The Haircut

Preface

The following is a fond memory for me that I've finally gained the courage to write down. While I've naturally embellished for the purpose of the story, you might be surprised how much actually happened. It's a bisexual story, with gay contact and married hetero sex, but no group bisexuality. As such, it may please nobody but me, but remembering it turns me on so much that I just had to share. It's a long story, but there are multiple mini-climaxes along the way, so feel free to read a chapter or two at a time.

Chapter 1: The Haircut

I needed a haircut. The last one was so bad that - I kid you not - I had the barber shave my head. I mean, how hard is it to do a Caesar cut?

"Oh sure, I know how to do that." Ten minutes later and my hair looked like an aging middle manager in khakis, only lopsided. The look on his face was priceless when I asked him to shave it. Then he had the nerve to say I needed to pay cash even though there was a Visa/Mastercard sign in the door! I'm tempted to tell you that I just left and stiffed him, but the reality is, I'm not that bold. So I went and got cash -- even paid the $4.50 ATM fee, AND left him a tip. I guess I felt bad for hurting his feelings. But hey! I'm the one that got a crappy haircut. I'm such a sucker.

Anyway, it had been like 2 months and my hair was an unruly mess. I can't believe how much haircuts cost since moving to California from the Midwest. It's almost $50 to go the place at the mall! My wife was cutting it for the first few months, but she made a mistake and left a big gash on the side of my head and now she's scared to do it. It still looked better than that barber if you ask me, but either way, I was left looking for a new stylist.

As I pulled into my parking space at work, I saw a Grand Opening sign for a salon in the run down strip mall behind my office. It's a nice part of town, but cinder block strip malls are the same just about everywhere. 'Maybe that's worth a try,' I thought. At lunch, I walked over and slid in the door of the salon quietly. It was a modestly decorated salon with five chairs, two of which were filled by a pair of younger guys sitting with their backs to me, speaking in a language I didn't recognize. Arabic maybe?

The one closer to me was rail thin and somewhat tall. His short sleeve t-shirt showed off skinny, but defined arms. As thin as he was, he probably could have passed for a woman if he had hips. His wild blonde hair looked like it belonged to a rebel in a TV movie. His companion (friend, coworker?) was dark haired with a thick, crisply trimmed beard. Even for a new place, I wasn't so sure about an empty salon, and there was a faint smell of cigarette smoke in the air. I HATE cigarette smoke. Just as I was about to turn on my heel and leave, the dark haired fellow saw me in the mirror and stood to greet me.

"Welcome in!" he said warmly in an unfamiliar accent.

I stuttered my apologies to tried to leave. "Thanks, I was just checking..."

"Have a seat," he said. "Looks like you could use haircut my friend." His broken English was pretty understandable, but he was not well practiced.

Damnit, I really hate cigarettes. But I started walking toward the chair anyway. Ugh, I swear I'm not a pushover. I'm really a tough manly guy. Ok, I like to cuddle with my wife (I'll deny if you tell anyone!). But I played football in college. I was a defensive lineman, so I'm clearly not afraid of a scrap. I just hate conflict. And while I never looked like Adonis, I think I have a decent frame, with some nice muscles to go along with a small pooch in the middle. I definitely never felt scared walking down the street at night.

"How much for a haircut?"

"Twenty dollar." There was that broken English again. Oh well, I did need a haircut and the price was hard to ignore. He gestured toward the chair in the back and I settled in. I noticed incense burning in the corner. Maybe that was the smoky smell? It wasn't so bad now that I was inside. As he put the apron around me, or... whatever that thing is called, he asked, "What kind of haircut do you want?"

"Do you know how to do a Caesar cut?"

"Sure Sure Sure," he said in rapid succession.

I was skeptical--after the last couple of stylists--that he even knew what a Caesar cut was, but I turned in my chair to let him start. But instead of grabbling the clippers, his friend stood up, and then they casually kissed, and switched places. It happened so quickly that my brain did a little spin as it processed that a) the one I was talking to wasn't the stylist and b) these two were gay. Ok, not a complete shocker that a hair stylist was gay, but I hadn't gotten that vibe walking in.

The gay thing was something I was still getting used to in California. I'm not homophobic or anything, but it's just different out in San Francisco area. In Iowa, if someone was gay, they were GAY. Like, you could see it coming before you even met them. I'm talking the clothes, the accent, the body language. Or maybe they stayed in the closet, but there was no in between. I even had a good friend who was gay. Took me to a gay bar and everything. I just told everyone I was straight and other than a lewd comment once in a while, they respected that. The point is, I'm not a homophobe.

But San Francisco is just different. Gay people here are just so... casual about it. The first time I saw two gay men kissing was a couple of 40-somethings on their way to work. One gave the other a tiny peck on the lips just like I would kiss my wife leaving for work. That's it? Where was the sequin and feather outfit? Don't get me wrong, they have that here too. But there's just a comfort about it here. They don't feel a need to defend themselves maybe? For whatever reason, it actually made me way more comfortable around them. They didn't care, so I didn't either. This kiss in the salon felt like that. So nonchalant and... boring. But it still made me look at them in a slightly different light. I'm not even sure I could describe how.

Perhaps because of that, I was conflicted about what came next. The taller fellow walked up behind me. He took both hands and ran his fingers through my hair, pressing gently into my scalp as he went. My world stopped! I'm not sure if it was a split second or 5 seconds. It was simultaneously electric and soothing. I literally closed my eyes and had to stop myself from letting out a moan. I can't actually say for certain I succeeded. I instantly felt shame. I'm not gay! But I would also be lying if I told you I wasn't a little turned on. Actually probably I felt shame BECAUSE I felt turned on. My cock gave a tiny pulse involuntarily.

