take long before I, too, was gushing hot cum into his mouth.

He lay on top of me for ages, his tongue playing gently rhythms up and down my flaccid cock. Occasionally he would venture further south and my balls would get some attention. He seemed fascinated by my genitalia. He slid my foreskin back just enough to run his tongue across the slit and then down inside the foreskin to the lip. I don’t recover quickly so this gentle game went no further.

Eventually he got dressed and went home. I wondered if he would still come to the pub. Maybe he worried I would out him.

I didn’t see him for three days and then suddenly he walked in, ordered his usual drink and went and sat with his mates.

Oh well, I thought, that was that.

But that night, after I had finished, he was waiting outside again.

‘Do you want to tell me some more about your book?’

‘Sure’ I said and walked slightly ahead of him til we were out of sight of the pub when he caught up with me and quickly ran his hand down over my ass. It was going to be another nice night.