Date: Tue, 12 Jun 2007 21:06:49 -0500
From: Morris Henderson <bigmoh@post.com>
Subject: My Conversion

NOTE:  This story is completely fiction.  If the description of sexual
behavior between men offends you or it is illegal for you to read it,
leave now.  My thanks to Mike M. who kindly critiqued a draft of this
story and provided several thoughtful and valuable comments that
improved the narrative.  As the author, I take full responsibility for
any errors or deficiencies that you may find.

    "This isn't working," I said to my wife over breakfast.
    "What isn't working?" she asked as she poured herself another
cup of coffee.
    "Our long-distance marriage.  Seeing you only on the few
weekends when our schedules permit just isn't what I would call a
recipe for a successful marriage."
    Sharon and I married right after graduation from college.  I took
over my family's construction business while Sharon attended
medical school.  By mutual agreement, we delayed having a family.
The plan was to start a family as soon as she finished her schooling
but I always felt that she would launch immediately into her career
as a doctor and would then want to postpone having a family again.
When she finished her internship and residency, she was offered
a position at a University hospital 1500 miles from our home in
Connecticut.  I was not happy but she was enthusiastic about the
opportunity and, after a week of discussion, she decided to take
the job.  She claimed that other couples managed to be apart
during the week with alternate visits to each other on weekends
and coordinated vacations.  I was not convinced of the viability of
her plan but I was convinced of her determination to accept the job.
I had to concede that it was a remarkably good offer and one that
would jump-start her career.  Consequently, I had agreed to try to
make it work.
    During two years of a long-distance, commuter marriage, I
recognized that the marriage was falling apart.  It wasn't for lack of
money.  We both had more than enough income to permit me to
fly to her home or she to mine.  Initially, the every-weekend visits
were superb but, over time, they became less frequent largely
due to her schedule or mine.  My business was taking off and I
often had to work weekends either supervising a project in peril
or doing the abominable paper work.  Her commitments also
began to require her to work weekends.  It had reached the point
where we felt lucky to see each other once a month.
    "Yes," she agreed.  "I've had the same thoughts.  In fact, . . .
don't get me wrong . . . but trying to arrange time for visits has
often been inconvenient.  I still like you, Brad, but, to be honest, I
can no longer say that I love you as much as I did."
    "I've noticed," I replied.  "There have been several signs that our
weekends were becoming an obligation rather than something to
look forward to.  I feel that way sometimes myself.  And I've sensed
that you do, too.  So where do we go from here?"
    I was hoping that she would be the first to suggest a divorce.  I
suppose it's just that I didn't want to be the one to walk out of the
marriage even though it wasn't working.  She was quiet for a few
minutes while I waited impatiently for her answer.
    Eventually, she said, "I suppose an amicable divorce would be in
the best interests of both of us.  We have no children, we've already
split into two households, there's no need for alimony but I suppose
I owe you for my tuition in medical school."
    "Forget about the tuition," I replied.  "That's history.  Let's
just go our separate ways."
    I was relieved that the discussion turned out the way it did.  I
had feared that she would object and offer promises to work things
out.  I think she was relieved as well because each of us had come
to the same conclusion independently but were afraid of the other's
reaction.  I flew home that afternoon feeling liberated.
    For the next six months, my life was simpler.  There was no longer
a need to get everything done by Friday afternoon.  My weekend
would no longer be spent on a plane and in bed.  I was grateful that
the split did not burden either of us with adversarial rancor that too
frequently leaves emotional scars that are slow to heal.  I missed the
sex, of course.  Masturbation became my only outlet and, while I
enjoyed it, I yearned for some 'real' sex.  On balance, however,
I have to say that my life was better.
    The winter season in the Northeast is a slack time for construction
so I had enough free time to visit the gym and to stop at a local
watering hole for a few drinks afterwards.  It was there, at the gym
and in the bar, that I met Jim.  He was slightly younger than
I was, in terrific shape, and had a personality that made a very
favorable first impression and improved from there.
    As we sipped our drinks that first night in the bar, I learned that Jim
taught psychology at the local Junior College.  He was on the varsity
baseball team while finishing his degree and now volunteered as a
coach of a little league baseball team.  He was single and lived no
more than 10 minutes from my condo.
    Of course, he inquired about my life and I explained that I was also
single after a marriage that couldn't span a 1500 mile gap.
    "I'm sorry," he said.  "It must have been very upsetting for you."
    "Not really," I confessed.  "Sure, there are some things I miss, like
the sex, for example, but I think it's good we split when we did because
our relationship was deteriorating and we parted as friends."
    Our conversation then turned to other things--my work, his job, our
likes and dislikes, and other nonconsequential banter.  Before I knew it,
it was close to midnight.  The time has passed so quickly because it
was so very pleasant chatting with Jim.  We had 'one for the road' and
I went home with more than a slight buzz.
    Two days later, I saw Jim in the weight room at the gym and again in
the shower after our workouts.   "Hi there, Brad," he greeted me as
I entered the shower.
    "Hi, Jim," I replied.
    I had seen him wearing only gym trunks and had admired how fit he
was--broad shoulders, well-developed pecs with a sprinkling of chest
hair, flat stomach, and muscular legs without being overly beefed up.
In the shower, however, he was even more striking.  Perhaps it was
the fluid movements as he lathered his body or perhaps it was his
demeanor that was casual, friendly, and not the least bit
self-conscious about being nude.  I also noted that his cut cock
was slightly larger than what I imagined to be an average size
and his balls hung low.  At the time, I didn't or couldn't acknowledge
any motive other than curiosity for my assessment of his genitals.
(Later, however, I would wonder whether my interest -- like perhaps
many or most men -- might have a latent and suppressed fascination
with and even attraction to the most obvious attribute of maleness.)
    "Have a good workout?" I asked.
    "Yeah.  But I'm thirsty as hell.  Care for another few rounds tonight?"
    "Sounds great."
    Actually, it sounded better than great because I really did enjoy the
conversation in our first meeting.  Apart from my employees, clients,
and a few business associates, I didn't have much social contact
with people.  The one, short time I had spent with Jim was more social
contact than I had had in ages.  I looked forward to another evening
over a few drinks with him.
    We ordered our first drinks and, instead of sitting at the bar, we
moved to a booth at the rear where it was less congested and a little
quieter.
    After about 20 minutes of conversation, I said, "You've told me that
you're single but I bet that you have a girlfriend.  What's she like?"
    He laughed and said, "You're wrong about that, Brad.  I've dated a
little but I'm very unattached at the moment."
    "Not for long, I would say.  It seems you're a prime target for every
single girl who sees you."
    He laughed again and said, "Thanks for the compliment but I'd rather
be the hunter than the prey."
    "Well, whatever girl you set you sights on will be lucky indeed."
    Jim suddenly got very serious and looked at me for a few
uncomfortable minutes.  I began to worry that I had touched a sensitive
nerve or had been too forward in my comments.
    Finally, he broke the awkard silence and said, "I'm afraid you're
wrong again, Brad.  I'm not interested in women.  You see, I'm gay.