I've never understood how some people just have that kind of touch. I'll never forget the first time I held hands with a girl that had an amazing touch like that. I had nearly melted. It's so erotic. But nobody has ever held a candle to my wife's touch. I feel energy coming from her fingers. It lights up my skin any place she brushes me, intentional or not. Ironically, she's not much of a physical touch person. Don't get me wrong, she's amazing in the sack and we do more than our fair share of lovemaking (the neighbors can vouch for that). But she's not someone who constantly craves touching and being touched. Perhaps that makes it more special when she does.

This was really the only time I've felt that kind of sensation from someone other than her. And it was a guy! WHAT THE HELL?!

Without saying a word, he produced scissors from his hand out of nowhere, like a magician doing a card trick, and started making quick, small snips in rapid succession. Wow, this guy was either really good or really bad. A few minutes in, it became apparent he knew what he was doing. His hands moved quickly but not rushed. He was fast, but still intentional about what he was doing. He silently clipped away while his friend made small talk. Where am I from? What do I do. I answered politely and it was clear he had worked hard on his English.

Fifteen minutes later, I was mesmerized by the scissors moving so rapidly that I had forgotten about the awkwardness I initially felt. As he was finishing up the trim around my neck, I realized this haircut would have cost me a hundred bucks somewhere else. I was a bit distracted when I realized that he spoke. He had a soft voice, though not quite effeminate, and spoke in very broken English. "You want?" He motioned shaving below my collar, not knowing the right words to communicate. "I do this?"

"No, no, that's fine."

He looked a bit disappointed, so I reassured him. "This looks great. Wow! You're really good."

His friend piped up. "Mesut is amazing. He's does all the hair for the movie stars in Turkey." Ah, so they were from Turkey. I didn't know Turkey made movies. I'm not sure how big a deal that made him, but clearly he knew what he was doing. I was definitely coming back here.

"Thanks Mesut," I nodded toward him. He smiled shyly and nodded.

His friend introduced himself. "I'm Adem," he said with the accent on the 'dem'.

"Gary," I said reaching out my hand to shake. It sounded like such a boring white guy name compared to these interesting names. Well, I suppose Gary would be exotic in Turkey.

I handed Adem the $20 and bid them farewell. Mesut reached out to squeeze my shoulder, though I got the sense there was a tiny bit of exploration going on, feeling out if my muscles really were as big as they seemed under the shirt. Not that I'm some ripped bodybuilder, but there's a firmness to my arms that my wife seems to like when she gets excited. As his hand lingered just a half second too long, I felt that electricity again. Right away, I was back to feeling awkward, both liking being touched and feeling like I shouldn't.

I left and watched them disappear around the corner at the back of the shop, holding hands and talking in Turkish. I wondered what Adem thought of his boyfriend being flirty with another man.

That night, I told my wife all about it. Well, not ALL the details. But I told her how I thought he liked me and grabbed my shoulder. She elbowed me in the ribs and teased me about how I must have liked it. "Oh yeah, you know me," I exclaim sarcastically. "For $20 though? I'm definitely going back."

"$20 bucks, same as in town," she laughs, recalling the punchline to an old joke about prostitutes.

Oh man, I'll never live this down. After a bit more teasing, she nestles her head into the bend of my neck and chest. Wow, I'm a lucky man. Did I mention I like to cuddle? Ahem, anyway, how about that Bears game?

Chapter 2: The Shave

I didn't even make it a month. Normally I go 6 weeks between cuts, though that's truthfully a bit long. But at $20 I could afford to do it sooner, and I don't know... I kind of just wanted to go back.

I walked in and there was a customer there. I was glad they were getting more traffic. I didn't want them going out of business on me. Instantly, Adem rose and shook my hand, directing me toward the chair in the back again. The other customer was an elderly lady with slightly blue hair. Mesut clipped away with his usual frenetic style. The lady seemed a bit less comfortable with it than I was, judging by the way she gripped the chair with white knuckles, and the wide-eyed look on her face as she held her head as still as a rabbit when it sees a coyote.

Still, when he finished, it was undeniably nice, and you could almost see her thinking through whether she's more pleased with the outcome or still nervous about the scissors that had been flying about her face. As she exited, Adem placed the apron around my neck and lowered the chair for Mesut.

Mesut walked forward and assessed my hair. He was more instantly open this time. "Hello," he said as he looked at my hair. You could see he wanted to say more but couldn't find the right words.

"Hey Mesut," I replied. His face brightened and turned upward to look at me in the mirror. He seemed surprised I remembered his name. I was just being friendly but as our eyes made contact, it unintentionally felt like flirting. I cast my eyes down and that only made me think it was more flirty. Ugh. That's the last impression I wanted to leave.

"You... same?" Mesut asked. I looked a bit confused and Adem piped in. "He wants to know if you want a Caesar cut again.

"Oh... yes. Thanks."

He took both hands and pulled back from the front of my hair, running his fingers backwards toward himself. Ohhhhh, was all I could think, trying as hard as I could do not to say it out loud. Don't close your eyes, don't close your eyes, don't close your eyes. In keeping them open, it was hard not to notice his arms flexing as he pulled them backward. They were slightly effeminate, but still sharp and defined. Honestly, it's exactly the kind of slightly muscular arms I find incredibly attractive on a woman. I was prepared this time as my cock stirred ever so slightly, but I wondered how much of it was the feel of his hands on my head or thought of running my hands along those muscles. As he started working on my hair, I realized what just happened.

