My wife called me at the gym, in a rage. I’ve never heard her so angry. I could barely understand her, but I got the message. I guess she had always suspected something. All of my vague “nights out with the boys.” She said she didn’t care. She knew who I was coming home to, and that was enough. I gave her everything she needed in bed and out. Guillaume's girlfriend called her when the story broke. She had suspicions, too.
Of ...MoreOf course, the fact that Guillaume was with our fucktoy tied everything to the gym. And to me. There was no proof of anything between me and Guillaume, but it didn’t matter. Things that didn’t matter at the time became clear in retrospect. The dots connected. That was what set my wife off. Not my random hookups. The “fact” that I had a boyfriend. I didn’t! He’s not my boyfriend. I tried to tell her. It was too late.
I left the gym and went to my car. I needed to think. I cried. I haven’t cried since my Stepdad died when I was fifteen. Men don’t cry. Fags cry. I’m not! I didn’t think I was. I loved my wife. I treated her like a goddess, and I was her king. The rest of it was just… stuff. Guillaume and I aren’t lovers, we’re brothers. Just brothers. And, yeah, sometimes we did stuff, but it was just stuff!
Guillaume came out to the car. He tried to comfort me. He said I had to accept who I am. He said he’s there for me. I saw him go through it. I knew what I had to do. I just wasn't ready. It’s not fair. He is, but I’m not. I mean not really. It’s just stuff. But nobody cares about that. It’s out there. You are, or you're not, and everybody thinks I am. I made a video. Like Guillaume. I’m a fighter. I wasn’t going to let this get me down. I’m not! I just said it. What everybody expected to hear. I’m gay. I said that I hoped that, if there were any guys hiding out, that I hoped I could be an inspiration to them. Guillaume’s the real inspiration. My inspiration.
After I sent it, I went back to the gym. It’s my safe space, you know. I opened my phone and hearts were streaming across the screen. Hundreds of them. Oh, there was hate, too. I was ready for that. I just wasn’t ready to be accepted. Loved, even. Admired,too. I started to feel like… I was okay. My career wasn’t over, at least, but I just thought, if all of those people could accept me for who I am, maybe I could accept myself.
Maybe life doesn’t always have to be a fight. Maybe there is room to be loved. My wife loved the fighter and just ignored the rest. Guillaume loved me, even the part that I couldn’t love myself. He and Milo came in. I was sitting on the bench and they walked up behind me and started stroking my chest. For the first time ever I just let it happen. I just let myself feel it. Guillaume’s hands are so strong and Milo’s are soft, but not like a woman. Like a man.
Guillaume and I shared him. Milo, Guillaume’s fag. I got to give it to him. He can take a fucking. We pounded him from both ends switching back and forth. It felt good. So damn good. I’m an alpha male stud who fucks ass and loves it. I’ve never felt as close to Guillaume as I did at that moment. Two brothers. Real men banging the hell out of our fucktoy together. Then we did it. It had to happen. I guess Milo’s ass was about as open as it ever had been in his life.
He was riding Guillaume’s dick and Guillaume laid back on the bench. I just stuck my cock in, too. Me and Guillaume fucking the same hole. Our cocks rubbing against each other. I just never! I reached down and grabbed the bitch boy's little prick and started jacking him. I wanted to see him cum before I fucked my load into his hole. And he did. He fired off half a dozen shots all over my hand and his crotch. I don’t know what came over me. It was just the moment. I licked my hand. The first time in my life that I tasted another man’s jizz. It… tasted good. Like a man. Then I filled the little fag up!
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