The Perfect Husband

I wanted Jack's cock the moment I saw it. There wasn't a chance in the
world I could have it, but that didn't stop me form working on the problem.

My obsession started in the most innocent way. I was visiting Jack and his
wife out on the deck of their second floor here in San Francisco. Jack and
Alice lived next door me. Since they'd moved in a couple of months before,
we'd become vaguely friendly. I'd call hello from my deck, and
occasionally Jack would borrow pliers or a Crescent wrench. On this
particular Sunday morning,they'd invited me over for coffee and sweetrolls.

They're a gorgeous couple. Alice is in her middle 20s, quiet and pretty,
pleasant, graceful when she moves. And Jack--about 30, around my age--is
my idea of a knockout: wavy blond hair; a tanned, craggy, handsome face;
big brown eyes; and a smile that can melt underwear. Mine, at least.

As the three of us chatted, lolling in the patio chairs, I couldn't help
throwing a few extra, extremely discreet looks at Jack. His T-shirt showed
off his solid-looking, well-proportioned upper body. Otherwise he wore
nothing except for a pair of gray gym shorts, faded, limp, and rather
ragged around the edges.

At one point, when my eyes happened to be turned his way, Jack shifted in
his chair, moving his legs a little farther apart. Suddenly I could see one
dark-pink ball, good-sized and well haired. Sleeping above it, a hefty
curve of cock was clearly visible.

My mouth watered; my tongue swelled.

Jack was clearly unaware of this display. He moved several more times, so
the family jewels kept disappearing inside his trunks, then returning to
view a little later. Once, briefly, I could see almost everything he had,
an impressive collection. The cock head was large, cut, smooth and
dark-reddish, the perfect topping-off for such a pale, sturdy, thick shaft.
Both his balls were impressive in size, and their roundness made my tongue
ache with desire.

Jack sat up in the chair, and the gray cotton "cave" closed completely,
hiding the treasures hanging inside.

Naturally, I began plotting ways to get to know Jack better. At least I had
a good start: My being gay didn't bother Jack or his wife at all. We live
in a neighborhood that isn't exactly all gay but isn't so terribly straight
either. And Jack, Alice, and I all found the same things funny. Fine; as I
said, a good start; but in my heart I knew I hadn't a chance. Some men kind
of radiate their sexuality, and Jack was one of those. He might as well
have had HETERO printed across his forehead; it was that obvious.

I knew better than to beat my gay head against a straight stone wall.
Still, a week later I was sitting with Jack on my deck. Alice had to fly
back East suddenly to be with her mother, who was facing a serious
operation. This meant that Jack had been alone most of the week. On Sunday
I just happened to be making my superdeluxe French toast, which I never
bother with unless I'm having company, when I saw Jack through his kitchen
windows. I went out on the deck, waved, and oh, so casually asked if he
wanted breakfast.

He accepted eagerly and vaulted over the deck railing. Jack admitted he
isn't much of a cook; that's his wife's forte.

As we ate, I asked how Alice was.

"Her mother's having complications. Alice may be gone another week or so; I
just don't know at this point."

This time Jack wore a black T-shirt, jeans (with underwear, alas; he showed
only the faintest, most general bulge in his crotch), and a pair of Mexican
sandals. After breakfast, when he stretched out casually, contented and
sipping coffee, he looked tall, dark, and wonderful to me.

We talked about any number of things as we sprawled in the sun and finished
off the pot of coffee. Then, out of the blue, Jack said, "Is there any way
that two guys both at once can give a man a blowjob?"

I was dumbfounded, but doing my best to sound relaxed, I managed: "If they
share, yeah."

"No. I mean, is there any kind of special thrill or technique, like, that
can only be done by two mouths at once?"

"Oh. Well, I don't know of any....What brought this up?"

"The two guys upstairs. Yesterday they kind of hit on me. Guess they think
I'm horny or something."

I knew the guys Jack was talking about, but I'd never known they were such
clumsy operators.

I said, "My guess is that they wanted to take turns"

"Oh."

"I guess they came on pretty strong."

"Sure did. Felt like I was being sold insurance by two salesmen at once."

"Let's see, Jack. Did they say that men are much better cocksuckers than
women, that females do it only to oblige but that men who do it love what
they're doing?"

"Yeah."

"Did they promise they'd keep their hands off the rest of you, no lovey-
dovey stuff, just a plain blowjob?"

"Right."

"And they promised they'd never tell a soul."

Jack broke into a smile. "Were you listening through the walls or
something?"