OH MY GOSH, DID I JUST CHECK OUT ANOTHER GUY!?!? What the hell was going on? Next thing you know I'll be looking at bulges in his pants! Just then he moved to the side of me and I could see it... Oh shit, he did have a bulge in his pants! Don't look at that! But... wow. Ok, I'm not practiced at looking at crotches, but I'm pretty sure that's unusually large. Was he getting hard or was he just that big? Why was I thinking about another man's dick? Oh shit!

Just then I looked up and we made eye contact in the mirror. He had seen me staring at his crotch! Oh god! I almost bolted right then and there -- just got up and left mid-haircut. I must have looked like a deer in the headlights and he seemed to sense it.

He broke the awkward silence. "How long?" he spoke haltingly. For a split second I thought he was asking about the last time I had sex, and then I remembered where I was.

"Oh, uhh, just a little short. Like a summer cut." And just like that my panic was over. I mean, there was still tension in the air, but it was ok. This was just a haircut.

Only this time was a bit different. He went slowly this time. Well, not slow, but for him it was slow. Each movement was considered, like he didn't want it to be over. And in that moment, I had to admit, I liked it. I know that's weird. Who likes getting a haircut? But his hands felt good as they commanded my head to move to one position or another. I know it's weird to say, but I had chemistry... with another guy. And for some reason it didn't bother me. I knew I wasn't gay. So what's the harm if we had an energy between us?

As he shaved around my neck again, he made the same motion as last time, as if to shave down below the collar. "Yes?" was all he said, questioning whether he could continue. I bit my upper lip as I do when I'm pondering something, and after a moment gave a tentative nod.

He startled me a bit as he unbuttoned the top button of my Oxford shirt, but I quickly realized he was just trying to gain access to farther down my neck. Though, he did let his fingers brush across my chest as he pulled the cloth back. Was that intentional? Was I imagining things?

I've always liked my chest. Every girlfriend I ever had has liked my chest. It was the one thing I really felt good about myself. So maybe that made me a little more sensitive to the idea that this was a sensual touch. Either way... damn that felt good. Why did that have to feel so good?

He moved the shaver across my neck, farther and farther down to almost the top of my shoulder blades. And as he gained access to see down my back, he made a tick sound with his tongue. He said something in Turkish. Adem, who had been notably quiet this time around, spoke up. "He says you need to shave your back."

Uh, yeah I had thought about that. But it's hard to do on your own and I didn't have one of those manscaper tools. I'm a bit of a bear really. Hairy chest and back, though not covered in fur like some men. Just a medium covering of light, slightly curly hair. My wife loves it. She nuzzles her nose into my chest and says it tickles her. But nobody likes a hairy back.

Still, I didn't quite know what to say to that. Obviously I wasn't going to strip right there in the salon, so I just said "Yeah" with an aw-shucks sort of voice. Apparently, he just heard 'yes, let's do it,' so he started walking back around the corner out of site of the front window. I started to object but he pulled out one of those foldable privacy screens that's about 6 feet tall and waved for me to come over.

I'm not sure why I went. Maybe it's the "total pushover" thing I talked about before. Maybe I did like the idea of a smooth back. I'd like to think it's not because I wasn't aroused by the idea of taking my shirt off for this man. I can't really rule it out though. For whatever reason, I went.

That's a missing piece in a lot of erotic stories I read. I hate when someone just jumps into a sexual situation and it doesn't sound realistic. But the truth is, when someone WANTS to do something, they only need to overcome their inhibitions to make it happen. In this case, his invitation was enough. I truthfully expected that he would just shave my back and that would be it. But the fun part was imagining it going further. That doesn't mean I wanted more to happen, but it could be fuel for a later fantasy. Either way, it wasn't like he was going to drop and suck my cock on the spot. And truthfully, I didn't WANT anything more to happen, but I'm not sure the part of me that makes my skin tingle when he touched me agreed. Either way, I rose, and my legs sort of piloted their way back there without a lot of input from my brain.

Adem didn't follow, sitting in a chair and watching the door. I wasn't sure what to make of that. My mind briefly floated to the idea of being forced to do something against my will, but it was a silly thought and I quickly flushed it. Plus, I could best Mesut in a fight with one arm and probably take both of them if I had to. It wasn't so much a real fear as a reflection of the unfamiliarity of this new territory. Was I really going back to a private area with a gay man to take off my shirt and let him groom me?

Once around the corner, Mesut stood and motioned for me to unbutton my shirt. Thank goodness for that. If he had reached to unbutton my shirt the way he had before, it would have had way too strong of a seduction vibe. I turned my back to him and unbuttoned the dress shirt. I'm not sure why I turned my back. Perhaps I was afraid of eye contact, or maybe I was ashamed of my little beer belly.

He didn't prompt me to turn around. He just started shaving with the clippers, beginning with my neck and moving down, brushing his hand across my skin from time to time to clear away the hair and also, I think, to feel if he shaved close to the skin. It was an odd mix of sensations. The rough, cold, sharp edges of the shaver. The disgust of liking his touch as he brushed away the hair. The breezy feeling of my skin cleanly shaven. And the ever-electric touch of his hands. I swear he brushed just a bit slower than was necessary, but not so long that it was an obviously erotic touch.

In either case, I clearly was responding in ways that were hard to hide. I don't have a particularly big dick, but I've also never had trouble pleasing a woman. My sense is I'm about average in length and a bit wider around than average. But more to the point is the shape. When it isn't hard, It's kinda short and pointed straight out. As my friends would say, "I'm a grow-er not a show-er."

