Date: Tue, 13 Dec 2016 11:47:46 +0000
From: Adam Stewart <stewad1820@gmail.com>
Subject: Gay Dad

Gay Dad
By Adam Stewart

1.

In my early school days, I couldn't understand why the other boys got
excited when they saw pictures of females. They certainly did nothing for
me since I much preferred admiring the male form. I knew I enjoyed touching
a boy's genitals whilst play fighting, but never thought anything of it.

Secondary school was different. I was relatively shy and naïve for my
age, although physically, I developed early and became aroused very easily
in the changing rooms, which was highly embarrassing. I was born in Putney
on the outskirts of London in 1948 and at that time, homosexuality was
illegal so certainly never talked about at home. I had no idea what being
gay was all about and did not recognise what my body was telling me until I
was in my early teens. By the age of thirteen, I knew I was different to
others of my age. My brother is five years older, having been conceived
whilst my father was home on leave during the war, so by my thirteenth
birthday he had girlfriends and for all I knew, had experimented with them.

During my teens, it was unheard of to be gay. The only reference I can
remember was being warned about older men in raincoats and that I should
keep away from them. My feeling of being different, was not something I
could have discussed with my parents nor my brother so I buried it deep
inside me. I also had the feeling that my brother didn't like me. Even when
I was a young child, he'd never let me play with him and once older, I was
never invited to join him and his mates. We were poles apart and still are,
but more about that later.

By the age of thirteen, I was conscious of my body. I was slim and tall so
felt conspicuous whilst with others of my age. I was also well endowed when
I compared myself with my fellow pupils in the showers and the changing
room after physical education lessons. By this time, I was frequently
bullied and called a poof by other boys so life at school was far from
pleasant. The person who got me through this period, was my very special
friend Richard. We were in the same class and we did everything together,
both at school and at home. Looking back, I'm sure he was also gay but we
never discussed it, although we enjoyed playing games which frequently
involved undressing down to our underwear. I'd invariably end up with an
erection and from what I could see, so did Richard.

I can also remember running around naked in the sun one day. It was during
the summer holiday in our early teens and we'd gone for a bike ride. We'd
found a quiet spot and removed our tops so were only in our shorts. Richard
dared me to strip off and I agreed provided he did too. He did, so we
stripped naked and ran around for several minutes before laying down in the
sun. It was a perfect day and it was the only time I saw him with a stiff
cock. As usual, mine reacted to the excitement of being naked and he held
it. His own was soon hard and I held it. I remember thinking afterwards
that I had to do that again but sadly never did.

As I grew older, my thoughts and feelings for the same sex developed, but I
could never admit to anyone that I was attracted to men. When Richard and I
were age fifteen, my world fell apart. He was involved in a road accident
and died from his injuries. I was heartbroken and couldn't imagine life
without him. I was so depressed, that I attempted suicide by overdosing on
sleeping pills. My parents had no concept of how heartbroken I was or how
depressed. I suddenly realised I'd been in love with him and I convinced
myself that he was in love with me.

As a teenager, I felt I'd be thought of as a joke so never told anyone
about my feelings. At age sixteen I had my first sexual experience. It was
during the Easter holiday and I'd gone for a bike ride. I never found
anyone to replace Richard, so spent most of my time alone. I'd gone into a
public toilet and was standing at the urinal doing my pee, when a guy stood
beside me. In those days, urinals were one long ceramic panel against which
you peed so anyone standing close enough would have their cock on full view
to their neighbour unless you covered it with a hand. Those with homosexual
tendencies would stick their prize out for all to see, and I was no
exception.

I soon realised that he was interested in my tool, so seeing we were alone,
I slowly massaged it when I'd finished my slash. He moved closer and placed
a hand around it.

"Nice cock mate."

It was the first time I'd been complimented on my manhood which boosted my
morale so I felt good. I looked at his impressive tool and he persuaded me
to touch it, which I enjoyed doing.

"Come back to my place and we can have some fun."

I was hooked by his charm and his cock. I had no doubts about going with
him and did so willingly. He lived in a small flat nearby and once inside,
he took me into the kitchen and undressed me. "Yeah, nice body. What's your
name?"