I don't broadcast it but I don't hide it either.  Are you upset that you're
having a few drinks with a gay man?"
    I'm afraid my surprise at his revelation was too obvious in my facial
expression and belied my reply of, "Not at all."
    "Brad," he began in a friendly but serious tone, "I can tell that my
news has unnerved you.  You do recall that I'm a psychology instructor
so I can read other people's feelings.  If you're uncomfortable being
with me, I understand.  We can part company as friends."
    "No," I said perhaps a little too emphatically.  "I'd like to be friends
with you...not part company.  It's just that I was surprised.  I never
expected..." my voice trailed off when I realized I was only making
my blunder worse.
    "That I'm gay?  Not all gays are effeminate, swishy or leather-butch.
Most of us, in fact, appear to be what you would call normal."  There
seemed to be a touch of defensiveness in his tone, all the more
remarkable because he had always been so cordial.
    "Hang on, Jim.  I don't want you to think I subscribe to the
stereotypes of gay men.  Nor do I want you to think that I condemn
gay behavior.  All I'm trying to say is that it just never occurred to
me that you were gay.  It's just unusual to meet one and it took me
by surprise.  And let me emphasize that I don't think any less of you.
You're charming, friendly, and I enjoy talking to you.  I'd like that to
continue.  I really would."
    Jim smiled, which I welcomed.  Perhaps I had dug myself out of the
hole I made by my initial reaction.
    "So tell me, Brad.  What do you really know about the gay life style?"
    "Very little, really.  I know, of course, that there's most probably a
genetic basis for it but it's also influenced by environment and
experience.  I know that there are bigotted extremists who condemn
it and religious zealots are chief among them.  Persecution and
discrimination is all too common and, if I may add, unforgivable.
I also know that there's an increasing recognition, even tolerance if
not acceptance of gays.  But beyond those generalities, I'm completely
ignorant."
    "I see," he replied but there was something in his tone and
expression that seemed to indicate he was not satisfied with my
answer.  My suspicion was confirmed when he continued, "You
say that you accept the reality of homsexuality and dislike how gays
are treated in society.  That might be just a tactful thing to say to a
gay man or it may accurately reflect your opinion. Let me ask you a
question.  And please be honest.  How do you really feel?  Is
homosexuality distasteful to you?"
    "Distasteful?  No, I don't think it is ... for men who are born or
become gay.  I'm not one of them, however.  I've never been
attracted to men ... except, perhaps, as a young teenager going
through puberty.  At that time, I was fascinated with how boys
became men and admired a few of them.  But I found girls to
be even more interesting.  But I'm not answering your question,
am I?  Is homosexuality distasteful to me?  No.  Homosexuality is
uncommon but not abnormal.  I don't think it's a sickness or sinful.
It's not something to be 'cured' by psychotherapy or prayer any
more than hair color or left-handedness.  So I suppose you could
say that I accept it even though it's not something that appeals to
my taste.  I had a satisying marriage--at least the first few years--
and have never had the urge to...well...have sex with a man."
    "Aha!" Jim said.  "Unwittingly, you've just revealed how your
concept of gay is limited."
    "How so?" I inquired while trying to recall what clues I may have
given him.
    "You said you've never wanted sex with a man.  That ignores
the most important characteristic of a meaningful gay relationship.
I admit that gay sex can be satisfying and that some gays are
obsessed with sex.  Just as some heteros are.  After all, sex
has been wired into our being through eons of evolution.  But
sex is just a physiological drive.  We also have emotional and
spiritual needs.  'Gayness' can and should mean far more than
physical contact.  In my view, a complete gay relationship must
begin with an emotional and intellectual bonding between two men.
That's the foundation for a lasting, loving relationship just as it is
with a married couple.  The sex, however satisfying, is an
expression of the devotion and commitment that we call love."
    "I suppose, then, that I've revealed the depth of my ignorance
about gay people.  Like most men, I've mistakenly believed that
gay was meant only anal and oral sex between men."
    "Don't feel guilty or punish yourself for thinking that," Jim said
reassuringly.  "It is a common perception.  And it's made stronger
by the vested interests of those who condemn homosexuality.
Penetrating a woman's vagina is acceptable because it's undeniably associated with procreation.  Penetrating a man's mouth or anus
doesn't seem to link with any biological or evolutionary purpose.
However, coupling does meet a number of emotional, spiritual, and
psychological needs.  Coupling is predominately between a man
and a woman but the same needs can be met when gay men bond
with each other."
    "I can tell you're very effective in the classroom with your students.
You've given me, in a few minutes, a valuable education with your
clear and compelling arguments."
    Jim chuckled and joked, "Your compliment is appreciated but many
of my students who would disagree with you.  In the classroom, I can
be obnoxious in demanding that the students think ... and base their
conclusions on facts and logic."
    "Maybe it's the atmosphere.  Conversation in a bar over drinks
seems a much better way to learn than in a stuffy classroom.  By the
way, your glass is empty, I'll get us another round."
    While waiting for the bartender to fix our drinks, I marveled at
Jim's self-confidence and comfort with being gay.  More significantly,
I admired his emphasis on having a meaningful relationship.  What
he said made a lot of sense.  I wondered if I dared to ask him a
question that came to my mind.
    "Here's yours," I said as I returned to our booth and set his drink
in front of him.  When I sat down, he raised his glass and said, "And
here's to love and companionship; may we each find it in our own way."
    I joined in his toast and said, "That leads me to a question I want to
ask, professor."
    "I'm off-duty," he joked, "but fire away."
    "This is a personal question and you don't have to answer but I'm
curious.  Have you found a partner?  Your toast implies that you
haven't yet."
    "No.  I'm still looking.  There are lots of ways to meet another gay
man and I've met several.  Along the way, I've had some good sex
and some great sex but it's turned out that either he or I have decided
not to continue the relationship.  I tried gay bars but that didn't work.
There may be someone there who is looking for more than a quick
romp in bed but I didn't find him.  It's not worth the hassle to segregate
the trash while hoping to find a gem.  I tried the Internet chat rooms.
That was promising but most of the men live too far away.  And some
of them, like those in a gay bar, were just trolling for sex.  I've also
attended some meetings of gay-support groups.  That's a little more
promising but I haven't really found anyone yet."
    "That's a shame," I said.  "I would think that a lot of guys would be
lucky to have you as a partner.  Although I would imagine that they
would have to be exceptional to deserve you."
    Jim laughed and said, "My, the booze has certainly lubricated your
flattery.  Not that I'm complaining."
    "I calls 'em as I sees 'em," I replied.
    Partly due to the booze relaxing my sense of reserve but mostly
because of the rapport Jim and I seemed to have developed, I
ventured to ask another personal question.  "I had a marriage but
it's over.  Have you had a partner in the past?"  I immediately
recognized how inappropriate my question was and added,
"Sorry.  That's none of my business.  You don't have to answer."
     "Ah, but I do," he responded.  "First of all, I'm a teacher and I'm
compelled to answer questions even when the answer is 'I don't
know.' Secondly, I welcome the opportunity of enhancing your
understanding of what it's like to be gay.  I had several gay
experiences in high school but they were just the result of hormones.
Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed every one of them but, at the time, I
was doing it just for the sex.  A genuine relationship was not even on
my list of priorities.  I know you're wondering so I'll tell you that it
started out with mutual masturbation and proceeded to oral and to
anal sex...with, as I recall, half a dozen boys my age.  In college,
I began to re-examine my priorities and concluded that sex was
still fun but what I wanted was a loving relationship.  I thought I
found that during my Junior year.  Todd was bright, serious, very
attractive, and we seemed very compatible.  We shared an
apartment through our Senior year and I really felt that I had
found somebody to share the rest of my life with.  Unfortunately,
he didn't feel the same way.  It turned out that, while we had a great
time together--including sharing a bed--he was in it just for the short
term.  Just before graduation, I started talking about where we would
live after graduation.  He avoided those discussions initially but finally
had the courage to tell me that it had been fun but it was over."
    "That must have been devastating," I said.
    "Yes, it was.  Since that time, going on five years now, I've been
looking for somebody else but, as I said, I'm batting zero."
    "This may sound strange," I ventured, "but it sounds like the story of
the most popular kid in high school who doesn't have a date for the prom.
Everybody is afraid to ask her because they assume she'll go with the
captain of the football team or the student body president.  Maybe guys
are just afraid that you're already taken."
    "Not that way at all," he replied.  "I've been hit on frequently.  I've
had plenty of opportunities for sex.  I've taken advantage of a few
when I was either turned on and horny or when I really liked the guy
and thought there was a chance of achieving something permanent.
None of the guys turned out to be what I wanted.  Most of them
seemed more interested in sex than a committed relationship.
They want to go to bed too soon.  They're secretive or evasive
about their personal life.  We always meet at my apartment and
never at their place.  They are not willing to talk about the future or
are obviously insincere when they do."
     "It must be very frustrating," I said.  "Is it depressing?"
    "Sometimes," he said thoughtfully.  "But I keep hoping.  One day
I'll meet somebody.  The chemistry will be there.  Things will click.
We'll establish a close friendship that will mature into a committed
love.  There will probably be sex between us along the way but it's
secondary to what I want more: devotion, commitment, love."
    "I really hope you find it," I said quite seriously.
    "It will happen sooner or later.  The man I find, if you don't mind my
saying so, will be very much like you.  It's too bad you're straight and
not a viable candidate."
    "Now who's indulging in flattery!" I joked.
    "Seriously, Brad.  We only just met but I enjoy your company and
would like to count you as a friend.  Just that, by the way, a friend.  I'm
not hitting on you."
    I raised my glass and said, "To friendship!"
    We clinked our glasses together and finished our drinks.  I declined
his offer to get another round, explaining that I had an early morning
meeting with a client where I had to have all my wits about me.  As we
parted, we agreed to meet at the gym on Friday and continue our
conversation after that.  As I drove home, I pondered the lesson he
had given about gays and, more significantly, how much I admired
and genuinely liked him.
    Over the next three weeks, we got together at least twice a week.
We met for dinner a few times and even went to a movie together.  It
was as if we were dating but, of course, the ground rule of 'friends-only'
had been agreed upon.
    At each meeting, we became more comfortable sharing ideas and
opinions on a range of topics.  He listened patiently while I complained
about demanding clients and feather-bedding employees.  I
sympathized with his frustration over students who wouldn't or couldn't
think but whined about their poor grades.  We shared stories about our
younger years and family.  Through it all, I found myself revealing more
of my life and inner thoughts than I would ever have imagined.  And I felt
completely comfortable doing it.  I had come to treasure the time we
spent together.
    On a Wednesday night at the end of that three-week period, he asked,
"What's on your agenda for the weekend?"
    "Not a lot.  Business is slow this time of year.  I thought I might run
some errands...my car is due for service, dry cleaner, groceries, maybe
even some time for recreational reading, nothing urgent."
    "Can you spare a few hours from mid-afternoon to evening on
Saturday?"
    "Sure.  You have something in mind?"
    "Matter of fact, I do.  My parents own a lodge in Vermont.  There's a
beautiful view of a lake, a boat, lots of woods surrounding the lodge,
even some wild life--deer, ducks, that sort of thing.  I thought you might
like to take a drive up there to get away from things for a while.  I don't
know if there's food there but we could take some groceries and cook
dinner or, better yet, there's a lovely little restaurant about five miles
down the road that has the best sirloin you ever tasted.  How about it?"
    "Sounds wonderful.  I'd like that very much."
    "Splendid!  I'll pick you up at, say, one on Saturday.  We should get
to the lodge about two or a little after.  That will give us time to do some
hiking, boating, or whatever appeals to you.  Then dinner and home
again.  It will be a micro-vacation for both of us."
    "There is one request I have, however."
    "And that is?"
    "I buy the dinner."
    "Your on, my friend."
    That evening, I grew more and more excited about the opportunity
to spend several relaxing hours with my new best friend.  I did,
however, do some serious soul-searching over how much I liked Jim
and how I enjoyed being with him.  He was always pleasant and cordial,
he had an incisive mind without being pedantic, his values, particularly
with regard to companionship were admirable, he showed occasional
flashes of wit that never disparaged anyone, and -- most of all -- I
thoroughly enjoyed his companionship.  But, alas, he was gay and
would eventually find a gay man to devote his life to.  I envied whoever
that man might be.
    I didn't see him on Thursday or Friday but I thought about him often.
I thought about how much I admired him and enjoyed being with him.
I had to admit that I missed not seeing him.   And then it hit me.  I was
experiencing many of the signs of companionship that he had ascribed
to a healthy gay or hetero relationship -- high mutual regard, interest in
the other's needs and wants, willingness to help without an expectation
of reciprocation, and, most significantly, the undeniable pleasure of
simply being in his company.  All of those things, of course, might
describe how two very good friends feel about each other, even two
completely straight men who would never consider going to bed with
each other.   But somehow my feelings were running more deeply
than mere friendship.  That was surprising ... and a little unsettling.
    A wild thought came to mind--if only I were gay, I could share my
life with him.  I immediately dismissed it but it lingered, took root,
and grew.  By Saturday, the initially wild thought was even more
compelling.  I knew, of course, that to be his partner would require
my becoming gay.  I would have to accept all the unique
consequences of being gay--the discrimination, the gay sex.
It would require a fundamental shift in my basic character.  However,
I would be living with a man who I had undeniably grown to admire
and whose company I treasured.  I liked him at our first meeting and
that liking had developed into a true affection.  Just what was I willing
to do and to become in order to maintain and continually improve a
relationship that, without a doubt, meant a lot to me?
    Promptly at one on Saturday, my phone rang.  "Brad.  I'm out in front
of your building.  You ready?"
    "Park the car and come on up," I replied.  "I'm almost ready."
    "I can wait here," he said.  "It won't be long, will it?"
    "No, not long.  But I'd like you to come on up anyway."