I shook my head. "Those are all standard lines. I guess those guys figured
you'd be wanting some action after a week or so alone."

"Well, in a way they're right. Alice and I have been married less than a
year. We make it almost every night. While she's away, I've been renting a
porno tape every day after work. I watch it and do what comes naturally.
Kind of cold, but it keeps me out of singles bars and away from the
secretaries at work.... I mean, I'm no saint, but Alice and I do have a
wonderful relationship. Sure, maybe someday the glow will be off and I
might mess around on the side, have a girlfriend or like that. But right
now I'm a happy man."

I was astounded: a faithful husband in San Francisco who wanted to stay
faithful. So beautiful, so classy, so rare. I gazed at Jack with open
admiration.

"I was kind of bothered by the way those two guys came on," he said,
"almost assuming I'd go for their trip. No offense meant, but do you think
they think I'm gay?"

I laughed. "Of course not. The classical misunderstanding of a straight
man. See, hetero cock is, to put it frankly, hard to get. So it's highly
prized. See?"

"OK. Yeah."

I wondered what other sludge the two guys had left with Jack, so I asked,
"Just out of curiosity, did they lay any other lines on you?"

"Mmm. . .oh, yeah. They said the experience they could give me would open
up a whole new world for me."

"Bad psychology," I said. "Makes it sound like a blowjob could change a
man, make a straight go gay. Which is ridiculous and impossible. But still,
bad to even suggest. What really works, when anything does, is to tell a
straight guy that a mouth has no sex--it's just a mouth."

"That brings in the straight guys, huh?"

"That's what they tell me. Not my specialty at all. A friend who's an
expert laid it out for me. He said the straight who's self-assured about
his sexuality is the best possibility. Not threatened by indulging in the
occasional variation."

"Well, I've learned a lot this morning." Jack stood up. "About time I do a
few things. Thanks a lot for breakfast. And for being so frank. Cleared up
a lot of things I was wondering about."

After we said good-bye and he made a graceful bound over the deck railing,
I took the plates into the kitchen and began cleaning up. All the while I
thought about Jack. I knew I should be ashamed of myself for even thinking
about making a move on him. He was an awfully nice human being, not only
handsome and hot. He was actually more curious than threatened by those two
uncool queens upstairs. And he wanted to stay a faithful husband. I could
only admire Jack and give up on him.

Or try to: It was good I had a lot to do that day and a dinner party to
attend in the evening, because my imagination seized every idle moment to
charge into overdrive, making what I couldn't have into the most wonderful
and irresistible of all marvelous things. As somebody once wrote, "The
human mind is not a dignified organ."

After the dinner party, as I was walking back to my building, up the
sidewalk from the other direction came Jack. Under the streetlight he
looked all dressed up: blue blazer, reddish tie, pale blue shirt, gray
slacks, and shiny black shoes. All spiffed out, so cute, so manly, so hot
and maybe a little down?

"Hey, Jack."

"Hi."

"Join me in a nightcap?" I asked.

"Sure. Thanks."

Upstairs in my place, I turned on the two dimmest lights in the living
room, asked Jack what he drank, mixed two scotch and waters in the kitchen,
and returned to the living room. Jack was sitting on the couch. I gave him
his scotch and took a seat in the chair on the other side of the coffee
table.

We toasted mildly and drank a swallow! Then Jack--rather abruptly, I
thought--said, "I was a real jerk tonight." He gestured at his torso. "Got
dressed up and went out to, well, a cocktail lounge, one of those body
bars, right? And I lasted two slow, watery drinks. I'd kind of forgotten
all the games you have to play, all the bullshit back and forth."

He raised his glass, took a sip, and added, "Wish I hadn't gone at all.
Feel like I've sinned, and all I did was have two drinks .... Well, one
good thing: Sure made me glad I'm married."

"Gay or straight, we're all alike in that: You get horny, you let the dick
do all the thinking, and later you maybe feel a little bit foolish" I
shrugged. "It happens."

"I like your perspective. It helps to talk. I feel better already.... And
I've been thinking all day about something you said this morning .... that
a mouth has no sex."

Total silence except for the antique clock on my mantel, ticking away.

Finally Jack went on: "What I can't understand is what the doer gets out of
the act."

"That's because you're straight. If you did understand, you'd be gay."

Jack smiled. "I like your frankness."

"Just out of curiosity" I said, "are you maybe coming on to me?"

"Uh, yeah. I am."