"Adrian" I replied. I never did find out his name. Once naked, my cock
became hard which pleased him. He stripped naked as I watched and told me
to go on my knees and suck his limp cock. As I did so, I wondered how old
he was. I could see he was a lot older than me, but how much, I didn't
know. Thinking back, I'd say he was in his early thirties, so double my
age.

When I'd got him nice and hard, he told me to bend over the sink. I felt
him caress my arse and it felt good. I then felt a finger slip inside me
and I realised what he intended to do. I was nervous and excited. I'd never
had sex with another guy before; all I'd ever done was massage myself.
Suddenly, I felt his cock breach me. I winced with pain as it stretched my
entrance and wondered whether his cock would rip me apart. Then, I felt his
length fill me up and gently fuck me. It was the most wonderful feeling I'd
ever had and I knew without doubt that I was gay, although in 1964 the term
`gay' was not in common use.

I left school at age sixteen with four GCE `O' levels. I could have stayed
on to study `A' levels but I'd had enough of the continual bating by my
fellow pupils about girls and being called a poof. I'd always enjoyed
arithmetic at school and was good at it; one of my `O' levels being
mathematics. I therefore decided, to join a local accountancy firm as a
trainee. I first undertook a one year part-time Foundation Certificate
course and having successfully completed that, I moved onto the Foundation
Diploma course for another year of part-time study. This was followed by
the one year part-time Advanced Diploma course and then a one year
part-time Professional Diploma in Accounting course. Despite it being four
years of hard slog, I enjoyed every minute. I made several friends at
college and no longer was I subjected to abuse or comment about my
sexuality.

Within this period, the 1967 Sexual Offences Act became law which
decriminalised homosexuality in England. I was now nineteen years-of-age
and unbeknown to my parents, I was enjoying numerous liaisons with
guys. Some took place where they lived whilst others were undertaken in
public toilets and cruising grounds, which to those in the know were many
and varied.

At the age of twenty, I achieved professional AAT Accountant status so I
was now fully qualified. I decided to remain at the same firm as they'd
supported me through my training. Since I enjoyed the work and got on well
with my colleagues, there seemed little point in moving on.

It was around this time that my family started to constantly enquire about
my love life, with questions such as "Any lucky ladies in your life?" and
"When are you going to settle down and get married?" Further comments about
the importance of having kids, invariably followed these. The main pressure
came from my mother and brother whilst my father made little comment. I
went along with it and made jokes back about not finding the right woman
but as time went on, I felt under extreme pressure. My brother had married
at age twenty-two and produced his first child two years later, so I was
expected to do the same.

Although I was doing well at my accountancy firm, a colleague recommended
that I move on to gain wider experience. I therefore left at age twenty-two
and joined a smaller accountancy practice in Shepherds Bush as a
fully-fledged accountant. In those days, obtaining a new job was far easier
than in today's climate. I had the pick of the field with three job offers
to choose from.

I was still meeting guys for sex and now homosexuality was legal, gay
venues started to appear. The Catacombes in Earls Court was the first I
frequented and like most, it was a seedy underground bar. Despite this, it
was good fun and a place where gay men like me could feel at home. Once
inside, it was safe but you had to have your wits about you when you came
out on the street. Even though we were now legal, the attitude of the
general populace was one of disgust and there was plenty of homophobia
around. To some extent, it was worse because we were news so there were
plenty of roughnecks who were prepared to put the boot in given half the
chance. I therefore exited such venues and made a hasty retreat, making
sure that I didn't go down any dark alleys where I'd be set upon.

It was at the Catacombes that I met Phil. We were the same age and had much
in common so we became good friends, as well as fuck buddies. Like me, he
was versatile so we enjoyed each other all ways. He always said he enjoyed
my cock up his arse, and I certainly enjoyed having it there. He was also
under pressure from his parents to find a girl and get married. His father
confronted him one day and said "You're not a fucking poof, are you?" Phil,
of course, said he wasn't but decided to leave home. He rented a bedsit in
Hammersmith which was where we spent many a happy hour satisfying our
sexual needs.

