Chapter Eighteen ~ first times are always the hardest

My conviction and imprisonment was for downloading and possessing images from the internet, but my need, being part of the unattainable, had started some thirty years before; as we have already explored. The internet didn’t exist them of course but as technology developed it made the life choices I had made so much easier to accommodate.

To put some perspective on things, my early collecting of the novelty newspaper’s titillating bums and boobs during my pubescent years had quickly moved onto legitimate ‘part work’ magazines with animals had been the most obvious subject matter, mainly for my zoological interests. Another set of magazines on the history and development of humanity also managed to supply enough naked fun, both legitimate and covert. By putting the beautifully crafted cover pictures up on my bedroom wall, I was faking an acceptable art form while behind many of them were secreted other far more graphic items extracted from the inner pages. All forms of mating, fighting, and birthing fed my excesses, each adding to my body of knowledge of the world, or at least the specific bits of it I was interested in. The hidden collection was eventually revealed by a well-meant spring clean but not openly questioned. As time moved on, a copy of the desperately illicit Lady Chatterley did something to expand my horizons. At least when that item was discovered under my mattress I could at least appear to be what I thought the general perception of normal was.

Much to my great disappointment, once I had realised it existed I had no way of getting gay related information without the risk of blowing my cover that is. I didn’t get my first piece of mainstream literature, a copy of Gay Times, until after I was married. Perhaps if I had managed it before, I would never have gone down that route at all; who knew?

It was the whole ‘normal’ business of courtship and eventually marriage which curtailed my previous rather extensive activity in favour of the quest of fulfilling the meaning and acceptability of a modal heterosexual life. For many unrelated and generally misunderstood reasons, I had decided that perhaps the majority vote was the right one; ultimately, I knew I was just too cowardly to go against it. If it had not been so public an event, I might not have, but whatever conflicts I had were boxed away for a while and the job of being a husband somehow managed to satisfy many of my issues around being valued and useful, which I thought I did a respectable job most of the time; even if I say so myself.

I had always wanted children, I loved them; I still do. To kill off the obvious questions and incorrect answers which everyone will have at this point; NO, I am not sexually attracted to children; NO, I have no bizarre or deviant interest in them; NO I have never broken the invisible moral barrier; other than collecting some of the images I did of course but for the simple beauty which youth holds. Knowing the difficulty in separating the two aspects of the matter, it is a subject where I know there will be little chance of me ever having a fair hearing or any acceptable resolution so, I will move on; comfortable for at least being honest with myself.

In my marriage, with my vivid imagination plus a bucket full of something that came very close to being empathy, I did all the husbandly things I thought needed to be done. All I couldn’t seem to do was produce children. After several years of trying, plus all the difficulties and pressures of a range of medical investigations, it all proved to have a rather sad and adverse effect on both of us. It is possibly then when I began to slip once more down the slippery slope to what was perhaps my more natural level, as the feelings of inadequacy and failure became too difficult to share, or resolve. If not that, I am sure it would have been something else eventually but, on the upside, we did eventually adopt two beautiful boys and despite my calamitous behaviour, one of them at least is still close to me.

Being honest about it, I had never stopped my discrete voyeurism, but I had abandoned all the other activity. Despite resisting most of the temptations from having engineered free time, some of my locked boxes were opened just a tiny crack and often this sliver of hope or expectation was more difficult to contemplate than having things either fully exposed or shut tight away.

Although we had agreed time for ourselves, it should have meant time together; instead it developed into time apart. A void was starting to open up and I did nothing to try to fill it.

As I had always gone out for a drink one night a week anyway, I didn’t complain about however many nights she now wanted, to get away from things and get whatever support she needed that I was so painfully incapable of supplying. Inside this unexpected freedom, I should say with some degree of restraint, I reverted to earlier life and started to do the things teenagers must have done since time immemorial; not that it was any excuse. Although I was long past that age group I found myself now buying dirty magazines, wanking myself stupid and dreaming of all the things which would never be. Disingenuously, I think I managed to convince myself I was just a very late starter but never did let any other considerations stop me. Somehow, I hoped such indulgence and release might make me a better, calmer, and more considerate husband; and of course, pigs might have flown.

Inside this gross self-delusion, it took me ages to pluck up the courage to buy my first copy of any gay specific magazine; for whatever reason, that top shelf had always been just too high for me to reach, metaphorically of course. Eventually it happened and once the barrier had been breached it was more easily repeated although the most I ever got at that time were four editions. These were safely hidden in my private draw in the bedroom and as far as I know, just like it had been at home, never discovered.

Reading about things was great but looking at the pictures was better and to some degree replaced much of my desire for other activity. My interests and confidence strengthened. Late nights alone in bed with no chance of comfort I would occasionally call some of the numbers in the personal ad’s and listen to the recorded messages for ‘men seeking men’. Of course, I didn’t leave any reply or take further action, not until I had left the marital home that is but it was just other missing link I could now find perhaps. The next phase came eventually, as I expected it must.