It was a bit embarrassing at times actually. I have a fairly pronounced butt, so the front of my pants always gets stretched. With my not-hard prick pressing straight out, it looks like I've got a 1-inch hard-on if my pants aren't loose fitting. Junior High had some interesting days, let me tell you.

When it's hard, it grows dramatically and stands straight up proud at a sharp angle, with an oversized, fleshy mushroom head at the end that looks made for sucking on. I think it's quite a nice looking cock, though I wonder if men just learn to like a cock that looks like their own. Not that I think about sucking cock or look at a lot of cock. But I also can appreciate a nice one in a porn compilation.

Anyway, as I got a bit excited, it pointed straight out and it was not subtle. As I became rubbery, I shifted my pants a little bit and it went down my leg and became much less pronounced, though I doubted Mesut could have missed me adjusting myself.

Perhaps this made him bolder, because his touches went from light brushes to longer, fuller strokes along my shoulders and arms and down my obliques. Oh wow, that felt so good. I love my wife, but she just does not touch me like that. Even taking the sexual tension out of the situation, I could just pay him to stand here and touch me like that for an hour. Like a soft massage. I could smell him now that he was standing so close. If you asked me before today whether I would like that, I would have said that would kill any arousal instantly. But standing there, I found it incredibly erotic to breathe in his scent.

I tried to hide how much I liked it, but clearly I was doing a poor job, as my dick now grew straight sideways, with a noticeable stretch along the front of my pants. He moved around to the front of me, still not making sustained eye contact other than a quick glance. He hadn't said a single word, and I wasn't sure if that was the language barrier or his personality.

He pantomimed unbuckling my belt. I didn't say anything, but clearly hesitated. He mimed shaving around my underwear line. I started to unbuckle. Oh god, what was I doing? With his own pants, he mimed to unbutton and unzip my pants and let them fall just an inch or two. This was starting to stray into the erotic space that my brain had imagined but didn't really think was possible. I couldn't believe it as my hands did his bidding, revealing just below the pants line to show a few inches of my underwear. If there was any doubt about the engorged state of my cock before, it was gone now.

For a second, I thought he was going to reach out and touch it. But he just took the clippers, and as promised, shaved the top of my underwear line. His hands only inches from my cock practically made it spring to full life. Then all of the sudden he was behind me again, kneeling to finish my lower back.

As he stood, he ran both hands across my back, seemingly admiring his work. I have no idea where he hid the razor when he was doing that. He started from bottom to top in the middle, across my neck and shoulders and back down the sides, while pivoting back around to the front of me.

My heart was RACING. Could he feel that when he touched me? Did he notice when I held my breath? As he looked up, our eyes met and held for just a moment before I looked away. He was so close, I could smell the mint gum he had been chewing. I smelled not only his cologne but the slightly sweet and musky scent underneath.

At this point, my cock was getting hard enough that I worried it would start to peek out from the rim of my underwear. I wanted him... wanted him... to what? Touch me? Kneel in front of me and take me in his mouth? Kiss me? That seemed a bridge too far, but oh my goodness... I needed some kind of release.

Instead, he took my hand in his. That was unexpected. And then, he pulled my arm above my head, and indicated to hold it up. He slowly shaved the small hairs on the underside of my arm, and made his way downward. For all of my mind's wandering about this being a seduction, he was being quite professional, other than a lingering touch here and there, but that might have been my own imagination. Or maybe that's just the way his hands moved, like the way a dancer can't help but move gracefully.

These thoughts swirled around my head he started to shave my armpits. For a split second, I was trapped in my thoughts and didn't notice, but this was so unexpected, I froze. Wait, this is not ok! This was just a little too gay for me and I instantly went back to the awkward zone.

How could I explain this to my wife? Maybe I could explain away the shaved back. But armpits? No guy shaves their armpits. I imagined her thinking I was secretly gay and cheating on her. Was I? If I did this with a woman, no doubt she would not be ok with it. But I hadn't done anything! It was all in my mind. All of these thoughts raced through my head in a split second.

I yanked my arm down and pulled away, shouting "NO!", a bit more emphatically than I intended. Mesut pulled back like a scolded puppy, instantly grabbing up his things and moving to leave. I hadn't meant to yell. I didn't even want him to stop necessarily. I just didn't want shaved armpits. I reached for his hand to tell him it was ok, but Adem quickly came around the privacy screen, and all three of us stared at each other silently, trying to read each other's emotions. Was Adem mad at me? At Mesut?

The standoff was broken as a ringing bell indicated someone had entered the salon door. Each of us sprang in our own direction as I grabbed my shirt and hastily buttoned it. I handed Adem a $20 bill before rushing out, realizing as I went through the door that I hadn't paid for the back shave. I laughed silently at the idea.

Chapter 3: The Escape

I didn't return to the office, but went straight home, thinking all the way about what had happened. Was it all in my head or did he want me? And what if he did? Would I have let him touch me? More than that? Suck me? I was repulsed by the idea even as the throbbing between my legs betrayed me at each thought of it. But what about STDs? Did he take every moderately handsome man behind the privacy screen for a blowjob? Was Mesut so skinny because he had AIDS? That didn't make any sense. He didn't look sickly. If anything, his muscle tone suggested he was quite active. I definitely got a peak at his abs and they were nice. Damnit, why does my dick keep jerking like that when I think of him?