In 1976 a nightclub called Bang opened in Hoxton. Despite it being in the
east end of London where in those days being gay was even riskier than
Earls Court, we all wanted to try it out. It was a fun place and everything
imaginable went on but Phil and I were always very wary of the area, so we
stopped going.

I was now twenty-eight and it was whilst at a straight friend's party that
I met Barbara. She was very interested in me and I decided she was pleasant
enough so didn't immediately push her away. A few days later she called me,
having obtained my telephone number from my friend. I had left home two
years earlier and now owned my own one bed flat which gave me plenty of
opportunity to take guys back for sex. However, I was now under extreme
pressure from my mother to get married and my brother called me a wimp plus
a few other choice words. Because of the pressure, I was very depressed and
again thought about ending it all, but didn't have the courage to do
it. Barbara wanted to meet up and having received another long speech from
my mother the previous evening about marriage and raising a family, I
agreed.

We met and went for a drink which was soon followed by a meal together a
few days later. She lived in a bedsit in Ealing but I never visited and I
never invited her to my flat. After yet more questioning from my mother and
snide comments from my brother, I started to consider Barbara as a possible
wife. She wasn't particularly attractive but she had a pleasant personality
so I let things drift on. During another round of questions about girls, I
let slip to my mother that I was seeing someone but I quickly realised I'd
made a big mistake. My mother was delighted on hearing the news and wanted
to meet Barbara so she was invited to tea one Sunday.

After that, we went out together several times and she invited me to meet
her parents who lived up north. I hesitated but finally agreed, so one
weekend we drove up in the old Ford Anglia I had at that time. Her parents
clearly saw me as their future son in-law which was all very embarrassing.
A week later, she popped the question. In those days, it was usually the
man who proposed but I guess she decided that if she didn't, I never would.

I didn't accept immediately and told her I wanted to be sure so went home
to think about it. That evening, my mother called and said she thought
Barbara would make a perfect wife. How the hell she knew, I had no idea but
said nothing. I also didn't let on that an offer of marriage was under
consideration.

"It's time you settled down" was her parting shot. I thought about it well
into the night and decided I could probably live with Barbara. At the time,
my plan was to put up with marriage for a couple of years and then divorce
her on the basis that it wasn't working. I hoped that my mother would then
accept that I wasn't made for marriage.

The next day, Barbara called me to get my answer so I said `yes'. She, of
course, was delighted even though I'd made the proviso that the wedding was
to be a small affair. Both sets of parents were also delighted and my
brother left a message on my answerphone saying "About time". I ignored him
and avoided his calls whenever I could.


2.

The wedding took place six weeks later and was held in the town where
Barbara's parents lived so I had to stay in a hotel overnight. I spent the
night in torment trying to decide whether I was making the right decision.
I didn't want to get married but I was depressed because of constant
pressure from my mother, not to mention the snide comments from my brother.
The only person who stayed out of it was my father, although I wish he'd
said something so I knew what side he was on. I therefore, had virtually no
sleep and by the morning was feeling like shit plus I was still asking
myself whether I could go through with it. At one point, I decided I
couldn't but then wondered how I could face the onslaught from both
families despite knowing that Barbara would probably have accepted my
decision.

I crawled out of bed, showered and dressed into my new suit before going
down for breakfast. I was far from being the happy bridegroom when I met my
parents. My brother had declined the invitation saying he couldn't make it,
although I didn't believe him but was pleased he wasn't there. Finally, we
walked to the church nearby and I waited for everything to kick off. To
this day, I don't remember what happened since I was in a daze and
wondering what the hell I was doing. Eventually, I realised the service was
over and we were being driven to the reception, which as requested was a
small affair. After the wedding, Barbara and I went for a two-week
honeymoon in France.

It was an odd honeymoon, not that I had experience of what a normal
honeymoon was like, but from my viewpoint it was more like an ordinary
holiday. Apart from a bit of petting there was no sex and we acted like two
tourists who happened to be married. During our entire marriage, I never
saw my wife totally naked and neither did she see me. Fortunately, she was
not highly sexed because the thought of `doing it' with a woman made me
want to puke. I can only remember having proper sex with her on two
occasions within the first two months of marriage. I knew she wanted at
least one child, so forced myself to do the deed. As I did so, I imagined
it was with one of the many guys I'd been with and somehow got through
it. Fortunately, she fell pregnant on the second attempt so after that we
came to an `agreement' that no more sex would take place. It hadn't been
discussed but it just happened and she seemed happy to go along with it.
Whether she found satisfaction from elsewhere, I have no idea but if she
did, it didn't bother me.

