I don’t know why I am so attracted to older men, but I am. I met a man online about six years ago. He’s 13 years older than me. We are both “straight” married guys only looking for a friend with benefit situation. I’ve had lots of hook ups with other straight married men. They were almost always fun. Things went differently this time. After our first meeting we decided that things went well and we could indeed have a friends with benefits situation. As time went on we seem to hit it off more and more. I don’t remember when it happened but we both started using the word “love”. That’s not supposed to happen. We were only intending to be friends with benefits. It’s going on six years we are both head over heels and love and admit to ourselves that we’ve always been gay. He’s still married but I’m separated. We are in a very precarious situation But committed to somehow making it work. I’ve always been attracted to older men and now I’m in love with one. JoE
Here’s what always being gay or homosexual or just who I am meant to me last night, April 16, 2025, between the hours of 8:30 pm and 1 pm. It meant sitting in a gay bar with a great vibe and good music, good beer, and a cruising area with rooms and beds with my new friend and much needed guide to gay life in Austria. It meant being able to pull down my friend’s trousers under the table as we sipped our beer, run my nails down his thigh, and feel him get hard and wet as I dug my nails in deeper, pulled back his underpants, and stroked the top of his oozing penis with the ball of my finger under his foreskin. It meant sucking his toes as the cute waiter brought us each another beer while my friend unzipped me and played with my cock, which was easy to do because I wasn’t wearing underpants, while we wondered when more men like us would arrive. It meant deciding to go have a look at the dark cruising corridors and rooms with various kinds of porn playing on monitors and finding a big, older man sitting in one cubicle looking lonely, until I unbuttoned his shirt so that I could stroke his hairy chest and fondle his nipples while my friend pulled down his pants and sucked his cock, taking turns with me to make him ooze until he came. It meant finding a room and a bed where we could fuck next to a couple already loudly fucking in a space with a sling right next to us and have the old man of a few minutes ago find us and play with my balls and stick his finger up my bum while I fucked my friend. It meant taking a break for another beer and making friends with the couple who were fucking next door to us and having a long friendly chat before we went, the four of us, to share partners and fuck in the room where we first met. It meant loving to hear the younger of our new acquaintances, who was a little uncomfortable that his “daddy” was fucking my friend with his enormous cock and making him cry out loudly, that’s how huge the cock was that was being thrust vigorously inside my friend, finally submit to me, getting hard and groaning and spreading his legs wider and wider as I sucked his balls and lovely penis and got him to spurt his delicious cum in my mouth.
It meant feeling, all evening and as soon as I woke up today, THIS IS ME!
I love being this gay-homosexual-whateverIam person and being able to share that feeling, if only for an evening, with men like me. And I still got hard this morning, remembering what that felt like and will feel like again, the next time I can take off my clothes and be with a man, a man just like me.
During a general conversation, an openly homosexual friend mentioned having been born gay, unfortunately. Although he quickly corrected himself, his Freudian slip of “unfortunately” is troubling. Personally, I am glad to have been born gay. If reincarnation is a reality, I hope that I come back as a homosexual man in my next life. Out of curiosity, I once did a past-life visualisation exercise through which I saw images of myself as a Roman solider who was in a homosexual relationship with a fellow solider. If I were to come back again, I am not that bothered about which ethnicity or nation becomes my new home, as long as I am consciously aware and able to express my homosexuality (obviously, I’d rather avoid one of the countries or cultures where homosexuality is still criminalised or actively repressed). I can’t imagine my life without the pleasure of sex with other men. Meanwhile, my friend’s Freudian slip calls for some deep self-analysis!