    I'm quite sure that Jim had no clue but I had decided that, yes, I would
like to live with him.  The one reservation I had was the sexual
component of a relationship.  I had never been sexually attracted to men
but neither did I think it was objectionable if the sex was, indeed, the
result of a caring bond between two people.  My inviting him up to my
condo was therefore a tactical move to assess any possible interest
either he or I had in a more meaningful relationship.
    The doorbell rang and I opened the door, inviting Jim inside.
    "What's the deal?" he asked.  "Are you ready?"
    "The deal is," I began, having carefully planned my comments.  "You
invited me to your place...or at least your parents' place.  And I wanted
to invite you to mine."
    He looked quite puzzled and said, "That's all?"
    "I remember your saying that it was disappointing to always meet at
your apartment and never be invited to a friend's place.  Well, I didn't
want to disappoint you."
    He gave me an astonished look, paused, and said, "But that's when
I was talking about finding a serious partner."
    "Right," I said as I cocked my eyebrows.  "I'm ready."  I paused for
what I hoped was just the time it would take for my covert meaning to
register and then said, "Shall we be on our way?"  My comment about
being ready was deliberately enigmatic but I hoped he would catch the
double meaning.
     The drive to Vermont was pleasant but our arrival at the lodge was
breath-taking.  Jim's description did not do justice to the beauty of the
lodge and its setting nestled among towering pines whose branches
drooped from a covering of snow.  The long driveway from the road to
the house had been plowed and Jim parked near the front door. The
inside of the lodge was just as impressive--rustic but furnished in an
elegant way without any sense of oppulance.
    "Make yourself comfortable, Brad.  I'll just start a fire to take the chill
off.  There's a propane furnace but I think the fireplace is more in
keeping with the surroundings."  I took a seat in an armchair.
   Having started the logs in the fireplace with, I assumed, a propane
burner, Jim sat on the sofa facing me.  "So," he began, "What do you
think of the place?"
    "It's beautiful.  I've never been too keen on winter and snow but this
place could change my mind.  I change my mind often, you know...when
there's a good reason to."  I hadn't planned that comment but it seemed
to fit my mood and the situation.  Jim, however, didn't show any sign of
picking up on my ulterior meaning.
    "I love this place," he said.  "I come here as often as I can but usually
in the summer when school's out.  It's even more beautiful then.  So,
would you like to hike?  Boat?  Build a snowman?  What's your
pleasure?"
    "My pleasure?" I mused.  "I suppose my preference is to explore
something new and see what pleasure it might hold."  I paused just
long enough for Jim to hopefully recognize the clue.  If he did, he
didn't show it so I continued.  "I'll be honest, Jim.  As I said, I'm not fond
of snow so the hiking doesn't appeal to me.  But it might be fun to go out
on the lake and look around."
    "I was hoping you would say that.  There's a cove, just around the
bend in the shoreline, with a very impressive waterfall splashing down
a large cliff.  I don't think it's cold enough to be frozen so let's go take
a look."
    I helped Jim take the tarp off the small skiff that, fortunately, had an
outboard motor so we wouldn't have to row.  He tossed me a life jacket
and grabbed another for himself.  Ten minutes later, we rounded the
bend of the shore and saw the small but spectacular waterfall.  He shut
off the outboard motor and stared at the waterfall.  Almost to himself,
he said, "Lot's of memories for me here.  I used to come here in July
and August when the water was only chilly and not frigid.  I would
skinny-dip until my whole body was pruney."
    There was another opening for me that I couldn't pass up.  "Were
you as good-looking then as you are now?"
    He jerked his head around and stared at me.  I couldn't tell whether
it was because I interrupted his private reverie or that he seemed to
have finally caught on to the signals I had been sending.  His response
did not resolve the mystery.  "Nah.  I was a lanky teenager."  He then
proceeded to point out where he swam, the best places to dive from,
and, several yards down the shore, where he would build a fire and
roast hot dogs for lunch.  "Now that spot brings back a special
memory," he mused, again as if talking to himself.
    "How so?" I asked.
    "Had my first blow job there.  I was 15.  A good friend and I had
been swimming and we ate lunch there.  We'd just been swimming
so we were both naked.  Well, we both let our hormones take over."
He paused to think a moment and continued, "Listen to me!  I'm telling
you things that I've never told anybody else.  I hope you're not shocked
or offended."
    "On the contrary.  I'm flattered that you're comfortable enough to tell
me."  Becoming more daring and explicit in my hints to him, I said, "In
fact, I think I would have liked to have been there with you."
    He gave me an intense look that most certainly meant he finally
understood what I had been very obliquely saying but he said nothing.
Instead, he started the outboard motor and we returned to the dock.
With very few words passing between us, we covered the skiff and
returned to the lodge that was, by this time, comfortably warm.
    He invited me to sit and be comfortable and said he would fix us
some hot chocolate.  He disappeared into the kitchen, leaving me to
wonder whether my hints and clues had been welcomed, resented,
or simply ignored.  When he returned with two mugs of steaming hot
chocolate, he handed me one and sat on the sofa.
    To break the awkward silence, I said, "I appreciate your invitation
to come up here.  It's far better than you described it."
    "My pleasure," he said automatically, thought a moment, and then
said, "Brad.  There's something I need to know.  I'd like to ask you
a few questions.  You don't have to answer but if you do, I'd like you
to be completely honest.  I think our friendship deserves nothing less
and I have no reason to believe that you would ever be anything but
honest."
    "Shoot." I said, half anticipating the nature of the coming questions.
    "You've told me that you don't condemn homosexuality.  Do you
really mean that?"
    "Yes.  Even before I met you, I accepted that gay behavior was
acceptable for those who are gay.  Since meeting you and learning
more about the gay culture and gay relationships, I've only
strengthened that opinion."
    "What's the distinction, in your mind, between gay sex and gay
relationships?  Remember, I expect that you'll be honest with me."
    "It's obviously different having heard you speak so eloquently about
companionship, bonding, and commitment.  I understand now that a
few gay men are selfishly out for pleasures of the flesh.  That's gay
sex.  Gay relationships, however, are different from traditional
marriages only in the fact that both partners are men who genuinely
love each other."
    "And your attitude toward discrimination and persecution of gays?"
    "Pardon me, Jim.  But I feel like I'm taking an oral exam in one of
your classes."
     Jim laughed.  "I apologize.  Occupational hazard, I suppose.  But
I really am interested in how you feel.  Don't tell me what I want to hear.
Tell me how you feel."
    "I said this before.  I meant it then.  I feel even more strongly now.
Discrimination and persecution of gays--or any other minority--is
repugnant."
    "Okay.  This question is a trick question.  I'll be listening to your
answer, of course.  But, as a psychologist, I'll be paying attention to
more than what you say.  Are you willing to answer knowing that?
    "Of course.  Providing that you tell me how you interpret what I say."
    "Deal.  Here's the question.  How straight are you?"
    I thought for a moment about his question and what he might be
looking for.  The logical conclusion--or at least the most probable--
was that he had, in fact, picked up on my obtuse hints and simply
wanted to verify what was in my mind.  I decided that I would stop
hinting and honestly reveal the results of my self-examination.  I didn't
know how he would react but I felt strongly that I had to be explicit.