Wait, was I gay? No, I had never even looked at a guy before this. Was I bi? I didn't think so. I am repulsed by the idea of touching or kissing a guy. Well, maybe in the heat of the moment today there was an instant where I would have considered it. But kissing? No way! Anal? No way in hell! Still, was I starting to become bi? The more I thought about it, the more my two minds diverged. The one in my head more certain than ever I wasn't bi, and the one in my pants aching to go back there and let Mesut spring it free from my underwear. What have I gotten myself into?

As I entered the apartment stairwell, I realized I had come home without my computer and still with a pretty rubbery hard-on. Wow, I was still turned on an hour later despite all of my doubts. How to explain all this to my wife? Would she smell him on me? I didn't think we had that much physical contact. I was dead certain that my underwear would be sticky with pre-cum.

Any notion I had of sneaking past her to change was quickly put to rest, as she was studying at the table when I entered. "What are you doing home so early?" she said curiously.

"I just felt like getting home to you," I replied with a big, forced smile. She got up to give me a kiss. As she hugged me, my hardness gave me away.

"You DID miss me, didn't you?"

"You have no idea," I whispered as I pulled her into a deep and passionate kiss. In the moment, I poured all my sexual frustration into that kiss. I can't always count on such passion turning her on, but she responded with every bit of vigor I put into it.

"Mmm," she moaned with a sly smile, as if we were being naughty after 5 years of marriage. We married when she was just 19 and in college. It was a short engagement and a long story that I'll retell another time. I never regretted a day of it, but occasionally I don't think I realized just how lucky I am. She is beautiful, brilliant and fun.

I practically attacked her I was so ravenous to take her. We didn't even make it to the top of the stairs before I pushed her down and kissed her neck passionately. I was worried I would come on too strong, but she met me stride for stride. "What's gotten into you?" she exclaimed. Without answering, I stripped off her shirt and bra. Wow, she looked good. She had gained a few pounds from the lithe and lanky teen that I married, but in many ways she was even more beautiful. She carried herself with confidence now. Her previously wispy hair was shoulder short, but full and sensuous. Her breasts, always fantastic, were a picture of perfection. Not too big, not too small, but shaped as if sculpted by Michelangelo himself, perfectly round as she lay on her back. I squeezed one in my hand, and looked at her lustily before kissing her pale skin and pulling her dark, taught nipple into my mouth, making her whimper softly.

As I stripped off my shirt, she hugged me and gasped. Not a sexual gasp, but a surprised one. "What did...," she started.

Oh shit, I forgot about my shaved back. "I, uh, that guy offered to do it for me," I fumbled the words.

I looked at her expectantly and she said, "The gay Turkish guy?"

"Yeah," I responded. "I thought you would like it."

I could see her thinking about making a joke, but decided she wanted me more. She just nodded, and then said, almost as if realizing it herself "Fuck yes, that's nice."

Somehow we made it to the bedroom. I threw her down on the bed and pounced, kissing her deeply, then her neck, down her cleavage, to her belly button, down her tiny sexy pooch of a belly, to her pants. I grabbed them with my teeth and needed just a bit of help from my fingers to unbutton them. I looked up at her to see her goofy, mischievous smile as I pulled down her pants and panties in one fluid motion. I inhaled deeply as my nose explored her thighs. She asked if she should take a shower. Normally, we wash up before oral sex. My answer was to plunge in with wild abandon.

She was already wet. I didn't mind, working my tongue in and around her vagina. Normally, I'm much more teasing, with light touches that extend the pleasure for sometimes half an hour. I'd take even more time but she forces me to finish her if go too long. It drives her crazy being on the edge. This... was a bit more direct. She gasped a deep thrashing breath as I sucked and tongued her, easing off and teasing just enough that it didn't overwhelm. She wrapped her legs around me and in just a minute or two was heaving and shaking.

She was trembling as she pulled me toward her. Before I could even react, she kissed me deeply, her juices covering half my face. Woah, that never happened before! I always went and washed up after going down on her. She didn't seem to mind as we made out for a good 5 minutes like teenagers in a car. I have to say, nothing gets me harder than a good kiss, and having already started hard, I was about to burst!

It definitely did not go unnoticed. She felt beneath my underwear and cooed. "Oooh, I want that."

"Not just yet." I got up on my knees over her. "My turn," I said -- half question, half demand. I had been thinking about a blowjob for hours now and I wasn't going to be satisfied until I got one. She bent her head down to reach for my cock as I kneeled over her. She licked along the underside and grabbed for the head with her lips. I pulled back off the bed and stood on the floor, looking down to make clear I wanted her kneeling. What was getting into me? I'm normally a very sensitive lover, even when I'm being forceful. This was much more assertive than she was used to. I suddenly worried I had killed the mood.

But she rose to the moment again, rolling over and crawling like a cat to kneel on all fours at the edge of the bed, reaching out to kiss the tip. I backed up again, and she got down from the bed to stand in front of me, reaching to kiss my mouth, but pulling back as I moved to respond. Two could play at this game I suppose. She had a naughty smile as she slowly dropped to her knees without ever breaking eye contact.

As much as I love the image of my nice, swollen member laying on my wife's outstretched tongue, that didn't happen here, because I was way too hard. It practically pointed straight up, and she had to sit up and pull it forward just to bend it into her mouth. She started out a bit more slowly than I had with her, kissing the head, licking the underside and taking the first few inches in her mouth as she caressed the underside with her tongue.

Then she plunged me as deep as she could, swallowing my entire length. I felt the tip of my cock hitting the back of her throat and I suddenly imagined it was Mesut. It was almost more than I could take. How was I possibly still getting harder? My manhood was like a stainless steel bar wrapped tightly in a satin cloth. The skin literally wouldn't stretch any farther, sliding without flex against her tongue with each stroke in an out of her mouth.