My son Keith was born in 1977 and the arrival of a baby meant we had to
move into a larger property so I purchased a terraced house in Paddington.
The new baby was the saviour of the marriage; he was a delightful little
chap and always appeared to be happy. As he grew older, I realised I
couldn't break up the family unit so resigned myself to many more years of
marriage until he was independent of his parents. During Keith's first year
I did my best to stop thinking of guys so had to tell Phil that I couldn't
see him any more. He was devastated but understood why, since he was under
the same pressure. He told me a few months later that he'd also married and
we lost contact.

My job now involved traveling to visit clients in major cities such as
Manchester, Birmingham and Leeds. Although I didn't realise it at the time,
it enabled me to keep my sanity. Barbara stayed at home to raise our child
having given up her job as a school assistant. During my travels, I found
boyfriends in each place so instead of staying in hotels, I had the comfort
of a warm bed and having sex with each guy.

In Manchester, I met Darren who was a year older than me. He was a big guy
and delighted in fucking me. We'd frequently visit Canal Street where all
the gay action took place. He also loved threesomes so if I was staying for
two or three days, he'd arrange for someone he knew or had met for a
session with us. I loved these sessions and being the bottom for the two
guys who'd dress up in their leather gear and stick their stiff cocks
through their harness so they could fuck me. After these sessions, I'd go
home with a sore arse, but it was worth it.

Earl was the guy I met in a gay bar in Birmingham. He was three years
younger than me and had a stunning body. Whenever we went out together, I
had to fight off the competition. He had a beautiful arse which he loved
being fucked so whenever I was with him, I was always the top. Trevor was
my guy in Leeds. He was a cute twenty-two-year-old who loved older
guys. The first time he saw me the other side of the bar, he made a beeline
for me. We hit it off immediately and became good friends. He also loved
being fucked and I was more than happy to oblige whenever we were together.

I first became aware of AIDS in London in 1982 although I'd read about this
terrible epidemic in Los Angeles before then. At first, those I had sex
with didn't take much notice and we carried on as usual.  We all took the
view that it would soon blow over. In 1983 I started my own accountancy
practice with Leigh, who was a colleague of mine at the firm in
Richmond. The founder of the business had retired and the new owner made
some disastrous changes which affected staff morale and the service to
clients. I'd always dreamt of running my own business so Leigh and I
decided to take the plunge. I provided the capital to set it up and made
Leigh a partner.

Since he lived close to where I lived, we found an office in Paddington. At
age thirty-three, Leigh was two years younger than me, but an excellent
accountant. We'd already worked together on assignments so knew we'd make a
good team. To start with, we employed an admin assistant but knew we'd
require more staff in due course if things went well. As soon as some of
our regular clients at the old firm heard we were leaving to set up a new
business, several of them came with us. These included those clients of
mine in Manchester and Birmingham, who also had offices in London, which
was brilliant. It also meant that I'd still be traveling to those cities on
a regular basis and having fun with Darren and Earl.

It was later in 1983 that I watched two friends slowly die of AIDS. I'd met
them separately in a cottage I frequented. The first time we sucked and
wanked each other off in a cubicle but on the second occasion they each
invited me back to their place where we fucked. They didn't know each
other, but both knew me and we'd had sex, which in those days was
unprotected. I was convinced that I'd also been infected and would die of
AIDS. The only thing I knew was that I'd not done it with them for several
weeks before they became ill.

I first heard about Jim through another friend so went to see him in
hospital. I knew he had no family having been ostracised by them because of
his sexuality so guessed he'd feel very alone. Although very weak, I could
tell he was delighted to see me. He'd lost a lot of weight and looked very
ill; his skin being covered with sarcomas. I was shocked but tried not to
show it as I held his hand. I asked the nurse what other visitors he had
and she said I was the only one. I knew he had other friends because I'd
met them but none of them visited. Over the next two weeks I visited every
day and watched his decline.