    "That is tricky.  Not because I don't know the answer.  I'm pretty sure
that I do.  But the answer depends on a time frame.  Up until the last
week or so, I suppose I was totally straight.  I was attracted to girls as
a teen and later to women.  I married and had--for a while--a very
satisfying relationship with my wife.  I was never attracted to men or
had any urge to engage in gay sex.  Of course I masturbated a lot as
a young man and do now, since my wife and I split, but in my mind
that's not gay.  Now let's move the calendar forward to when I met
you.  I was immediately struck by how handsome and fit you are.  I
very soon came to admire your personality and character.  I found
that I looked forward to our time together.  It was fun.  You made me
feel totally at ease.  Hell, I never felt as close to my own brother as
I do to you.  In short, Jim, I've become very fond of you.  No, fond isn't
the right word.  Affection?  Love?  Whatever it is I feel, I want
to be with you and miss you when I'm not.  But back to your question.
How straight am I?  I think I know the answer.  It's certainly not the
answer I'd have given in the past.  I'm not as straight now as I was.
I'm not entirely sure that I'm fully gay but this I do know.  I've never
been more content than the times we're together.  And I'd like that
contentment to continue.  With you.  If that makes me gay, then I'm
gay.  But if I may, I'd like to add a qualification to my answer.  There's
one thing I'm not sure about.  I don't know how satisfying it would be
to have gay sex.  I don't know if my partner would be satisfied and
that would distress me.  You see, I have no experience to base an
opinion on."
    I had been totally honest but I was apprehensive because I was
not at all sure of Jim's reaction.  Without any prior intention, I had
confessed both my strong affection for Jim and my acceptance
if not desire for an intimate relationship.  Because of my regard for
Jim, I felt comfortable saying what I did.  Having said it, however,
I began to wonder--and worry--about how Jim would react.
    So there you have it, teach.  My oral essay that bares my psyche."
    Jim had been listening intently but burst out laughing at my
conclusion.  "Very good," he said.  "Are you ready for the next
question?"
    "How did I do on the last one?  You said you would tell me your
interpretation of my answer."
    "And I will.  Your body language, facial expressions, tone and
pace of speaking, but most of all your eye movements signalled
that you were not being deceptive or evasive.  Consequently, I
have to conclude that what you told me legitimately represents
how you feel about gays, about me, and, significantly, about yourself."
    "So I passed the test?" I joked.
    He laughed again with his easy, infectious laugh.  "It's not a test,
my friend.  I apologize if it seems like an interrogation.  It's just
that you've made several comments since I picked you up at your
condo that could be interpretted in different ways.  At first, I thought
that, as a gay man, I was particularly sensitive to comments that
might signal an interest in hooking up.  And I assumed that you,
as a straight man, had no clue about how your remarks could be
interpreted.  I just wanted to ask a few questions to avoid
misinterpreting what you said."
    "And your interpretation is?" I asked.
    "It's not conclusive but everything points to your interest in
a long-term relationship with me, which, if I may add, astonishes
me.  It's about the last thing that I expected.  After all, you've led
a straight life including a marriage.  I'm immensely flattered if that's
the case but I've never given any serious thought to your willingness
to live gay."
    "Then let me remove the doubt.  If living gay means living with
someone who is a delight to be with, someone you admire, someone
you have a strong affection for ... and I mean someone like you ,,,
then yes, I'm not just willing, I would jump at the chance."
    Jim grinned but then said something that disturbed me.  "Brad,
once again I'm flattered.  And I recognize your courage in saying so.
But I'm not sure you recognize all the implications of what you're
saying.  For one thing, we've known each other for only three weeks.
That's hardly enough time to fully assess out compatibility for years
to come.  Also, you said you are unsure of the sex part of a gay
relationship.  I respect you for saying that mostly because you
pointed out that you don't have the experience to support a
conclusion.  To continue with your equating of my questions to a
school examination,  I'm going to offer you a lab assignment.  You're
entirely free to accept or decline the assignment.  There's no penalty
for declining.  Here it is.  Think before you answer.  Would you like
to go to bed with me?"
    "No thought necessary.  Yes.  I would.  You've already taught me
so much.  I'm eager to learn more if you'll be patient with a complete
novice."
    Jim smiled broadly and said, "Final question.  Multiple choice.
a.  before dinner
b.  after dinner
c.  both of the above"
    "That's easy.  c.  I think it will take more than one lab session.
Remember, I'm a beginner at this."
    Jim smiled, rose from his chair and stepped over to me.  He took
my hands and guided me to a standing position.  "I want you to know,
Brad, that I welcome this unexpected turn of events.  But I also want
you to know that our having sex today is strictly for you to find out
whether you like it and want it to continue.  Please don't interpret it
as the beginning of a true relationship.  That may or may not happen.
Are you okay with that?"
    "Absolutely.  But am I allowed to hope that, eventually, I could be
the partner you've been looking for?"
    "Hope?  Yes.  Expect?  No.  We'll have to wait and see."
    He led me down a short hall and into a bedroom.  A queen-size
bed dominated the room.  Suddenly, I grew very nervous.  I had
only a vague notion of what to expect.  More significantly, I began
to worry that I couldn't get it up.  While I never had a problem getting
an erection when masturbating, my doubts about my virility in this
situation haunted me.  Fortunately, in his characteristic way, Jim
recognized my nervousness and said all the right things to settle
me down and then boost my confidence.  "I know this is all new to
you, Brad.  But it's going to be all right.  I'll take the lead but I'll stop
whenever you want me to.  If you're uncomfortable with anything,
just say so.  Because this is your first gay experience, I want it to
be special.  I want you to be happy with it.  Just relax and enjoy it."
    We stood by the bed.  Jim began unbuttoning my flannel shirt
while talking to me softly and reassuringly.  He pulled my tee shirt
up over my head and complimented me on the musculature of my
torso while giving what I felt were admiring glances.  Then, no doubt
to eliminate any embarrassment I may have over the only one being
undressed, he removed his own shirt and tee shirt.  "May I take off
your pants?" he asked and I nodded my assent.
    As he unbuckled my belt and unzipped my pants, I surprised myself
with a noticable swelling of my cock.  He slid my pants down below
my knees and asked me to sit on the bed so he could remove them
as well as my shoes and socks.  My heart was beating a little faster,
in part because I was venturing into the unknown but also because I
found his tenderness and concern for me somewhat erotic.  I sat on
the bed in only my boxers and watched him strip down to his.  The
bulge in his boxers was a clear sign that he, too, was getting aroused.
    "Lay back and relax," he said softly.  "I'd like to admire your body
for a little while."
    I willingly complied.  Propped up on one elbow beside me, he
began to run his hand over my chest, not so lightly that it would tickle,
not so forcefully that it could be called a massage, but with just enough
pressure to be pleasant ... and arousing.  I found, not surprisingly,
that I enjoyed what he was doing, which was all the more enjoyable
because it was Jim doing it.
