Maybe I am That Way

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I will always remember the day my life changed. Was it for the better? I’ll let you readers decide for me. That may seem odd but let me explain. I have learned, since meeting Michael, that I am to leave decision making to real men, real men or my wife. I have been taught that I should not be allowed to think for myself.

My life changed when I agreed to escort my wife to the Hanger Club. She had been hearing about the all-nude male review from her girlfriends and pestered me non-stop until I finally caved in.

My wife Cindy is a wonder woman. I’m not fooling myself about why she married me. I took her from her job behind the lunch counter where she used to work and moved her into a life of upper middleclass luxury. Cindy is a 5’11’ tall natural blonde. She has an hour glass figure with large firm breasts and a sexy round ass.

I knew at once she was out of my class. I’m John. I am 5′ 5″ short. Yes, that was no typo. I weigh about 140 soaking wet. I’m a small guy in all departments. My dick is 4 1/2″ when stiff and my balls produce a watery substance incapable of impregnating anything other than my own hand. My hips are wider than my shoulders plus my behind is too wide and too round to be considered masculine. Nothing about me suggests I am anything more than some book smart dork.

I have thinning blonde hair, which was getting thinner by the day when I first met her. She said that’s what attracted her to me. We’re both blondes. She pushed passed a fat co-worker to wait on me. Her smile and friendly ways led me to take my lunches in the dive she worked in.

My job is that of an accountant. I work for a large IT firm that recruited me out of Harvard Business school upon completion of my MBA. They pay generously and the benefits are great.

I used my money to snag Cindy. I overwhelmed her with gifts of jewelry. I showered her with flowers. I took her shopping. I feted her with lavish meals at expensive restaurants. I bought her a brand new Corvette. And I moved her from the one room apartment to my penthouse Condo complete with doorman, pool, gym and sauna.

From that start everyone I knew was impressed with my catch. Impressed but not fooled. They all knew that Cindy saw me as her way up the social ladder and out of skid row housing.

When she moved in with me, almost at once the flirting began. Big men and suggestive comments followed with insinuations questioning my manhood whispered in her ear. Hearing them suggest that I was “that way”, she would giggle and sometimes even playfully hit whomever was trying to put the moves on her but always, and I mean always Cindy left with me.

I knew it must have been a great sacrifice for her. Our love making wouldn’t exactly register on the Richter Scale. A small dick with premature ejaculation equals frustration for a woman. I knew it could only be a matter of time when Cindy would yield to the promise of an orgasm only a big cock can give. She would I know, one day succumb to some man whose attempts to talk her out of her panties and into his bed she would no longer resist.

Even my own father suggested to me when he and mother first met her that I’d better watch her close. “Someone is going to put a baby in that fine bitch,” father warned. “It may as well be me son.” I hoped he didn’t mean that. I grew up knowing he thought of me more as a daughter than a son.

Father is a big man. He loves watching football and UFC matches. I’ve always been a source of great disappointment for him. Mother told me that it was when I was five and wanted to dress up as Wonder Woman for Halloween that father was convinced I was gay. Mother accommodated me and Wonder Woman I was.

“That little homo will be cross dressing one day,” father warned mother.

I never played sports. I just wasn’t interested in them. I spent my time reading and initially decided I was going to be a fashion designer. Mother talked me out of that. “Your father would kill either you or himself John.”

Small and weak, I protected myself through the horrors of high school by doing homework for the bullies and donating my lunch money to some hungry thug whose job it was to terrorize me that day.

Those efforts didn’t prevent the occasional ass kicking I’d get though. By the time I reached 12th grade the tough guys tired of tormenting me. All I had to do was give up my lunch money and let them borrow the car mother insisted father buy me. Walking home from school was a small price to pay to avoid getting beat up.

I didn’t encounter any of that when I left home for Harvard. Yes, there were the gay guys who would hit on me whenever I wandered off campus. Even on the quad I’d get a butt squeeze from some old professor who’d invite me back to his flat.

Being lonely, except for the tough guys who used to hassle me, I liked the attention I was getting. At least it was positive attention.

But I never gave in. I never surrendered to the many indecent propositions I received. I mean I could have I guess. Lots of guys explore their sexuality ikitelli escort at that age. I wasn’t inclined that way though. It wasn’t that it didn’t turn me on just a tad, but mother had warned me about what she called, “those types”.