"I like your frankness," I said, then took a big swallow of my scotch. I
let the fumes go snarling through my nostrils, as a little waker-upper:
From now on, I didn't want to miss a thing. I looked into Jack's eyes,
brown and deep, with a lovely glossiness probably due to scotch. He sat
there, silent and serious.

"You want it here and now?" I asked.

Jack nodded.

I could hardly believe my dream was coming true, but I knew better than to
waste time. I moved the coffee table out of the way and knelt down on the
rug in front of Jack.

"You'll have to open your legs a little," I prompted.

He did, and I moved myself in between them and saw that his movement had
tightened the cloth on his thighs and there was quite a bulge on each side
of his fly--not well-defined but definitely present.

Now, I knew, came the most delicate part. Once I got my mouth on his cock,
there'd be no problem. However, getting from here to there, that was going
to be tricky: He could panic and run at any time.

"Want to take your tie off," I asked, "and maybe your shoes?"

Jack loosened his tie, undid the top shirt button, and slid his feet out of
his Italian loafers.

"OK," I said, slow and soft, "just lie back on the pillows and let me take
care of everything."

Jack leaned back, but not completely. His body looked stiff. Of course he'd
be nervous and tense doing this for the first time, I told myself.

Firmly but not too quickly, I took hold of his belt buckle and the top
front of his slacks with my left hand; with my right, I pulled down his
zipper. His slacks opened into a beautiful oval right in front of my eyes,
with the two narrow, gray rows of zipper making a curving frame around the
fly opening of his white boxer shorts. I could see the curve of a
good-sized cock in their contours, as well as a tuft of brown hair curling
out through the opening. And my nose was treated to a faint but exciting
scent of cloth and crotch.

Now I faced the moment of truth, when I would have to handle Jack's cock.
If he could keep cool with such intimacy, not suddenly change his mind
about all this, then the rest would be easy--and fun.

I reached a finger into his undershorts and fished out his cock. It was a
beaut: head a deep red, no foreskin, shaft thick and juicy-looking and
white. I desperately wanted to plunge my mouth on the soft, beautiful
thing, but I knew I had to restrain myself to keep from scaring Jack. I
moved my face forward and licked the head of his cock with gentle firmness.
At the same time I reveled in Jack's smell, the mix of odors that come from
a clean man in clean clothes, of wool and cotton and crotch and balls.

The longer I licked, the more worried I became. Then, suddenly, the cock
went from two-thirds soft to a rod of warm steel that filled my mouth. I
kept my tongue busy on his cock head and slid my lips down over its thick
edge and onto his shaft.

Jack made a sound, a little sighing groan of pleasure. I knew I had nothing
more to worry about. This was confirmed a moment later, when he leaned back
on the pillows. His thighs, which had been pressing against my face,
softened in his slacks, and he opened his legs wider, apparently no longer
feeling any need to protect himself.

My lips caressed every one of the many inches of Jack's cock. I worked my
way downward slowly and thoroughly, being careful with my teeth, giving him
a real spit-and-polish job. By the time my mouth and nose lay buried in
warm clothing and fragrant pubic hair, Jack was quietly groaning and
sighing above me.

Discreetly I opened my pants and freed my painfully half-stiff cock, which
popped up straight in a few seconds. I began working my meat, hard, with an
expert hand.

Tears came to my eyes with the effort when I took Jack's cock head down my
throat, but I didn't care. With all my mouth, tongue, lips, throat, I
pleasured his cock, sometimes gently and smoothly, at other times swiftly
and a little roughly.

As I worked on his meat harder and harder, suddenly Jack's legs closed on
me, his body stiffened, and I backed off his cock at once.

I wanted this to last. We had to take a little break, in some way that
looked natural.

"Your clothes?" I said, questioningly.

He got the hint at once: Jack loosened his belt, popped the snaps on his
boxer shorts, then humped up his hips and slid his pants and underwear off
his hard little ass and down his legs. I pulled his clothes off his feet
and laid them right next to him on the couch.

Jack sat back and relaxed. I liked the way he tucked his shirttails out of
the way in front, considerately giving me a view of his slim, hard
midsection, small navel, and the top of the triangle of blond-brown pubic
hair. He was still completely stiff, obviously eager for more, and I knew
we had to cool it for a while longer. I handed Jack his drink and took
mine.

We drank a few swallows. All the while I gazed at Jack's balls, a couple of
big beauties, clutched up tight in the lightly haired scrotal sac, just
fitting in the space between two walls of thigh. Directly below his cock
bulged a huge wad of contracted scrotal flesh, looking almost like a third
ball. No wonder his balls hung out of his gym shorts that day. I was sure
that when they were relaxed they swung low.