    He nibbled on my ear.  He gave me a gentle kiss on a cheek.
When my former wife did that, I wanted more and would immediately
engage her in a passionate kiss.  That, in part, may have been what
compelled me to do the same with Jim.  A thought passed very
briefly through my mind: this is a man I'm kissing!  The thought was
quickly dispelled by an overpowering sense of pleasurable
stimulation.  Yes!  I want to do this!  It feels good.  It feels right.
    Jim broke the kiss, looked at me intently, and smiled.  I took
that to mean that he both enjoyed it and was pleased that I also
enjoyed it.
     While toying with my nipples, he said, "A man's nipples are
one of his erogenous zones.  Did your wife ever suckle your nipples?"
    "No, but I did hers and she seemed to like it."
    "A man's nipples can produce a similar sensation."  With that, he
leaned over and began licking, sucking, and stimulating one nipple
and then the other.
    "I had no idea that would feel good," I admitted.
    Without chuckling over my ignorance, he said, "It's just a hint of
the pleasures to come.  Are you ready to go on?"
    "Please."
    I felt his hand fondling my cock through the thin fabric of my boxers.
My cock responded quickly, going from semi-hard to fully erect in a
very short time.  All my worries about not being able to get it up were
gone.
    "Raise up you hips," he said, sounding more like a request than an
instruction.  "I'd like to take off your boxers if that's all right."
    He removed my boxers and said, "Beautiful.  Well proportioned.
Not grossly oversized.  Well shaped helmut.  You can be proud of
what you have, Brad."  I was sure that he was indulging in flattery just
to make me feel good but I was quite willing to accept his praise.
    He got off the bed, slipped off his boxers, and stood next to the
bed.  His cock was hard but not yet erect.  I found myself staring at
it.  I had seen it in the shower at the gym, of course, and had even
checked it out  but from idle curiosity.  I had never seen it erect, I had
never anticipated sexual engagement, and the effect on me was
astonishing.
    "You can touch it if you want," he said warmly.  I couldn't resist the
offer and reached, perhaps quite tentatively, to wrap my hand around it.
It was warm, silky-smooth, and I could detect a faint throbbing as more
blood rushed in to bring it a full erection.
    "I'm guessing that you've never had you hand on another man's
cock.  Am I right."
    "Yes," I mumbled, unable to say anything else.
    "Tell me how you feel doing it," he said.
    "I don't know," I said honestly.  "It excites me but I don't know
whether that's because it's taboo or because it's sexually arousing.
Maybe a little of both.  But I must admit, I enjoy it."
    "Good," he said with a hint of a smile.  "Are you ready to continue?"
    How like him!  Checking with me once more to be sure I was willing
to go on.  "Yes, please," I said.
    He laid down beside me once again and said, "I'm going to lick
your balls and your cock.  I'm going to take your cock into my mouth.
Are you all right with that?"
    "Yes."
    "Then I'm going to suck on your cock and swallow your cum.  Does
that offend you?"
    "No."
    With no further conversation, he kissed and licked his way from
my chest down to my crotch.  At the same time, he was fondling my
balls and cock, which sent bursts of pleasure radiating through my
body.  By the time his mouth reached my cock, it was so hard it felt
as though it would burst out of its skin.  When his warm, moist lips
encircled the head of my cock, I couldn't hold back a moan of pure
pleasure.
    "Are you all right?" he asked.
    "Yes.  Please don't stop.  It feels absolutely wonderful."
    As much as I wanted the overpowering pleasure to continue, I felt
the urgent need to cum and was powerless to hold it back.  I was
clenching the sheet on the bed and moaning deleriously when I felt
the first of several blasts of cum erupt into his mouth.  Following the
debilitating orgasm, I collapsed on the bed hoping to regain my
breath, consciousness, and normal heart beat.
    The next thing I was aware off, Jim was lying beside me, again
propped up one one elbow and a hand toying with one of my
nipples.  "Everything okay?" he asked.
    "No," I replied.  "Everything is simply wonderful.  You took me to
heights I never imagined possible."
    "I'm glad.  So what do you think of gay sex so far?"
    "As I said--it's wonderful.  Even more wonderful because it was
with you."
    Jim chuckled and said, "I don't know if you're being a salesman,
a diplomat, or just a man satisfied with his first gay blow job."
    "It's the latter, I assure you.   Sharon refused to even try it."
    "I'm delighted that you enjoyed it.  Conventional wisdom is that
a man gives a much better blow job than a woman because a man
knows what feels good.  That seems to make sense but I can't
speak from experience."
    "Nor can I," I replied.
    We wrapped our arms around each other and pressed our naked
bodies together in a long hug.  I was amazed at how wonderful it
felt and no longer concerned about doing it with a man.  I gave Jim
another kiss and said, "Thank you.  It was wonderful."
    He smiled and said, "You know the lab experiment is not over.
You've experienced receiving sex from a gay man but giving
sex to a gay man can be quite another story.  You may not like that."
    "There's only one way to find out.  Lay back.  I'm not nearly as
proficient as you but if you're patient with me, I want to try."
    "My, you are the adventursome sort, aren't you.  But I have another
suggestion.  Let's shower, get dressed, and go to dinner.  Then, we
can come back here for....for your second lab exercise."
    He had just subtlely reminded me that the sex was meant solely
to let me assess whether I liked or disliked it and not as an implied
promise that there would be other such experiences.  My
disappointment was tempered by his promise of another session
in bed after dinner.
    We showered--together of course.  I had showered often in the
gym when one or more men were present and the best word to
describe that experience was routine: get clean, rinse off, dry, and
get dressed.  I was not prepared, however, for the feelings I
experienced as I showered with Jim.  It was astonishingly erotic
and arousing as he lathered my body from toes to eyebrows and,
even more arousing as my soapy hands roamed all over his body.
I could never have imagined just a short time ago the thrill I felt.
Nor would I have thought how the very personal, very private act
of washing each other would produce an erection that was
almost painfully hard.  My erection persisted as I washed his
magnificent body.  It was during that shower together that I realized
that there must indeed be a gay part of me--and possibly other
men--that lay dormant and unrecognized until it was brought to
life in favorable circumstances.  I resolved to ask Jim, the
psychologist, about that some time.
    We ate dinner in the restaurant Jim had mentioned and the food
was superb.  We had agreed, on the drive to the restaurant, that we
would not talk about sex or relationships over the meal, partly because
our convesation might be overheard but also because, as Jim astutely
pointed out, we were still only good friends and should celebrate that
fact--another subtle reminder to curb my expectations.
    Upon arriving back at the lodge, however, I found that my mind and
my cock were both impatient to get back into bed.  That was a feeling
I hadn't had for a long time.  It was that way for about six months after
Sharon and I first married.  I now had that feeling with Jim.  I had
already accepted that I wanted to spend my life with him.  Now I
craved sexual intimacy, which meant, of course, that the dormant
homosexuality in me had been awakened and was rapidly maturing,
I fervently hoped that Jim would accept me as his life-long partner.
