Date: Tue, 13 Feb 2001 20:38:43 -0800 (PST)
From: X Y <modo_velis@yahoo.com>
Subject: My amazing double life

Life is a maze of opportunities and choices, drives and commitments,
actions and the roads they take us down.  Often we are unable to see
everywhere a decision takes us; other times we choose not to see so we can
freely experience all that life has to offer.  We are too complex.  A
triumphant and primal experience may lead down a road of distance from the
commitments that are ultimately most important to us.

In the fall of 1998, I completed my first marathon.  I was 28, married, no
kids, in love, great position with a high-tech startup in Boston.  I had
trained for the marathon alone, shedding twenty-five pounds off my midriff
and three minutes off my mile in the process.  Upon our return from the
out-of-town marathon weekend, I joined a local running club in Concord,
near our Boston suburb - a celebration of having "made it" as a runner.

I started running with the club one frosted morning two weeks later.  A
dozen or so people in shorts met at the town common.  We did quick
introductions, and split into two groups - long and short.  The short run
was a rough seven-mile loop, which sounded long enough to me.  After very
brief introductions, we started at a moderate pace up a hill under the
cover of ancient maples that still held about half their bright red leaves
and the sleepy watch of cozy colonial homes.

I learned quickly, as I sucked cold air trying to hold on to the tail of
the group, wondering if I could keep it up for seven or so miles of country
roads, that I had a lot of work to do as a runner.  I don't remember much
of the run.  I'm sure the late fall New England scenery was calendar
material, but I focused on maintaining cadence and keeping my lungs in my
chest.

I did finish without any serious medical complications, more or less in
sight of the group.  I watched people gravitate into clearly familiar
groups to catch up and swap the usual stories about home and work.  Before
I started to work my way over to the car, one of these groups found me:

"Hi, welcome.  I'm Rick, this is John, Dan, and Shreenath.  Welcome to the
club."

"Hi.  Alex.  Fine morning."  I replied.

"That it is, that it is", said Rick.

Pleasantries lasted a quarter hour or so.  Rick - blond straight hair,
starting to turn grey around the temples, forty-five?  Rick was wearing
shorts, top and bottom - clearly a die-hard.  Even I was wearing tights on
this cold October morning.  John - bald and apparently older - fifty?  That
would make John a fast masters runner.  Dan - mid-thirties, dark curly
hair, dark eyes, matchy running suit.  Shreenath - I'm not good at placing
Indian men - also wore a fancy matched running suit. I remember deciding to
never wear a running suit.

"See you next Sunday?" offered Rick.

"Wouldn't miss it." I replied, although I was unsure.  Of course, next
Sunday rolled around, and I rolled out of bed at 7:30 to make it to the
Concord town common by 8:00.

This time, Rick and I ran together.  I found I was running faster, probably
because I had healed a bit from the marathon.  We gabbed for eight miles
about this and that; Rick was divorced about a year ago, had three kids,
lived in a condo just outside the center of town, wife and kids lived in a
house near Carlisle.  I told him about me - recently married, bought a
house, startup in town, wife traveled most weeks...  Rick suggested we get
together for a run one evening midweek.

"Wednesday?" I picked at random.

"7:00?" Rick returned.

"What about traffic?"  I asked.  Running after dark anywhere near Boston
sounded ominous.

"Ever run in the woods at night?"  Rick asked.

"No - sounds dark."

"No, really, it's a kick.  Get yourself two mini-mag flashlights, one for
each hand.  You'd be surprised.  Once you get the rhythm, it's easy"

I pondered this, figured I could always walk out if I needed to, and said,
"Ok.  Where?"

"I usually go in through Walden Pond."

"There's parking after hours on the other side of Lincoln Woods, at the
Crossing, by the commuter rail."  I had little interest in getting towed
from the overwatched Walden lot.

And so it was set.  7:00, Lincoln Crossing, my first experience of running
in the woods at night.  On Monday, I stopped by REI and picked up two
mini-mag flashlights, "one for each hand."

It turns out that running in the woods at night is "a kick".  Unlike our
Sunday run, once we started running, we didn't talk much.  It takes to much
concentration to negotiate roots and stones at night.  Rick led the way
through the woods to Walden Pond, around the pond, and back out.  I
followed until Rick slowed to a walk just before the parking lot.

"Dinner plans?" Rick asked.

"I haven't made any, but I'd need to hop home for a shower."  Running, even
on a cold October evening, is sweaty work.

"Or my home." Rick offered.  "We're five minutes from my place, and there's
a great restaurant right in Concord center.  On me."

"Split." I said.

"You can have next time."

I followed Rick to his condo.

Rick lived in half of a duplex.  Hardwood floors, sparse furnishing.  The
space had a sparse, clean feel to it.  Shower was upstairs.  I showered
first, dressed, and we walked to the Walden Grille in Concord Center.  We
talked about work, about family, and split a bottle of wine.

I don't know what I was thinking.  Walking out of the restaurant, I was
immediately aware that I would not be driving home for a while.  I was glad
for the ten-minute walk back to Rick's place, but even then I had to say,
"I'm about an hour from being able to drive home."  I looked at my watch
for the first time since the end of the run - ten - late.  "And I need to
call my wife."

"I'm ok with that."  Rick said.  "Why don't you come in, use the phone, and
either we can hang for an hour or you can spend the night.  Whatever works
for you."

I called my wife's cell.  She was on her way to dinner somewhere in Dallas.
We talked only for a couple of minutes.  Rick had gone upstairs and came
down with two t-shirts.  "This should be more comfortable than a starched
shirt."  We changed; Rick poured two glasses of water.  "This should help
somewhat."  Rick sat in a chair; I sat on the sofa; we sipped water and
listened to Jazz on GBH, and talked.  Rick got up to get us more water,
came back, and sat down on the other end of the sofa.  The conversation
slowed.  Rick looked at me.