A few days after my first visit, I saw Ron lying in a bed next to
Jim. Neither knew each other and both were too ill to be introduced to one
another yet here they were slowly dying in the same ward. At first, I
barely recognised Ron because he'd lost so much weight and his face was now
gaunt. When I took hold of his hand he looked at me and gave me a weak
smile. He too had been banished from his family and I never saw anyone else
visiting him so I split the visiting time between them. Jim was now rapidly
slipping away and at times didn't know I was there so I'd move to Ron and
hold his hand.

Jim died at the end of two weeks and the nurse told me he'd slipped away
during the night. "I know he appreciated your visits so at least he knew
one person cared." I was touched by her comments and felt tears in my eyes
as I asked what would happen to his body since his family didn't care. She
told me that with no family contact, the council would arrange a
cremation. I couldn't let that happen so I contacted the appropriate
authority and said I'd arrange and pay for one. A few days later, whilst I
was making the arrangements, Ron died. His deterioration had been faster
than Jim's. Since he too had no family come forward or anyone else, I
agreed to arrange and pay for his funeral as well.

The nurse said I was an angel but I certainly didn't feel like one. I felt
it was the least I could do in the circumstances. They'd both been good
friends over the years so I wanted to do this for them. It was a double
cremation and I was the only mourner. Their ashes were scattered over the
garden of remembrance at the crematorium and I paid for a simple plaque. It
gave their names, their dates of life and a simple message that said `In
remembrance of my two good friends who didn't know each other but who died
of AIDS in the same ward within days of each other. May they rest in
peace.'


All this came at a difficult time with a new business to run but Leigh was
very supportive and understood why I wasn't fully focused on work. I'd
decided to tell him my secret because I knew I could trust him to keep it
to himself. I was glad I did because it helped me tremendously.

The business quickly grew and within a few months it was thriving. Several
months later, we heard that our old company had gone bust so we had more
clients knocking on our door as well as staff who'd been made redundant. We
couldn't help them all but we took on three accountants, two admin staff
plus a finance assistant, who was very cute. We also had to move into
larger premises which we found nearby. It was a struggle at first, but we
were soon making a handsome profit.

I was still leading a double life and traveling to Manchester and
Birmingham. I'd also met Gerard in a bar called the White Swan in
Limehouse. It opened in 1986 so gays flocked to it to try it out. It was
good and is still going after thirty years. Gerard was an artistic type and
I liked him very much. He loved being fucked by my big tool and couldn't
get enough of it. He also smoked hash and got me onto it, although I only
ever smoked it when with him. I spent many a night with him, pretending to
my wife that I was away on business, and had a great time. He also owned a
cottage in Cornwall so he invited me to join him for a long weekend. I
accepted and told my wife that it was a conference. It was in June and the
weather was perfect so we spent most of the time sunbathing naked in the
garden in between sessions of wild sex. The cottage was miles from anywhere
so we had no nosey neighbours around us. It was a perfect few days and we
both enjoyed ourselves immensely.

Life continued much the same for many more years. I led my double life
leaving my wife to run the house and bring up our child. Thinking back, I
wasn't a very good father since I seldom did the kinds of things that
fathers do with their sons because I was either away on `business' and when
I was home, I was busy running it, but he never complained. He was a
popular child so always had plenty of friends, many of whom were girls so
at least he hadn't inherited the `gay' gene from me, and he never did
without anything since I had plenty of money to spend on him so in the
overall scheme of things, he did okay.

Keith finished his education at age twenty-three, having obtained a degree
in economics. He found a job and one day I asked him if he wanted a place
of his own now he was an independent adult. He said he'd love to but
couldn't see how he could despite earning enough to pay for a mortgage. I
encouraged him to make that step and said I'd give him the money for a
deposit on a house. Within a few weeks, he'd found what he wanted and
finally left home. I gave a big sigh of relief as I helped him pack his
things and move into his new home.