Having taken myself off on yet another pretence of a shopping trip, I was really cruising around the city’s busy shopping centre to take in the human sights and indulge my fantasy with so many of the male attractions. Having only ever spent time looking, the first sign of any interest being shown in return would have me running for the hills; well the car park anyway. Having had made several attempts to get the latest magazine I was probably in my third shop by then. This last one appeared to be quiet enough, for long enough, to allow me to get a copy down off the shelf and over to the check out without any undue attention. This was helped by a suitably dim-witted assistant who would have been incapable of formulating an adverse opinion until I was long out of the shop. The item was bought. Agreeing to ‘want a bag for that’, the question was always a bit of a challenge where silent sales were always the easiest, I made it out of the shop, shaken but safe.

It was my custom on these rare occasions to make my way out of public view before appraising my purchase; my prize. In the attempt to get down to the car park below the shops, I got caught up in an altercation between a teenage mother, her children and a pushchair which wasn’t going down the rather awkward curve of the stairs very easily. Stepping back so as not get involved, I was leaning against the wall trying to look intelligent but unhelpful when I voice appeared to one side of me.

“Anything good in the magazine this time?”

I was horrified. It was obviously me who was being addressed as I was on my own. The voice was hushed and conspiratorial which rather confirmed its intent. Gripping the brown bag tightly I tried to look around without being obvious; impossible I know. Why was this person talking to me? What did they want? What did they know? Why didn’t they just go away?

My troubled gaze eventually rested on a rather cute little face; even in times of distress I just couldn’t help myself could I. His rather obvious smile elicited an unintended and elongated stare which must have indicated some sort of interest on my part, I honestly wouldn’t have known.

“I saw you buy it, I can never pluck up the courage.”

Of course, I knew exactly what he meant and if he was genuine, surly I should know he was a possible safe-haven; this is precisely where I was lacking any of the interpersonal skills. All I could do was stammer some unintelligible muttering which sounded too loud for the occasion. Glancing round for anything to help me, I could see my escape route was still blocked. My brain was spinning but my legs didn’t seem to want to respond and they kept me right there in front of the boyish good looks. At the same time as all this panic, the other side of my physical process, the calmer side had taken time to process the vision properly and I could see he was quite attractive.

“Perhaps we could have a look at it together?”

“I don’t know, no, not here?”

My mouth was speaking my thoughts without me consciously processing them.

“Do you have anywhere we can go, do you have a car?”

“I don’t know,” realising just how my stupid my comment was, I nodded towards the still partially blocked stairwell, “yes, I do, it’s down there.”

“Come this way, there’s another way down, I’ll show you.”

The option he had suggested was obvious of course and what was equally patent was that I shouldn’t follow him; I found myself doing just what I shouldn’t. My brain switched onto auto pilot which allowed me to start calculating all the many eventualities this escapade would possibly end in. While the fog of the various and varied outcomes passed before my mind’s eye, we had made our way down the two flights of empty stairs. We reached the next point where I could easily have my escape; of course, I didn’t.

To one part of my head it was obvious I had settled on a course of action or at least the acceptance of an opportunity for sex of some description and it was this particular chain of thought led us to the car; I unlocked the driver’s door. Slipping easily into the driver’s seat, I let him into the passenger side; this was another opportunity missed to just drive off to safety. Now he was in I was at a complete loss. My imagination might have gotten me this far but what it was going to do next was a mystery, or, was I just in confused denial. As it turned out my accomplice knew full well what he was doing and I, once the occasion became obvious, put my brain into record mode and let it all happen.

From what I had learnt albeit in different circumstance, it seemed prudent to copy the other person’s actions as if in a mirror; as it had seemed to work in my married life, despite most of the working parts being different. What started to happen seemed to be as natural as I had dreamed it could be; considering I didn’t know what ‘natural’ was. OK, I had not been without some experience, college, farm life, school gossip, but this was now very much hands on, in full daylight and with a warm human being, and, now I had more time to consider him, a rather attractive young man.

He reached over easily to my groin with a good but still gentle squeeze, I pushed forward against his hand to make what he had found more obvious. My nerves hadn’t stopped nature doing its worst and he was soon finding it quite difficult to get the zipper of my jeans to slide down away from the tightening bulge behind it. In response, I had moved my attention to his corresponding hump and he reciprocated by spreading his legs giving me ample access to it. In the end, I had to deal with my own zip as I was not going to waste any more time. Once down, I left the monster for him to wrestle from its lair. A car starting up nearby made me jump and I was reminded just what we were doing and where we were doing it.

“Is this all OK, you know, down here?” my ineptitude was showing

“It’s all fine down here as far as I can see,” my rather ambiguous question was easy fodder for the smutty quip, “no, it’s fine, we’re well out-of-the-way over here.”

We were in the corner of the car park admittedly, well away from the main entrance and exit but I was still concerned; a little bit anyway and it seemed that was becoming less and less.

“OK, but if…”

I didn’t get to finish the warning as he bobbed down and sucked my still only semi erect member deftly into his mouth, the shock of it and the memories which it instantly dredged up drowned out any thought or worry about getting caught.