"What?"  I asked / said.

"You should spend the night; get a good night's sleep and pass by your
house in the morning."

"I can drive home."  I said.  "It's not far, and I'm sure I'm officially
sober."

"No, really." he said, standing.  "I have a guest room just for the
purpose.  Accidents can change your life."

Rick walked into the kitchen, pulled a new toothbrush out of a drawer and
tossed it to me.  I guessed I was staying.

We went upstairs.  I hung my pants in the guest room closet; rick tossed
his jeans onto his bed through the doorway.  We brushed our teeth in our
boxers, and made the bed in the guest room.

"Lie on your stomach." Rick said as we finished tucking in the blanket.

"Hmmm?"

"Lie on your stomach.  Trust me; I once studied this."

I looked at Rick.  He nodded toward the bed.  I lay down on the bed on my
stomach.

I felt Rick's hands on my shoulders through the shirt.  He massaged my neck
and shoulders, around the shoulder blades, my arms, my back, then my legs.
After running, a massage feels *amazing*.

Rick's hands worked the soles of my feet, my calves, the backs of my knees,
my hamstrings.

Slowly another awareness developed within me.  I felt Rick approach then
cross a line as he worked his hands up my legs until his fingers brushed
against my crotch, then up the legs of my boxers.  I felt my penis harden,
the tip working it's way up to the top of my boxers.  Rick massaged the
cheeks of my butt one at a time, then slid his hands up, under my shirt,
pulling it with his hands as he went.  I was nervous, excited, and shaking
a little bit.  I lifted my upper body, then my arms, so he could pull my
shirt all the way off.

It occurred to me that I had done this without even thinking about it, but
I didn't want to stop.  I don't know if I had ever been so aroused.  I
wanted to explode all over the world.  There was no need to hide anything -
I rolled over, showing my giant hard-on.  Rick's penis stuck straight out
the fly of his boxers.  I reached up and held it in my hand.  If felt
heavy, solid, warm, smooth.  I squeezed it.  Rick moaned, making me even
more aware of what I was doing.  I pulled Rick's boxers over his penis,
down to his knees - he was kneeling on the bed at this point.  He stood up
and finished the job of undressing, first stepping out of his boxers, then
pulling his shirt up over his head so that I could see his glorious runners
body - skinny, muscular around the legs and ass, a little bit around the
shoulders.  I pulled my own boxers off so that my own penis stood straight
up, inviting Rick's touch.

Rick walked over to the bed, and standing, kissed my lips.  I surprised
myself by kissing back. I felt more naked than I had ever felt before.
Rick knelt over me, then straddled me so that his penis was in my face, and
his face was in my penis.  He sucked his penis into his mouth.  It felt
warm, revolutionary, awakening, amazing, like no other sexual sensation I
had ever felt before.  His penis smelled strongly of, well, penis.  I
reached out with my tongue and touched the tip of it.  It felt warm, soft,
tasted slightly.  I reached up with my hands and grabbed his but, allowing
my fingertips to just touch his crotch, one pinky landing on his asshole,
and I pulled his penis into my mouth.

Rick made a noise, sucked hard, and I orgasmed what must have been a quart
of semen into his mouth.  I sucked hard in ecstacy and felt Rick's penis
tremble then deliver in six sharp contractions a mouthful of
salty-sweet-fertile tasting goo, which I swallowed for lack of anything
else to do with it.  Rick pulled back the covers, and we got into bed
together, sleeping like spoons, Rick on the outside.  This was the oddest
part of the evening for me - too reminiscent of an activity at home and in
another life.

I quickly fell asleep.

I awoke before dawn.  A digital clock told me it was 5:07 AM.  My mouth
tasted terrible - sugar overnight.  Rick was sprawled out on his back.
Suddenly I wanted to feel his penis in my mouth again.  I was instantly
turned on, still naked, ready for more.  I pulled back the covers, and
kneeling, picked up Rick's sleeping penis in my mouth and sucked ever so
gently.  Rick awoke with a long, slow, "mmmmmm", and allowed me to slowly,
patiently, work him to a smooth, tall erection, then a deep orgasm so that
his whole body convulsed with each gism-filled contraction of his penis.  I
swallowed the gism, already becoming accustomed to the flavor of cum.

A minute or two later, Rick pushed me over onto my back and came up between
my legs, first sucking my penis until it stood straight up - One
International Penis -then taking each testicle into his mouth, then sliding
his tongue down my crotch to my anus - a sensation I could never have
imagined.  My whole body tensed then relaxed as Rick's tongue and hands
explored my ass.

Then, just when I thought I couldn't take it any more, his hands slid up to
massage my chest as he pulled the whole of my penis into his mouth and
sucked.  Naked and gay in this life, I orgasmed with my whole soul,
delivering every last drop of semen in my entire body in spasm after spasm.

For a moment, we lay down in bed, enjoying feeling spent.

Then I got up, brushed my teeth, showered, dressed, went home, dressed
again, and went to work.

And so it happened that running in the woods at night was only one of many
first experiences that evening last October.

Once some things have been done, they can never be undone.  A can of worms
opened can never be closed.  And here I am, happily married textbook
suburbanite seven days and six nights a week, naked gay adventurer one
night a week.  Every time I look at somebody, I wonder, are they exactly as
they seem, or are they too leading a double life?  I wonder how long I'll
be able to keep each life intact, separate for each would certainly destroy
the other were the separation to be compromised.  I wonder what advice I
should be given.  And every Wednesday, after work, I drive to Concord for a
run, dinner, and to spend the night naked, gay, and alive.

-mv