Jack's cock had softened, thickening a little, and it was not pointing
directly at the ceiling anymore. I motioned him to move forward on the
couch, which he did. I spread his thighs a little; then I licked his right
nut, worked my way across the scrotal bulge, and tongued his left one. For
the first time I clearly smelled and tasted Jack's own special odor: a
warm, rich man smell that was faintly woodsy, and a taste of salt and spice
and male body.

I gave his balls a lot of attention. Then, with the tip of my tongue, I
licked a line right up the center seam of his scrotum, over the sensitive
bulge, and up his stiff, hot inches of cock. I ended in the slit in the big
meaty crown. Suddenly I sucked his cock head into my mouth. I moved quickly
up and down on his stiff meat, taking all I could down my throat, then
quickly pulling back till his head lay between my two firmly pressuring
lips. And back down again, fast as I could, my tongue working all the time.

Two hands pressed the back of my head down onto the cock. The left hand was
on the bottom: I could feel a hard bump of wedding ring against my skull.

Together we fell into a good back-and-forth face-fucking rhythm. The faster
I sucked, the faster I jerked off my cock.

All at once Jack froze, clamping me between his two strong thighs and
pressing my head down on his cock as far as it could possibly go. I felt it
deep within, throbbing, penetrating, and then came a sudden spread of
sunshine warmth.

As Jack groaned and thrashed, he let go of my head. I backed up, took a
deep, much-needed breath, then returned to suck and lick at his blazing
hot, juice-shooting cock. I milked every drop out of it as Jack twisted and
thrashed, and with a madly moving hand, I pounded every bit of come out of
my cock.

Then I concentrated fully on Jack. I worked to take him down slow, once he
finished shooting, just lightly licking his cock and balls as they slowly
relaxed into the handsome pieces of sex flesh I'd spied a week before in
his gym shorts.

When I finally backed off, wiped my mouth, and looked up at Jack, I saw a
face that was smiling and contented.

"Whew!" he said. "I had no idea. Thanks, man. Thanks a lot. Just exactly
what I needed."

"Me too," I said. As unobtrusively as possible I shoved my dick into my
pants and zipped up, then got to my feet. So did Jack.

"Any time," I said.

Putting on his clothes, Jack said, "Great. But...you know, just this once."

"Sure," I said, a lot more agreeably than I felt.

We said good night at my kitchen door. I watched as he lightly boosted
himself over the railing and onto his deck.

I went to bed pretty happy but wishing, of course, that Jack had expressed
more interest in future engagements. Yet I knew I was lucky to get as much
as I'd gotten. It had been a special collection of circumstances, and all
would change very soon, when Alice came back. I told myself I was very
lucky indeed.

Four wifeless days later Jack came to my kitchen door fairly late at night,
saying he was so hot, he couldn't sleep and that if I didn't mind .... He
had a bottle of excellent scotch cradled in one arm. A little gift, quite
needless but very acceptable.

His wife returned a day or two after that. A week later Jack came by, again
late at night. "I saw your light on in the kitchen, and I thought that
maybe, if you were in the mood. . . "

"Come in," I said.

All this happened a few years ago. Jack and Alice have a son, and another
child is on the way. Every two to three weeks since our first night, Jack
has been coming over for little visits--often quite late, and that's when
he leaps over the deck railing, bare-ass naked, and I let him in my kitchen
door.

One night, after the first few months of more-or-less regular sessions,
Jack said, "You were right, and so were the two guys upstairs."

"Right? About what?"

"That men are better at it than women. And that a mouth has no sex. You
know, I don't feel any guilt at all. It's great."

Usually Jack brings over a porn flick to watch while I take my sweet time
sucking him off. The tapes always star the same large-breasted, incredibly
pink female. I can't see the action very well, but I don't mind at all. My
taste in porn is quite different.

Jack comes around for my services just often enough, so neither of us
becomes bored by repetition or frustrated by lack of action. He does get
awfully excited, even a bit brutal, when he shoots his wad, but I don't
mind that at all; rather the contrary. And he's considerate, always keeping
the scotch well supplied, casually dropping a gift on me now and then, and
sometimes stock-market tips, all of which have proved to be good ones. And
he's always deliciously clean and good-smelling.

I'm so lucky. He's a wonderful lay, a gentleman, and a good provider. I
couldn't ask for more. Jack is a perfect husband.