Trying my best to give some attention to his now freed appendage, I found I couldn’t concentrate on two things at once and selfishly settled for being toyed with instead. Although he had come up, presumably for breath and had settling for some rather rudimentary movements that couldn’t really be called masturbation, I still enjoyed the attention and the rapid progress towards a climax. My smile must have given me away and, although I was trying to indicate I was getting too close for comfort he didn’t seem to take the hint and took my twitching length deep into his mouth again. Knowing this was all too fast, I tried to get hold of his bobbing head away from its task, the intimate touch of his not soft attractive hair had the very opposite effect and I found myself pushing him further down rather than lifting him off. A few moments of coughing and spluttering didn’t remove the grin from the sweet smiling face once he surfaced. I couldn’t resist wiping a dribble of creamy liquid from his chin and he obligingly licked my thumb to recover it. With a tilt of his head as a question, it appeared to be my turn now. In all honesty, I had had enough at that point but my apparent reluctance must have been taken as inexperience for which I was disappointed, even if it was obviously true. It seemed share and share alike was only fair and in that spirit of fairness, I obliged the now expectant passenger.

Taking my cues from the last few minutes, I tried my best to replicate the event which had just played out. Having only ever been on the receiving end before, I hoped it might prove to be just as fantastic as I had dreamt. Unfortunately, I sensed something was not quite right. Perhaps it was the result of having already spent myself, or perhaps the chemical reactions which happen post ejaculation had calmed things down too much, whatever it was my brain wasn’t working and my mouth seemed to be failing to get the reaction I had imagined. Unlike my speedy and strident erection, this one was getting nowhere.

“Hold on a minute, let me get it going.”

He was obviously aware he was not performing and I was glad it was not totally my fault. I enjoyed watching his self-administered privation as much as I did when I wanked myself. I could feel a second rising here on my side of the car.

“Here, now, let’s go, quick.”

It was not the sensuous bold encouragement I had dreamed of. Even fully erect as it seemed to be, I was rather disappointed at the length and girth of the member which now presented itself. With still only limited comparison, I knew I was not too bad in the size department but had never objectively thought about other people’s reality and obviously, their differences. Blocking these rather counterproductive thoughts away, I managed to administer what I thought would be a good enough job; at least it had the same explosive result, eventually. As he pumped himself into my mouth as best he could in the confined space, my head was considering perhaps size wasn’t everything after all but here, it certainly might have made it a better first experience.

Now he was spent I was rather disappointed he couldn’t wait to get away. Despite the very public car park, I was erect and ready to let him have a second bite of my cherry but, he was done.

“Thanks, that was nice.”

Nice, just nice? Perhaps I hadn’t been as good as I thought I had. Taken aback somewhat I didn’t have time to think of a suitable reply and he was out of the car, closed the door, waved a single low discreet wave and was off, weaving his way between the other cars; and gone. All I could do was stare at the windscreen watching, hoping for just a quick look back, but no. A couple walked across the front of the car, arms laden with shopping bags and it struck me what it might have looked like if they had been there just five minutes before. A whirl of horror and hubris settled on me not helped by trying to tuck my still rigid trouser snake rather awkwardly and painfully back into its burrow. That one relatively successful event was the start of something much bigger and far more dangerous.

It must have somehow become obvious to others that I had attained some degree of experience as there were several other similar escapades around the shops with different people, men, and boys alike. In fact, the very many chances and regular successes started to fill one corner of a great void in my life and the taste of it, literally the taste, fuelled fervour for much more.

The confirmation that there were people out there who wanted to take part in anonymous sexual encounters was a revelation. Being honest, it was rather seedy and in the early stages often unsatisfactory. Despite all that, it was a learning curve I was prepared to climb if it continued supplying me the information and hope which I was increasing desperate for.

Repeat offenders, I mean encounters seemed to be a good option as there was time to practice and build on mutual experience but it wasn’t always possible. Cold stair wells and windy car park roof tops were not the palaces of pleasure I had dreamed of, but despite these minor disappointments, I never wanted to go to the next stage of going to anyone’s home or other private places again if I could help it. Although I did get pleasure from these short bursts of activity, it still didn’t give me what I wanted. There was more to it and was out there somewhere waiting to be taken.

None of this new activity came at any obvious expense for anything else in my life, but I did find myself making more effort in general day-to-day married life which seemed to create other opportunities in this specifically more personal area. If anything, the attention I paid my public face became perhaps rather too exaggerated although with care, I thought I managed to create what I considered was a suitable balance; with the hope no one would get hurt in the diverse process. How naive can anyone be?

My more devious side had convinced itself that, because I had not been with other women, I wasn’t being unfaithful, obviously; history and the more realistic world would judge me rather differently. The same history had yet to deal with my whole ‘coming out’ episode but I will elaborate on that later.

Reality would find me lost between two worlds where extremes of pleasure and pain gave me something, but neither made me truly happy. Continually searching for answers which were most likely not there to be found, it was the happiness that was all I wanted so where on this twisted and troubled world could I find it. The extramarital activity, although slowly becoming less, was stemmed completely for a time when I moved the whole family to a shop which we bought although it only created a fresh facet to my complex affliction; this to be explored another time.


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