    We entered the lodge and Jim promptly put some more logs in
the fireplace and said, "The only down side to that restaurant is that it's
dry.  Can I fix you a night-cap?  I think we have almost anything you want
in the bar over there."
    That would delay what I really wanted to do but I said that a Scotch
and water would be nice.  We sipped our drinks and resumed the
conversation that started at the restaurant and continued throughout the
short drive back to the lodge.
    About fifteen minutes later, Jim said, "We're good friends.  I enjoy
your company and you've said you like being with me.  We've had sex
and will again tonight.  You've said that you want to live with me.  But
I have to be honest with you because you deserve it.  I'm not ready to
commit to a long-term relationship.  It's been only a few hours that I've
had to consider you as a partner and I need more time to digest the
unexpected news.  I've liked you since our first meeting.  I enjoy your
company.  The prospect of having you as a friend pleased me
enormously.  But it's a big leap from friend to life partner.  Just grant
me some time to make up my mind.  Okay?"
    "Of course.  I'm disappointed because, as I said before, I'm ready.
However, I recognize the position I've put you in and I appreciate your
candor in expressing your feelings.  I must also say--again--that I hope
we might be partners.  If not partners, then good friends.  I hope
we can continue to explore our compatability.  If you--or either of us--
decide that it's not the right choice, I still want to be your friend."
    "Absolutely.  I didn't mean to imply that the friendship would cease.
In fact, it's essential to helping me make up my mind.  And I should
add that, like you, I hope that it works out.  For both of us.  I just need
to--pardon me for being blunt--I need to be sure that a straight man
can make the necessary conversion.  I say that because having been
gay for a long time, I'm aware of potential problems that you may not
have considered.  Over time, we can discuss them and how you will
react to them.  But for now, let's proceed slowly until we're both
sure of living up to the commitments we must make to each other."
    "Agreed.  And can I add just one more observation?  It's startlingly
refeshing to talk to someone who isn't hiding something.  My clients,
my employees,  my business associates are not like that.  I'm
constantly analyzing and trying to guess what they are really thinking.
You're very up-front about it.  I respect that and try to follow your
example."
    "There you go again with the flattery!" he laughed.  "Keep it up,
though, I like it."
    "Following your example of honesty, I must confess that I'm
impatient to get into bed with you for our second lab exercise."
    He laughed heartily and said, "Somehow I knew that.  Let's go."
    In the bedroom, we both stripped off our own clothes without my
nervousness at being naked with him.  It would have surprised me
not that long ago but the sight of his bare body and the thoughts of
doing what I wanted to it...for him...was tremendously arousing.
    "Lay back," I said.  "I'll try to be as good to you as you were to
me although it won't be as masterful."
    "You're sure you want to do this?" he asked.
    "Never more sure of anything."
    "Remember, I warned you that giving gay sex is not the same
as receiving it."
    "There's a verse in the Bible that I recall from being a child in Sunday
School.  I hope it's not sacreligious but it's more blessed to give than
to receive.  I'm about to find out, aren't I?"
    Not knowing any more about gay sex than what Jim had showed me,
I tried to duplicate his actions.  At first, I didn't know how I would react
to administering sex to another man.  Jim had warned me that it was
different than receiving it but I found that, in its own way, it was just as
pleasurable.  I'll admit to hesitating before putting my tongue on his
balls and cock but once I did, his moans told me that he enjoyed it.
That was enough to encourage me to complete the task.  I could get
only part of his cock in my mouth but I tried to duplicate his stroking
and sucking.  In spite of my novice status, Jim approached orgasm
within a seemingly short time.  He warned me and told me I didn't
have to swallow his cum but, having made the transition to cocksucker,
I was determined experience it all.
    He didn't moan as loudly as I had but he stiffened and I felt several
blasts of hot cum hit the roof of my mouth and the back of my throat.
The force of it surprised me.  I momentarily gagged and let some of
the salty cream spill out over the base of his cock and into his thick
bush of hair.  After the first bursts, the cum seem to continue dribbling
out so I sucked and licked until he pushed my head away saying that
his cock was getting too sensitive.
    I snuggled up beside him and found that I enjoyed the contact
between our naked bodies.  I found myself hoping that it was just the
first of many times we would lie together in bed.
    After a few minutes, Jim turned to me and said, "That was good.
Very good.  What did you think about it?"
    "I enjoyed it.  To tell the truth, I was nervous.  I was afraid that I
would make a stupid mistake.  I wanted more than anything to give
you pleasure but after a little while, I was surprised to find that I was
getting pleasure out of it myself.  And you came so I guess I did
something right."
    "More than something.  Nearly everything.  So tell me.  What do
you think of gay sex now?"
    "I like it.  I really do.  But I'm sure it's because I'm with you.  Obviously,
I enjoyed it when you did it to me but I was happy to be able to do it to
you."
    "It doesn't bother you to be a cocksucker?"
    "No.  I suppose there are those who suck cocks just for the thrill of
it or perhaps for cash but that's another species.  Sucking the cock of
somebody to give them pleasure has its own rewards."
    "Carefull, Brad.  You're forgetting that this is just an experiment to
show you what gay sex is like and to see whether you like it."
    "Well, the results of the experiment are in.  I know what it's like and
I would like to do it again and again."
    "So tell me, if I can risk one more probing question.  How would you
compare gay sex with straight sex.  You've experienced both now.
Which do you really prefer?"
    "That requires some thought.  Give me a minute." I said.  "Both are
satisfying.  And for me to say that, I think, is significant because I had
real nagging doubts about whether I would like gay sex.  Which is
better?  I'm not prepared to say.  After all, I've only had two gay
encounters."  Grinning and cocking my eyebrows, I concluded with,
"I think I need several more experiences before I can compare the
two fairly."
    "Clever answer," he responded with a smile.  "Your place or mine?"
    "Both!  As often and for as long as you're willing to teach me."
    For the next six weeks, Jim and I saw a lot of each other.  Most of
the time was a dinner, movie, playing tennis or golf, or nursing a few
drinks at our favorite watering hole.  Some of the time, however, was
in his bed or mine, overnight on a few occasions.  Our friendship
deepened as we learned more about each other's background,
interests, problems, and successes.  Our love-making, usually
about twice a week, grew more satisfying as we learned (I had far
more to learn.) the subtle ways to maximize the other's pleasure.
I also learned, in discussions with Jim, a lot about what it's like to
live as a gay man in a society that condemns the behavior, how to
handle many of the difficult situations that arise, and how to avoid
those situations.  I had an excellent teacher.
    Midway through that six-week period--call it a courtship if you like--
I asked Jim about anal sex and why he hadn't included it in my
indoctrination.  "Hah!" he exclaimed.  "That's one more thing you
don't know about me.  I have several idiosyncracies.  One of them
is that I regard anal sex as the ultimate expression of one's
commitment.  Cuddling, fondling, mutual masturbation, even
blow jobs are great but they are just the preliminaries.  To me,
anal sex is the consumation of a bonding between two men.  Don't
tell me that's irrational.  I already know that it is.  But I just prefer
to equate it with intercourse between a man and a woman on
their wedding night.  It symbolizes to me the final, lasting promise
of fidelity."