I wouldn’t say Cindy abused my generosity. She did like to shop. It made her happy and I liked it when she was happy. I’d even moved my clothes out of the master bedroom into the closet in the guest bedroom so she could have more space. More space for skirts, dresses, blouses, shoes, and lingerie.

So, the day I told her I’d take her to the Hanger Club, she had plenty of outfits from which to choose.

I was wearing my dark brown corduroy pants and a white shirt.

Cindy was wearing a severely low-cut blouse which showed lots of cleavage. The skirt wasn’t any more discrete either. Ending 5″ above the knee, I knew that had we been going anywhere but to a nude male review my wife would have had to fend off many a flirtatious advance. But at this club, I assumed men would be scarce or not interested in women anyway.

Cindy, insisting we get there before the 8 PM show began, made sure we arrived at 7:45 PM. The line was long filled with excited women. I realized I was right. The only other guys there were like me. “Oh don’t fret honey. Real men would never be caught dead at a show like this,” my wife informed me.

The robust black man who was on the door smiled at Cindy as we passed him. He handed her something and told her to give it to the man inside. I later learned that he’d given us a front row table for two. Right up close to the stage.

Excited chatter filled the dimly lit room as people were seated and drink orders were filled by sexy female servers.

At 8 sharp the lights flickered. The room grew quiet. From somewhere behind us an announcer loudly asked, “Ladies. Are you ready to rumble?”

The screaming and cheering were deafening. Even my wife cheered.

Loud thumping music filled the room and my head. The bass so pronounced I could feel it in my chest.

Then the lights went completely dark. The music got louder. The anticipation was building to a crescendo when the lights suddenly came on again and three large, well-built men marched up to the edge of the stage.

Tux shirts, shiny trousers, white, black and brown men moved and gyrated to the music. The ladies were going crazy; my wife included.

First the shirts went. Big barrel chested, cleanly shaved pecs, women going ape shit nuts.

Trousers were torn off and tossed to the rear of the stage. Panties were tossed from the audience to the front of the stage.

Well filled satin G-strings bulged with promises. I could only stare and envy what must be behind the tight material. Black satin on the white man. Red satin on the black man. Green satin on the Latin man.

They danced and gyrated so close I could almost reach out and touch them… not that I would. I’m not that way.

My wife had a death grip on my arm. My lips were dry, my mouth parched. I watched those men, those well-built handsome men turn and show us their tight, sexy asses.

My little dick grew in my corduroys. For some reason I found all this terribly exciting. I was transfixed on those pouches wondering, waiting, breathing hard.

All at once the men tore their G-strings off and tossed them to the crowd. My wife caught the red one and twirled it triumphantly over her head. I was dimly aware of the scrum for the other pieces of satin being fought over.

Cocks. Manly cocks, large, so much larger than my own pathetic excuse. Hanging, swinging back and forth in hypnotic rhythm. Balls, hairless, large, beautiful swayed, filled with, I was sure, potent baby making sperm. Thick, white, nectar of the Gods filled those orbs.

The black man made eye contact with Cindy, then me. He winked. I smiled. Cindy groaned and reached for his staff. He pulled back, teasing her, teasing me. I wanted to reach for him myself. Wanted to touch his magnificent tool. I wanted to own it, make it mine. I was lost in that big black swinging, swaying cock.

From the corner of my eye I saw Cindy writing something on something. When she finished and tossed her panties onto the stage at the black dancer, I realized what she had been doing. I was shocked at her behavior. I was almost jealous that I had no panties of my own to toss.

Ladies rushed the stage, my wife stood with them. Reaching hands grabbed cocks. Hands with wedding rings cradled beautiful hairless balls. Lips made contact, quick kisses on big cocks. I licked my lips and reached for my little erection. My hand was in my pocket stroking softly as I saw women’s bobbing heads and large, handsome, naked, and smiling men.

Our eyes met. The black man was looking right at me. Right through me as if he could read my thoughts, my wants, my needs. I blushed and looked away only to look back a few seconds later. He smiled. White teeth behind wonderfully full lips.

My dark istanbul escort Adonis pulled away from the woman sucking him. He looked down indicating he wanted me to follow his gaze. His cock was hard, tall, proud, so very masculine.

