The Test

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There were about four dozen of us. Fifty men, all naked, all shapes and sizes, all ages, crowded into a room. Before entering we’d each been given a bi-colored capsule and a small paper cup of water. Now, thirty minutes later, the drug had taken effect and each of us had an erection. It was amazing to see. It was like driving down the highway and seeing a meadow off to the side, a meadow that had been empty the day before, and now it was filled with sprouting flowers.

The penises came in all shapes and sizes: short, long, thick, thin. Circumcised, uncut. I wondered what my wife would think if she could see me at this moment.

The man to my right kept looking down at me. At mine. He finally spoke: “You have a nice one. Nicely formed. Not too thick, not too thin. A nicely shaped head, too.”

I was embarrassed. I thanked him, not knowing what else to say. As I nervously looked away he reached out and took hold of my cock. I looked back–in shock.

“I don’t think you should do that,” I said.

The man was smiling. “Why not?”

“Touch each other. I don’t think they want that.”

“Well what do they want? And why are we here?”

“They didn’t explain that but I don’t think they want us touching each other.”

“They didn’t say we couldn’t.”

I thought about this for a second, running through my head the thin set of rules they’d given us. Come in here. Undress. Take this pill. Follow me. The man was right. No one had told us we couldn’t touch each other. But still…

“I think,” I offered, “it was implied.”

The man laughed at me. He was stroking me now, slowly. “It wouldn’t kill you to stroke me. I’m giving you pleasure, why not do the same for me?”

I glanced around the room’s four corners, at the ceiling. There were no visible cameras. Reluctantly, I reached out and put my hand around his cock. He had the kind that was thicker at the base than just behind his head. His cock wasn’t as long as mine and my hand covered this entire middle length. He had medium-brown pubic hair. Mine on the other hand was shaved. My wife said she liked me that way. We sometimes played dress-up games where I would dress in her underwear and she in mine. She would tie me up and whip me. In fact I wondered if the faded whip marks from our last session still showed. This only served to heighten my embarrassment.

“You istanbul travesti can stroke me,” the man urged. Adding, “Don’t worry. I’m a slow-cummer. You?”

I blanched. “I’m…pretty quick.”

“You married?”

“Yes.”

“To a woman?”

“Yes.”

“She mess around on you?”

I couldn’t believe we were having this intimate conversation. Less than an hour ago I’d never laid eyes on this guy before. “I…”

“I just say this ’cause you told me you’re a quick on the draw. That can lead to trouble.”

I heard myself say: “She’s had a couple of boyfriends.”

“You watch?”

“No.”

“Never?”

I shifted my weight. It was chilly in the room, despite all the body heat. “Once I did,” I admitted.

“Did you join in?”

“I watched.” Adding, “My hands were tied behind my back. I was wearing my wife’s panties. It was…a humiliation thing.”

“Stroke me faster,” the man requested. “But you only watched them once? Yourself being cuckolded?”

“Well…twice. A few times.”

“Tied up? Wearing your wife’s panties?”

“Yes.”

“Enjoy it?”

“I…did. I guess.”

“When’s the last time you watched?”

Others in the room had turned to look at us. Turned to watch us stroke each other. It was beyond weird. Each had an erection that was standing straight up. One or two of them began stroking themselves.

“My wife broke up with him,” I advised.

“Too bad, huh?”

“Yes,” I heard myself say. “I…guess.”

“Now she’s with somebody else?”

“Right now you mean?”

The man laughed again. “Well, yes. Maybe. But I meant in general. She’s taken a new lover?”

I nodded.

“But this one doesn’t let you watch.”

“No.” In a voice edged with panic I said, “You really need to slow down. Your hand, I mean.”

“Getting close?”

“I…”

“Just shoot it on the floor. On me, I don’t care.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“We’d get in trouble. It’s gross. Making a mess on their floor?”

“What do you think this is all about? This test.”

“I don’t know. The ad just said… ‘Men wanted. Some nudity may be required.”

“I’ll say!”

“My wife found the ad. She turned me on to it.”

“Your wife? She’s OK with you being naked with other men?”

“I…guess. In this case. For a test. It was her idea,” I repeated.

“You istanbul travestileri like being cuckolded?”

“I…want my wife to be happy. Satisfied.”