I couldn't take much more of this. I was going to blow my load right in her mouth. I pulled away and lifted her up to kiss her, the taste of my cock still on her tongue. Oh geez, now THAT was turning me on as I imagine the taste of another cock on my tongue. Even if I fucked her now, I wouldn't last 30 seconds. Everything I could think of to do next -- go down on her again, suck on her breasts, kiss her gently (or not gently) -- was just going to get me going even more. I didn't want this to be over.

"I'm going to get some scotch. Wait here?" But rather than lie back, she instead followed on my heel. She followed me down the stairs, running her fingers down my newly shaved back. Again, I was brought back to the image of Mesut running his fingers along my back. So much for calming me down. We snuck past the apartment sliding door, hoping the bright lights of day would keep people from seeing into the unlit apartment. I grabbed some scotch from the kitchen and poured a glass neat.

She grabbed the glass from my hand and took a big swig and dropped to her knees before I could even object. Somehow, my still hard cock had dropped to half-mast. Within seconds of swallowing it, she had returned it to attention and full hardness. How long could I stay hard? It must have been two hours by now! I pulled away. "God, that feels good, but I'm not going to last if you keep doing that." I pulled her up and kissed her, then took the glass for myself.

Taking a deliberately large drink and swishing it in my mouth, I bent to suck on her perfect breasts. My cock twitched with excitement. I led her around to the front room and closed the curtains, then pushed her back on the leather couch. Taking another swig of whisky, I put my nose between her thighs again, and this time I was gentle and deliberate. I went slow, then fast. Hard, then soft. Flicking rapidly and then calming with long, slow strokes. I blew on her clit to cool it down as she giggled in delight. I owned her. She was like a marionette on strings, responsive to my every move. I don't know how long I took. Time seemed to stop between swirls of whisky as we passed the glass back and forth. I only know I stayed there long enough that my head started to swim from the whisky and my knees started to ache from kneeling on the carpet.

But I couldn't stop now. I could tell she was getting close. Her back arched just a bit more, her nipples were fully pronounced and her breasts stood tall as her muscles tensed. She seemed almost in a trance. Then some kind of threshold was crossed. I'm sure I've made love to my wife thousands of times since we met. We went at it like rabbits the first few years. Only a few times have I heard those noises from her. Whimpering, gasping, breathless trembling. Then she exploded with moans and thrusting hips, literally grabbing the back of my head and refusing to let me withdraw as I simultaneously sucked and licked her clit with all I could muster. Her vocalizations became an indiscernible melding of "ungh, uhh, oooh" all flowing together until she had no breath left, and she struggled to take a new one. My cock was straining at the arousal of it all.

As her hips stopped bucking, I slowed my speed and intensity until all that was left was a gentle, unmoving suction on her clit. The key to great cunnilingus is the end. Too little and they're unsatisfied, too much and you ruin it. I knew her well though, and let her down slowly. She still hadn't taken a breath. What was that, 30 seconds? The average person couldn't hold their breath longer than 20 if they were thinking about it.

She finally let air enter her lungs... and... started crying. Not, crying exactly. More like a happy whimpering cry. Wow, I had never fucked her like that. And we hadn't even fucked yet. Come to think of it, had I just ruined my chance? I mean, after cumming that hard, would she have anything left? I have it luckier than most men in that department. I think I made her cum a dozen times in a 24 hour period once, but every woman has their limits, and that was an earth shattering orgasm. I'm not sure I've ever made her cum that hard.

After nearly a minute of lying there with her eyes closed, she looked straight at me, then pulled me up to her for a kiss, again not wanting me to wash off. It was a tender kiss this time. Not lascivious or naughty like before. It was as if she had forgotten I even had her juices on my lips. "I love you so much," she whimpered.

"I love you more," I whispered back. And as our lips touched again, I entered her.

She didn't gasp, or whimper. But her kiss tightened around my lips as I pushed gently inside. She seemed to relax a bit and return to herself as she looked me in the eyes. It was all I could do not to start thrusting for all I was worth. I was still rock hard and every stroke felt like a flood of pleasure. But this was not about sensation. This was about love. I teased my cock at her entrance and danced in an out playfully, occasionally thrusting 3/4 deep and being rewarded with a gasp or a caught breath. With every thrust I dared not break eye contact. My prior thoughts of Mesut were completely flushed from my mind. This was the life I wanted. The woman I wanted.

As we rocked gently back and forth, kissing and nuzzling and caressing with our hands, I slowly built speed. I'm not sure how I lasted so long. Perhaps at this point my dick was just numb. People talk about making love all night long, but the average session is a couple of minutes. Maybe 5 or 10 even if you include foreplay. We had been touching and teasing for well over an hour, and I was inside of her for at least five minutes before she started tensing again and looking at me with pleading eyes. I knew what she wanted.

I turned her onto her back on the couch and pulled fully on top of her, waiting only momentarily before thrusting hard and deep, but slow. She started moaning with each thrust. No, not moaning. More like a pleading yelp. I was happy to oblige, plunging harder and faster. Her cries grew louder. I went faster and deeper. The neighbors surely had heard us before, but now they could not possibly miss us. Finally, after hours of teasing, I was to the point of no return. It was all too much. I exploded with energy, thrusting with all the speed and strength I had built the entire day. My eyes rolled back in my head and distantly, I heard my wife go from wailing at the top of her lungs to a low guttural sound. Before I said I had only made her make those noises a few times? Well, this was something entirely new.