I looked in wonder and building arousal. He touched himself there, holding it, pointing it at me. At me. I made eye contact with him. An unspoken understanding was reached. My heart felt like it would burst from my chest cavity. My face was flushed and sweaty. My pulse raced. I nodded.

The music ended, the dancers left the stage, and another song started. More large men. More ladies screaming.

From somewhere and I don’t exactly know where, my black man joined my wife and I. He pulled a vacated chair from a nearby table and moved between Cindy and I.

His short robe was like one a boxer would wear. Satin, mid-thigh, black with red sash.

I noticed his arms were shaved like the rest of him. His dark chocolate skin glistened in the light. His baritone voice penetrated the music and my brain as he introduced himself as Michael.

He had his left arm around my wife’s shoulders and she leaned against this large handsome man and they whispered to each other.

Michael looked at me and smiled. Taking something out of his pocket, I watched him lay my wife’s panties on the small table. “You might need these back,” he said to me.

“Those are hers. I don’t wear panties.” I was mortified that he would think they were mine.

“Shame. You’d look good in them.”

My wife giggled hearing what Michael said.

“Take this,” he said handing her his card. “I do private sessions if you’re interested.”

“We are Michael. We really are,” Cindy gushed.

When he was gone I asked her if she was out of her mind. “We are in no way interested in a private session Cindy. Why would you say that to him?”

“Listen Buster. I saw the way you were staring at those guys. Those guys and their cocks. You know you want to see it up close and personal same as me.”

“No way Cindy. I’m that way.”

“What way?”


She raised her eye brows and smirked. “Let’s go home.”

Later that night when we were in bed, Cindy cuddled up against me. She reached into my pajama bottoms for my dick.

“Please Cindy. Let’s just go to sleep.”

“I can’t sleep John. I keep thinking about Michael and his huge cock.”

My dick responded to her stroking or was it the thought of that beautiful black behemoth between Michael’s legs.

“Someone else can’t sleep,” Cin teased as she felt me grow stiff. “You got hard thinking about his cock too, didn’t you?”

“I got hard because you’re playing with it.”

“Uh huh. Maybe you want to see him put it in me.”

I came. I can’t help my premature ejaculations but this was even quick for me.

“Ha. Admit it John. You came thinking about that big cock in my pussy. Fuck it. Even if you don’t admit it, we both know it’s the truth.”

Cindy wiped her watery sperm covered hand on my pajama top turned over. I thought she was going to sleep but I could feel the bed moving as she frigged herself. She too, came quickly, a long and satisfied sigh escaping from her just before I nodded off.

I was cleaning up around the house the next day when I saw my wife’s panties on the floor by the coat closet. I picked them up to see what she had written. She had given Michael our phone number. Then in different penmanship I saw that he had written his own number down before returning her panties.

I sat at the kitchen table with my coffee thinking about the previous night and still looking at the writing on the panties. Cindy had left Michael’s card on the counter next to the red G-string she caught which I lay on the table beside her underwear.

The card was interesting. Well done. It had a black silhouette of a man with a big erection, his hands behind his head, his hips thrust forward. “Let me Entertain You”, was written to the left of the figure with his phone number under that, and below that his email address, and a web site under that.

Looking at that card, something stirred in me. I couldn’t tell you what that was but it scared me. I wasn’t like that. I could never be like that. No matter what father thought of me, I’m not that way.

I picked up the G-string and without thinking, brought it to my nose. It smelled of sweat and musk. I quickly put it down, finished my coffee, and went to take a cold shower.

Cindy woke up around noon and was wearing her robe when she emerged from the bedroom. Kissing me on my cheek, she poured herself a cup of coffee and sat at the counter. I watched as she picked up Michael’s G-string. She held that in one hand while looking at his card. “Very nice John. Damn but his cock is big.”

I said nothing. I knew I failed her in the cock department.

“I would love to feel that in me one day, husband of mine. Not that I don’t love you, I do. But a woman has her needs.”

“I know Cindy. I’m sorry kadıköy escort I can’t fill that void.”

“Was that a double entendre`?”


“Never mind. I just, one day would like to feel like a well fucked woman.”

No other words were spoken about that or Michael for most of the day.

Over dinner Cindy brought it up. “We just have to go back John. We must.”