    I let the subject drop with a simple, "Okay."
    He responded with a question of his own.  "I asked you some
time ago how straight you were.  I'm going to turn that around now
and ask how gay are you."
    It took me by surprise.  I had given it considerable thought since
our first visit to the lodge but my conclusions were still fuzzy.  "I really
don't know, Jim, but let me answer by telling you what I do know.
First and foremost, I know I love you.  By any and every definition
of love that I can think of.  If gay means loving another man, then
I'm gay.  But by learning from you about what it really means to be
gay, I'm much less certain.  When I see an attractive woman, I
admire her beauty and, to be frank, I sometimes wonder what it
would be like to bed her.  When I see a good-looking man, I have
similar thoughts but that has been a very recent reaction.  If being
a bonafide gay requires beting turned on by men only, then I come
up lacking.  However, as I said, that is gradually changing.  As for
gay sex--and let me assure you that I recognize it as just one part
of a meaningful gay relationship--I've found that it is at least as
satisfying as hetero sex.  The biggest reason that I now enjoy
gay sex is because it's with you...it's because it's an expression
of something more substantial--love.  If all of that sounds corny
or ambiguous, I apologize but there's no simple answer to your
question."
     He continued looking at me, no doubt processing both what
I said and other cues to what I thought.  Finally, without saying
anything, he responded in a way that made me feel he understood.
He leaned over and kissed me passionately.
    One morning, after a disappointly rare sleepover, I said to Jim,
"I want to thank you again for the enlightenment about gay sex, for
your friendship, and for your patience while I was learning."
    "Patience?" he remarked.  "You're the one who's been patient
waiting for me to make up my mind.  Well I'm not going to try your
patience any longer.  I've decided that, if you're still willing, that
I'd like to live together as partners.  You've convinced me that you
have the qualities I want in a partner and I'm confident that you
have successfully navigated the transformation from straight to
gay.  I suppose this is a proposal.  Will you be my mate?"
    "Without a sliver of a doubt I will.  I'm honored to be your partner,
your friend, your lover, and your very very happy companion until
death do us part."
    "Then I have something for you," he said before getting out of
bed, reaching into the pocket of his pants that hung from a bedside
chair, and retrieving a small jewelry box.  He opened it and withdrew
a gold band.  As he slipped it on my finger, he said, "With this ring,
I thee wed.  For now and evermore."  He then gave me a passionate
kiss in which our tongues danced with each other.
    I was ecstatic.  The man I loved more deeply every day had
accepted me and, in effect, promised that we would stay together
as a loving couple.  However, a thought flashed through my mind.
"That's very sweet.  You've made me very happy.  But I didn't
expect it so I don't have a ring for you."
    "I knew it would be a surprise," he said.  "So I took the liberty of
getting two."  He then fetched another jewelry box from his pants
pocket and handed it to me.  I removed it and he said, "Look at the
inscription inside."
    I read it aloud.  "Brad Jim - forever."
    "Yours says the same," he said.
    I slipped the ring on his finger and said, "With this ring, I give you
my heart, my mind, my unending loyalty, and if it comes to it, my life."
He grinned at my choice of words.  I grinned back and said, "It's
official!  We're a couple!"
    "Not so fast, my love," he said.  "We're not a couple yet."  I was
confused and no doubt showed my puzzlement.  "We still have to
consummate our bond.  First, we have to have a celebratory dinner
tonight.  After dinner, we'll come back here for the ultimate expression
of our love and comittment to each other."
    I knew immediately that he was planning anal sex.
    "May I suggest an alternate plan?  Dinner tonight sounds wonderful
but I'm ready to accept you into me right now."
    "What?  Are you afraid I'll change my mind between now and tonight?
Trust me.  I won't.   And the anticipation will make it that much better.
For both of us."
    "One of the first things I learned from you is to trust you.  We'll do it
your way."
    That night, with an astonishing degree of tender compassion, Jim
led me into his bedroom and sat me on the edge of his bed.  He sat
next to me and asked, "Are you absolutely sure that you want to give
up being an acceptable straight man and become a gay man?"
    "If it means sharing my life with someone I've grown to love...that's
you...then the answer is a definite yes."
    Jim smiled and began to remove my clothes, synchronizing his
efforts as he had done the first time in the lodge, by removing items
of his own clothes as mine came off.
    He laid me down on my back, kneeled between my legs, and
placed two pillows under my hips.  He asked me to place my legs
on his shoulders.  Before beginning the ritual mating, he said that
he would go slowly and that I should tell him if I felt any discomfort.
    As he prepared me to receive him, he alternated explaining what
he was about to do with saying how much he had looked forward to
sealing our union.  Because he told me what to expect, I had no
apprehension when I felt a lubed finger delve into my ass.  Because
he was so very careful, I felt no pain when a second finger slipped in.
Because he knew exactly what to do, the sensations were
extraordinarily erotic and arousing, especially when he stimulated
my prostate.  If I had any lingering doubts about why gay men
engaged in anal sex, they were quickly and permanently dispelled
as my pleasure steadily increased.
    When his third finger slipped through the ring of my hole, I was
nearly delerious from the sensations that radiated through my body
and my mind.  Quite apart from the purely physical sensations, I was
overwhelmed with the symbolism of confirming our dedication to a
lasting, loving relationship.
    With no further explanation from Jim, I could tell that he had
withdrawn in fingers and was slowly inserting his cock.  He slipped
in gradually, painlessly, until I could feel his pubic hair against my
balls.  He stayed imbedded for a moment and then began a slow
in and out motion that, over time, increased in its pace.  Where he
had been watching me before to monitor my reactions, his eyes
were now closed.
   I could have gone on much longer, relishing the pleasures and
recognizing what Jim felt was the momentous significance of his
actions but, with one final thrust into me, he froze and filled me with
his seed.
    With his cock still imbedded in me, he leaned over and kissed
me.  We then snuggled together, totally happy and content, for
quite some time and reaffirmed our mutual love and devotion to
each other,
    Then, it was time for me to complete the ritual.  He positioned
himself on his back with his legs on my shoulders.  With a little
coaching from Jim, I was able to relax his hole and slip my cock
into him.  As I began thrusting in and out, I could tell that he was
periodically flexing his sphincter, which added significantly to the
sensations that were enveloping me.  I couldn't last very long and
deposited my seed in his bowels.

Epilog

     Through some admittedly cursory research,  I found that a
surprising number of men transitioned from straight to gay
but it seems that in nearly every instance their straight lives
were in some degree a sham; they had been concealing their
interests by conforming to societal expectations.  But I have yet
to find a case like my own--a man that initially felt absolutely no
attraction to men or to gay sex (beyond adolescent experimentation)
and who then fell in love with another man and who learned the
sublime satisfaction that derives from both a committed relationship
and the gay sex that gives it added meaning.
    Jim and I have been together for five glorious years.  Our love
for each other grows stronger all the time.  I sometimes think back
to my straight life and become more convinced that my conversion
from straight to gay was the best thing that ever happened to me.