Her pleasure brought me back to the moment. I grabbed both her breasts, one in each hand, and put all my weight on her and fucked her like my life depended on it. I managed to go another 30 seconds somehow, right on the edge of cumming. She just kept cumming right through all of it, her vocalizations now a high pitched "neee," still something I've never heard from her. I came so hard I think I left my body. I wasn't a brute force nor a furious race. It was flustered and flailing. I couldn't even pump in rhythm through the shaking. I was vaguely aware that I was making gasping uncontrolled moans. It lasted what seemed forever and I could FEEL my sperm shooting into my wife. Not just out of me, but feel it squirt into her. Eventually I slowed and realized my face was twisted into what must have been a grotesque expression.

Still spasming, I opened my eyes. My wife was simultaneously crying and beaming at me. How do women give that look of total and utter love? I can't figure it out. Somewhere along the way, I had taken my hands off her breasts, but my weight was still fully pressed against her. I'm a big guy, and she usually begs for breath when I finish. But this time when I started pulling off, she pulled me back close to her. "I want to feel every spasm. Don't you dare leave me til every one is done." I looked at her again as she continued to beam. I kissed her and continued tiny pulses for another full minute. She smiled at every one of them.

That was the best fuck, no, the best lovemaking, no actually both, that I've ever had in my life. "What got into you?" she repeated.

That night, as I tossed and turned next to my amazing wife, I dreamed of my cock hitting the back of Mesut's throat. The next night, I dreamed of his cock against the back of mine. *Sigh* What was wrong with me?

Chapter 4: All In My Head

Two months passed. I asked my wife to cut my hair again, and she asked why I didn't just go back to my gay friend (a playful smile as she said it). I told her I just wanted to save money and she said for $20 someone else could do it. I let it grow a little long, and I got a haircut from some crappy place again. My wife could clearly see it wasn't from Mesut, but she didn't say anything.

Damnit, I was going to have to at least try to go back. But I just couldn't flush the sexual thoughts from my head. I was having almost nightly fantasies about him that started creeping into my masturbation sessions. I even looked a bit of gay porn, though it almost universally repulsed me. I couldn't figure out the disconnect between that disgust and the way I thought about Mesut.

The next month I went back to the salon. I went by twice to make sure there were no other customers. As I walked in, I reminded myself that nothing had actually happened between us. He shaved my back and I didn't want him to shave my underarms. The rest was in my head.

When I walked in, Mesut and Adem both looked expectantly at me, as if they had never expected to see me again. "Hi," I said awkwardly. "I, uh, I never paid you for the back shave. I appreciate you doing that. I'm sorry for the misunderstanding. I just didn't want my arms shaved."

They shared a look before Adem spoke up. "It's ok." I tried to hand him a $10 bill but he just waved and refused. I looked toward Mesut to read his expression but he just gathered up his scissors. Adem motioned me to an empty chair at the back and put the apron around my neck. Mesut walked over and started without saying a word. I sat still as he worked his frantic magic. A wizard with those scissors he was. I still loved his fingers in my hair and his hands on my neck.

There was no offer or request for a back shave, even though it was probably time. I said sorry once again as I departed, but nothing more came of it.

I went twice more over the following few months, and the routine was pretty much the same, though it seemed there was a thaw between us. A friendly familiarity started to form between us, but it never went beyond that. Adem seemed to warm up to me as well, and we continued our chats while Mesut worked. Mesut even chimed in once in a while, though I couldn't tell if he was just naturally shy or scared to speak English. They had apparently left Turkey out of fear. Gays were apparently not as welcomed as they had once been. He talked about their dreams of opening a salon in San Francisco, but said it was too expensive. I told them they'd get there eventually.

My nightly fantasies continued, and by this point I had found that I wasn't as bothered by the idea of having these thoughts in my head, though they never extended beyond Mesut. I wasn't sure why, but I just had no desire to do any of this with another man. With Mesut though, my fantasies grew bolder, and my mind would creep up to the edge of something new, like sharing a kiss or even rubbing his cock against my butt cheek, before my mind retreated in disgust. But over time, I was going just a bit further in my head.

I continued my monthly haircuts, and after a few more visits, any lingering weirdness between us seemed gone. They looked forward to seeing me and we talked and greeted like old friends. Adem genuinely smiled when I entered on a Thursday morning and we exchanged a brief, friendly hug. Mesut, as usual, was more reserved and didn't offer more than a warm "Hello."

The place was empty as it unfortunately was too often. I never understood how he remained undiscovered. It's hard enough to find a good haircut, much less a cheap one. I plopped down in my usual chair at the end without invitation. Adem smiled knowingly and wrapped the apron around me. As Mesut approached, I asked how things were going. "Are you ok?"

"What do you mean?" His English was getting so much better. I guess it had been nearly a year now.

"I just, don't see a lot of customers in here. You're so good at this but I'm worried about you." He seemed to relax that I was asking about his business and not on a personal level. I thought that was interesting. Could it be that he cared about me?

"It's okay. The old ladies keeps me busy. And they rich."

I chuckled, and snuck a look at him as he was styling away on my hair. He glanced out of the corner of his eye but pretended not to notice. When I first started coming there, that would have sent me into a mini-panic that he'd seen me stealing looks.

Midway through the haircut, I chanced to ask him, "Would you mind shaving my back again?" He immediately tensed, but didn't stop what he was doing. His lips drew to a line and he was silent for probably 20 seconds.

"Why you want this?" he said curtly. "You unhappy last time."

"No, I liked it. I just didn't want my underarms shaved."