“Back where,” I said feigning I didn’t know what she was talking about.

“The Hanger Club silly. Can we go tonight? Please. Can We?”

No amount of me saying no would deter her.

I relented I guess out of love for my wife and my seeing Michael again well… Why not. “Yes dear. We’ll go after we finish eating.”

My wife finished her meal in record time and hurried me out to the car.

The Hanger Club was crowded as it was the previous night. Once again, the large bouncer said something to the man inside and once again, we were at a stage-side table.

The music was the same loud thumping bass filling one’s body and soul. Drinks were ordered and served and the anxious women were getting impatient.

The lights went dark, the music louder. “Are you ladies ready to rumble?” further ignited the crowd. Then the lights returned and there they were. The same large, handsome, well-built men in tux shirts and shiny trousers.

The act was the same and I found myself getting excited about what I was about to see again.

The same sexy tight asses made the ladies scream. The G-strings torn off and tossed but this time Michael tossed his right at me. Without thinking, I caught it and held it in my hands feeling the warmth of his cock still in the soft material. Panties rained down on the stage as before but all I saw was Michael and his beautiful swinging cock and swaying balls.

“Oh my God,” Cindy said aloud. “You’re staring at Michael’s cock John. He threw you his thong and you kept it and are staring at his cock.”

She reached and placed her hand in my lap feeling the evidence of my arousal. “You’re hard. Oh my God, you want the same thing as I do. Tell me I’m wrong.”

I tried to say something but all I could do was stutter, “Um ah, I’m sorry.”

She just smiled a knowing grin and returned her attention to the naked men.

I did too.

Michael smiled at both of us and we waved to him.

A couple of numbers later and once again our new friend joined us at our table. “Hello again John and Cindy. Thought I’d see you here again.

“Nice moves Michael,” Cindy gushed.

“Don’t you mean nice cock,?” he smiled that toothy sexy smile.

“That too,” my wife said snuggling against him.

I could have been jealous that she was enamored with Michael but I understood her attraction to the large handsome and well hung man.

“What time do you finish tonight,?” I asked.

“2 AM. Why?”

“Well,” I said looking at Cindy. “We thought you might like to join us for a drink at our house.”

“Just a drink,?” Michael asked looking at Cin.

I saw my wife blush for the first time ever. “We’ll see,” was all she could come up with.

“Gotta get ready for the next set,” Michael said rising. “Leave your address with the doorman and I may just take you up on your offer.”

Then he leaned down and kissed my wife on her lips. It wasn’t a long kiss, but it wasn’t a short one either. I knew that if Michael showed up later, that my wife would probably get what she’s been wanting.

On the way home I tuned out Cindy’s excitement as I pondered what may be happening later.

On one hand I wouldn’t mind seeing that handsome stud put his beautiful cock in my wife, but what would that make me? And would one time be enough for her? Would I lose my wife to a man with a cock, albeit, a big black beautiful cock?

And what about my reactions of late? Did I want to see his cock or did I want more than just to look at it? I was torn up inside as we rode the elevator up to the penthouse.

“What should I wear for Michael’s visit,?” Cindy asked me as I poured myself a stiff one.

Still lost in my thoughts I was non-committal. “Wear whatever you want dear.”

I looked at the clock as my wife disappeared into the bedroom. It was 1:45 AM. I closed my eyes and thought back to seeing Michael on stage. “All those crazy ladies would be so fucking envious of Cindy right now,” I thought. “She’s going to fuck him and she deserves it.”

My thinking was making me hard.

I was still day dreaming when the doorman rang us up. “You’ve got a guest here sir. Says his name is Michael and you invited him at this hour.”

“Send him up William.”

“Yes sir.”

“Cin. Michael is on his way up. You ready to have a drink with him?”

When my wife appeared, her choice of outfit left no doubt in my mind that she was looking to get fucked this night. She had her dressing gown on, a flowing, silk, floor length, light pink gown that she didn’t bother closing. Under that gown Cindy was wearing expensive panties and matching bra. She wore light pink mules on her feet.

“Is this okay,? she asked.

“Jesus honey. Why not take out an ad in the paper that you want Michael to fuck you?”

Before she could answer there was a knock at the door. I went to greet out guest. “Michael, welcome to our humble abode.”

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