At last I knew I could get my own freedom so I sat down with Barbara and
explained that I'd been struggling with my sexuality for years and couldn't
continue living a lie so would be leaving her. To my surprise, she took the
news very well saying she fully understood and agreed to a divorce so I
acted immediately and spoke to a solicitor. We'd also agreed that the house
would be sold and she'd move in with her parents until she could find a
flat near them. I too had to find a flat and eventually found one not far
away. The house sold quickly and I made a handsome profit so I gave Barbara
half of the proceeds to purchase something for herself in due course.

Finally, we went our separate ways with good feeling between us and the
wheels of the legal process slowly turned before eventually granting a
divorce. Once I was settled in my new home, I knew I had to inform Keith of
the real reason for the separation of his parents. I invited him over one
evening and we sat facing each other. I started by saying I needed to
explain why his mother and I had separated and were seeking a divorce. He
sat there passively whilst I continued to explain how I'd been struggling
with my sexuality most of my life but avoided saying I'd only got married
because of continual pressure from my mother and snide comments from his
uncle. When I'd finished, I waited for a response. I so wanted his
assurance that it wouldn't upset the relationship we had, which was good
despite my numerous periods away.

He smiled and said it made no difference to him who I went to bed with and
hoped I'd be happy. I felt my body physically relax and let out a sigh of
relief before we hugged and kissed. After he'd gone I jumped with joy. Not
only was I free but the one person I loved had accepted me being gay. I
poured myself a stiff drink and thought about my new life. I also had to
decide who I told. I was now fifty-two and we were into the new millennium.
Both of my parents were dead by this time so I no longer had to explain it
to them. My brother and I had not spoken since my mother's funeral two
years previous and I pondered whether to tell him the news. In the end, I
wrote a letter to him in which I said "For many years I've been trying to
come to terms with my own sexuality. I have struggled with the fact that I
am gay and need to start a new life. Barbara has been very supportive
although I fully appreciate the tremendous blow this has caused her. We are
what we are and had I tried to cope any longer I would have ended up with a
nervous breakdown and made life miserable for her." I ended the letter with
"I hope you'll understand" although I knew the chances of that were very
slim.

Several days went by, during which I expected a phone call from him to
expound his feelings about having a gay brother and how disgusting I was,
but heard nothing. I eventually received a letter in which he said "It's
just as well our parents are dead." Quite what he meant, I'm not sure but
had no intention of finding out. We've not spoken or been in contact with
each other since. As many friends told me, it's his loss, not mine. I also
found that the so-called friends I'd made in my guise as a married man,
also dropped me but again I wasn't bothered.


3.

I decided to no longer hide the fact that I was gay at work and told Leigh
the news of my separation. Despite being a happily married man, he was very
supportive and between us the news slowly came out. I had several employees
make positive comments and one new finance assistant told me he too was gay
so was happy to work for a gay boss. If anyone didn't approve, they didn't
make their views known to me or Leigh. As he said "You're the boss, so if
anyone doesn't like it they know what they can do". Nobody did leave so we
assumed everyone accepted the situation.

Once out of the marriage, I found that I wasn't afraid to be openly gay
anymore. The social fears I once had were evaporating daily as I developed
a new self-worth as a normal human being instead of a failed excuse for
one. I was now a strong, independent man, and being in my early fifties
focussed my thoughts on what was realistic to hope for in the future. I
suppose many of us who `came out' late in life look back with a little pang
of regret about a wasted youth when we were physically in better shape and
had our whole lives ahead of us to live the life we'd always wanted to
lead.

Now I was living alone again and no longer had to hide my gay life, I went
mad on the gay scene, which of course by now had exploded from those early
days. I picked up several guys in bars and clubs and on occasions
frequented the well-known cruising grounds. I used the gay social network
sites for a while but decided I preferred meeting my sex partners in the
flesh rather than looking at an electronic image. Despite my age, I met
numerous guys who were interested. Most were younger who enjoyed having fun
with older guys. Over the next couple of years my small flat resembled a
knocking shop because of the one-night stands I had but I loved every
minute and I hope they did too.