“And you can’t provide that,” the man said flatly.

“No. I…”

“How long have you been married?”

“Almost seven years. Total, I mean. We lived together for a couple of years first.”

“The seven year itch,” the man knowingly smiled. “You dress up in her underwear?”

I looked over at him. Blinked. “How did you know that?”

“It fits. Are you a bottom?”

“No. I mean…I would be, I guess.”

“Are you a virgin?”

I paused before replying, softly: “Yes. With the real thing? Yes. But my wife…sometimes she uses her dildo on me.”

“Do you like it?”

“I didn’t, at first. But now I do. It makes me feel…effeminate.”

“Effeminate?”

I nodded. “I dress up in her underwear…then she pulls my panties down and does me.”

“Ah,” declared the man. “When we’re done here how ’bout we go back to my apartment and you can bottom for me?” He paused, briefly. “Is my cock bigger than your wife’s dildo?”

I looked down at the thing in my hand, only the smallish head protruding. “Yes.”

“I’ll go slow. We’ll take our time.”

“I have to get back home afterward.”

“Why? Did the ad say how long the test would last?”

I re-read the ad in my mind. And the followup email. “No.”

“Then how would she know? You can go home after I fuck you. I don’t wear condoms by the way. I’ll shoot my load in you. It’s been a week. They said to go at least a week,” he added.

I had no such memory of anything in the instructions. The rules. This man was very…persuasive. In the course of a few minutes he’d coaxed out of me everything to do with my sex life. I was a quick-cummer, a cuckold. I was a bisexual bottom. I dressed up in women’s underwear. Now he’d tantalized me with an offer to go back to his apartment and “break my cherry.”

A droplet of liquid–cum–mostly clear, had formed at the eye of my penis. I warned him again: “You better stop now. Stroking me.”

“Why?”

“I’ll cum. I’ll lose interest afterwards.”

He laughed, released my cock. “Typical goddamn male. You suck cock?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve done it?”

“A few times, yes.”

“Since you’ve been married?”

“Yes,” travesti istanbul I admitted.

“Where?”

“Theaters. Glory holes.”

“You like it?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll suck my cock before I put it in you?”

“OK.”

“It’s agreed then. We’ll go to my apartment after this is over.”

One of the onlookers let go. His first shot of sperm striking my left hip. The rest landing on the floor. I stood there in a state of shock. The guy’s cum was now running down my thigh. What was I to do? There was no towel I could run for. I had no way to wipe myself clean.

I drove home. I still had the erection in my pants, though it felt like it was subsiding. He’d reached under and stroked me as he fucked me. It had been the best sex–the most adventurous–I’d ever had. He’d emptied his balls in me. I was now carrying my lover’s secret load. It thrilled me to acknowledge this.

My wife was in the kitchen when I arrived. “How’d your thing go?”

“Fine.”

“What’d they make you do?”

“Undress,” I explained. “They examined me–all of us.”

She glanced at the digital clock on the stove. “And that took, like, three hours? Four?”

“I made a new friend.”

“Who?”

“And we went to his place afterwards.”

“And did what?”

“Drinks. A few drinks.”

“Were you naked with him?”

“At the test, yes.”

“But not at his apartment?”

I wondered how my wife knew the man lived in an apartment. “All we did was have drinks. Shoot the shit.”

She mumbled something. “Shoot something…,” she may’ve said. “What do you want for dinner?”

“Whatever. I’m not all that hungry.”

My pretty wife looked over at me. “Why don’t you go upstairs and shower and change into the new outfit I bought you. It’s on the bed. Then you can come down and open a bottle of wine. Help me with dinner.”

I was intrigued. My heart was racing as fast as when I knelt on the man’s bed waiting for him to put it in me. As fast as when he was ejaculating inside me, and shouting out his pleasure

Our bed was unmade. A wetspot drying in the middle. On the near corner lay a black plastic bag. Inside was a black lace bra, pink bikini panties and a packaged pair of sheer black pantyhose. The kind with the hole in the middle so you can wear them while having sex. I put on lipstick as well after my shower–pink like the panties. I guessed that my wife, after dinner, would want to tie me up, whip me and then use her dildo on me.

When I came downstairs my wife was standing at the stove. She looked over at me. Smiled. Said, “You should be proud. You passed the test.”

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