I met guys of all shapes and sizes with different desires. Some wanted to
fuck me and others to be fucked. Some were leather guys and loved
dominating me, often having me crawling on the floor whilst they whipped my
butt before stuffing their big hard cocks up my arse. Whatever it was, I
loved it and they also had a great time. On occasions, I picked up twinks
so I'd be the master and fuck their cute arse with my big cock.

It was during this period that I met Tom. He was thirty-five and for some
reason hooked himself onto me. We frequently smoked hash and he made it
very clear when we first met that he hated using condoms and would only
have bareback sex. Up to now I'd been very good and always used protection
but my brain that night wasn't in gear so I agreed much to his delight. I
was on a high having smoked hash and I was desperate for sex having not had
any for a few days. When we were both starkers and he told me to get on my
knees so he could fuck me, I offered my butt like a lamb for slaughter.

He had a big cock and I couldn't wait to feel it inside me. As he pressed
the large naked head into my arse, it felt wonderful and reminded me of the
sex I'd had pre-1980. We became good friends and for several months we were
fuck buddies, or to be more correct, I provided an arse to fuck whenever he
wanted it. Like most gay men on the scene, I tested regularly and each time
the result was negative but the test six months after meeting Tom was
positive. I was retested just to make sure but that too was positive. I was
devastated and immediately called Tom but he never answered. I left a
message for him to call me without saying why but he never did and we never
met again. It was obvious that he knew he too was positive and since he was
the only guy I'd had unprotected sex with since 1980, I was certain I'd
become infected via him.

However, as they say `there's no point in crying over spilt milk'. It was
my fault as much as his so I had to move on. I was immediately put onto ARV
drugs which had improved immensely from those of earlier years but they
still had side effects. I suffered depression, sweats, stomach aches and
nightmares, and still do but at least I'm alive, unlike Jim and Ron. I also
found there was a lot of prejudice within the gay community about HIV and
frequently when I met guys who were interested in going home with me and I
admitted my status saying I was on treatment and provided we used
protection I was safe, many walked away.


I met Spencer in 2004 at a friend's party. He'd come along with another guy
who immediately dumped him as soon as they arrived so Spencer was feeling
pissed off. We chatted and I suddenly realised I was falling in love with
him. He was a lovely guy who was eight years younger than me and had a
beautiful smile. As we drank and talked, I had a feeling that he liked me
too. Either that or he was desperate to get off with another guy because
his so-called friend had dumped him. I later found out that he'd only met
the other guy two days before and he'd taken Spencer to piss off another
guy he fancied.

However, after several hours of drinking, I invited Spencer back to my
flat. As always, I told him about my HIV status and that my viral load was
not undetectable so any risk of passing on the infection was minimal. He
immediately said it wasn't a problem for him and even admitted that knowing
what he'd done in days gone by was surprised that he too hadn't become
positive. I immediately kissed him and it became intense. He felt me and
found my cock was rock hard. I felt his and it too was hard but not as big
as mine. "I hope you like using this to fuck guys" he giggled. I said I did
so we thanked our host for a great party and made our way home.

Once there, we didn't waste any time and soon had each other naked. We fell
onto the bed and within no time I had my big cock, suitably booted of
course, up his arse. We spent the next hour fucking and he loved it, as did
I. As it was now well past midnight, he stayed over. The next day was
Sunday so neither of us had work. I invited him to stay and we had many
more hours of exciting sex.

From thereon, we met up several evenings a week and each weekend. We both
knew we were in love with each other and had found our future
partner. Spencer had never been married or had a partner. As he put it
"I've had a string of boyfriends but nobody who I wanted to settle down
with, until now." We looked at each other and fell into one another's
arms. "I love you" he whispered.

"I love you too" I replied before asking him if he'd like to move in with
me. He said yes and the following weekend we cleared his rented flat in
Hackney and he moved in.


As the weeks and months passed by, we both knew we'd made the right
decision. We were now a proper couple and introduced each other to our
friends as partners. When Leigh heard, he was delighted and kissed me. I
was surprised at his sudden outburst but I could see he was genuinely happy
for me. Life went well over the next year, during which the Government
passed the Civil Partnership Act which allowed same sex couples to enter a
partnership which gave similar rights to those of a married couple. The
first registrations took place in December 2005 and we decided to have ours
in early 2006.

We chose wedding rings and I felt so relaxed and at ease with myself than I
did the first time round when it was with my ex-wife. Being gay isn't the
issue it used to be, and although I still look around a little
self-consciously when we're shopping together, and especially buying
wedding rings, most of the time I'm okay with it. I know that some of the
self-consciousness will never really depart and I doubt I'll feel
comfortable holding hands in public. I can't cast aside a lifetime of
conditioning, but each year that goes by, I feel better about being openly
gay.

The night before our ceremony, I was as excited as a five-year-old on
Christmas Eve. It was a far cry from the eve of my marriage. The ceremony
was being held at the local Registry office and the senior Registrar was
officiating. There'd not been such a big change in marriage legislation for
years so everyone was very excited. Leigh acted as my best man and Spencer
invited a long-term friend to be his. I passionately repeated my vows and
gazed into my lover's eyes as I did so. Every word meant so much to me and
I could feel that he felt the same way. I heard the Registrar pronounce us
as Civil Partners and we kissed. I wasn't the slightest bit bothered that I
was kissing a man in front of friends and the Registrar and supporting
staff. It felt the most natural thing in the world.

We'd booked the reception at a gay restaurant in Soho. We were their first
Civil Partnership celebration and they were delighted. It was a sit-down
meal for the ten of us and they pulled all the stops out for us making it a
memorable occasion. The whole day was wonderful and one that I shall never
forget.

Due to work commitments, neither of us could go away immediately after the
ceremony but we went to Palm Springs a month later. We had a fabulous time
and made love at every opportunity. This too was so different to my other
honeymoon. We were in love and we didn't cease telling each other, or
showing it when we had sex. Although it had taken a long time for me to be
an openly gay man, I was the most content I'd ever been. Some might judge
me for being cowardly or taking the easy option when I married a woman, but
that isn't a fair reflection of what happened; nor was it without it's
sacrifices. Sometimes we must make decisions that feel right for us at the
time. Some choices don't work out, some don't feel like choices at all, but
I don't have any major regrets. Life now was good.


My life continued in perfect happiness for the next ten years. I was still
madly in love with the man of my dreams and my business had exceeded all
expectations. No longer did I stay away on business except in very
exceptional circumstances, because I wanted to be with the man I loved
every night. I never tired of having his warm naked body up against mine
every night and making love to him so I sent one of my trusted staff to
service my clients in Birmingham and Manchester.

It was mid morning when I received a call to say that Spencer had collapsed
at work. I asked what had happened and the person calling wasn't sure but I
needed to get to the hospital where he'd been taken as soon as possible.
Leigh said he'd drive me as I was so worried. I grabbed my jacket and asked
my assistant to manage the best he could. The news sped around the office
in no time and as Leigh led me to out, everyone gave their best wishes and
hoped that Spencer was okay.

As Leigh drove, my mind was in turmoil. I tried to think what could
possibly have caused Spencer to collapse and be rushed to hospital. He had
good health and was never ill. It was me who had to regularly visit the HIV
clinic for blood tests and ensure the drugs were still doing their job. I
also tried to imagine life without him; I couldn't.

Leigh drove as fast as he could without breaking the speed limit or going
through red lights and eventually we drove into the hospital car park. We
rushed to the emergency department and I announced myself. Within seconds I
was taken into a ward and saw my love lying in a bed with a doctor and a
nurse bending over him. The person who'd accompanied me explained who I was
and the doctor asked me to wait a moment whilst he continued. When he'd
finished, he took me to one side and explained that Spencer had suffered a
massive heart attack. I asked if he'd be okay and he replied "We've done
all we can".

I looked at Spencer who was lying with his eyes closed, a mask over his
face and leads connecting him to a machine. I sat down, kissed his hand and
held it. "Don't leave me; I love you so much" I said with tears pouring
down my face. Was this the end of our beautiful life together?

~~~~~

Comments are always welcome so feel free to email me. If you have any ideas
for a story, let me know and I'll try and include them in one of my
stories.  Other stories by Adam Stewart can be found on the Prolific
Authors list.

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