"This not for normal customer." Apparently he was genuinely hurt by what happened.

"Am I a normal customer?" I asked.

He softened a bit. "Maybe not. You tell me," he probed.

"I'm not sure." There was a long pause between us, before I continued. "Please?" Another pause. "My wife really likes it." Apparently this was the wrong thing to say because his cutting picked up speed. I turned to look at him, being careful not to move too quickly lest I lose an eye to the frantic scissors. I waited for him to share my attention. "I'd like it too," I said softly. And I put my hand on his arm. It was the first time I'd ever touched him other than a greeting.

"You sure you want this?" he said pleadingly.

I wasn't sure what he was asking. While I had ravaged my cock more than a few times thinking about what we might do behind that privacy screen, I really did just want my back shaved. After all, everything else was just in my head. Right?

"I would like this," I responded. That seemed to be enough. Without even finishing, he took my hand and led me around the back. Adem, interestingly, followed this time. Was he being protective? I realized that I hadn't even really taken notice at him holding my hand. Apparently, I was getting more comfortable with him.

As I took off my shirt, I was less shy this time, unbuttoning while facing him. Mesut soon moved around behind me and started working his way down my neck and back, brushing with his off hand as with last time. I still felt amazing, but some of the sexual tension was sucked out this time. It was too business-like. Perhaps it was the expectation that something would happen. You can never recreate magic like that moment exactly the same way twice. Even unbuckling and unbuttoning my pants, just felt like... an expectation. There's nothing less sexy than an expectation. Perhaps this was for the best. I didn't, after all, actually want to have gay sex. I think.

As I would soon discover, I didn't necessarily need to recreate any magic. Adem seemed to be impatient. It was as if he were expecting fireworks and instead got a muted recording of them. "What are you doing?" he finally said. We both looked at him, not knowing what to say.

Adem, then bid Mesut to come over. Then, looking straight at me the whole time, he kissed Mesut deep and hard on the lips. So, maybe there was a bit of passion between them. But why look at me? Adem had never so much made a flirty look at me. He never touched me suggestively. What was going on? Then he pulled off Mesut's shirt and sucked on his nipple. Mesut self-consciously turned toward me in embarrassment. He was actually a bit more muscular than I imagined, with just a thin line of hair from his belly button to his waistline. He wasn't jacked up, just... defined.

Adem wasn't done yet. With no hesitation he pulled Mesut back to him, dropped to his knees and pulled out Mesut's prick. I couldn't quite see it, given that I was behind them. There was no ceremony to it though, like it was robotic. No, like it was aggressive. Was this what they were like with each other? And then I realized that this was for me.

"Why?" I said.

Adem peaked his head out from Mesut's crotch. "Is this not why you come back here?" I couldn't quite place his tone, but it wasn't happy. "Is this not what you want?"

"No! I just wanted... I... I don't... know," I said honestly.

"Your little friend does," Adem commented while looking at my crotch. Oh my, yes that wasn't subtle. Among all the tension, sexual and emotional, my 'little friend' still spoke the truth of the matter. I very much liked this.

"What do you want?" Adem demanded. And then more softly. "It's ok."

Just then Mesut turned fully toward me. "Holy shit." Had I said that out loud? I stared. I just... stared. I couldn't take my eyes off to it. Yes, it was big. Very big actually. Not porn star huge. Just, perfect. Sculpted by Michelangelo just like my wife's breasts. My mouth literally hung open. If I were in a porno somebody would have stuffed a cock into it.

Mesut noticed. He came over to me and placed a hand on my cheek. I lowered my face into it and felt my hand run down his chest and side. My cock was out of its constraints now. We jumped right past all the things I imagined about this happening. In all of my fantasies, it was slow. He would brush it accidentally and reveal it slowly. It was all a tease. But this was different. Adem had just slingshotted us past all that. Mesut pulled my underwear down and it sprung free, bumping into his belly. That was sexy, feeling it pressed against him. He reached down held it in his hand. Not really stroking it, but exploring slowly. That electric touch flowed through me and went straight to my balls.

I felt my hand move toward him. Time froze as I realized I was about to hold another man's cock in my hand. I made brushing contact, and chased it as it slipped away. Grabbing it fully, it was swollen but not hard. Honestly, that was sexy as well. I was surprised how warm it was, and it was silky soft. I mean, I know dicks can have smooth skin, but this was... well, softer than anything I'd ever touched.

As we explored each other, our cocks came together. I was a couple inches shorter than him, but almost as big around. I tried not to think about it as our dicks nestled in his hand side by side, like two canoes on a river. I added my hand over his, encouraging him to stroke. My hand on his was one of the most intimate gestures I could think of except for feeling both of our cocks touching each other. It was a bit hard to take it all in at once, and that's before he placed his hand gently on my chest.

He leaned over and kissed my sternum. Then worked his way down, kneeling slowly, one kiss at a time. Whoa, this was happening. This was going to happen! I looked down, but it was all too disorienting. I felt like I would fall over. I looked at Adem so my eyes could anchor on something that would make the room stop spinning. He was watching with interest, but not touching himself. He was no longer angry or irritated. Apparently, he just wanted to cut through the bullshit. I guess it wasn't all in my head. Of course it wasn't. If all that touching had turned me on, it must have affected them too. I closed my eyes.

Then I felt a tongue under my dick, letting it rest there. Then slowly swirling before lips enveloped the end, working their way down, not all the way, but deep enough. His hand came up to gently massage my balls and shaft. Whooh. He clearly knew what he was doing. As he started into a rhythm, I actually kind of forgot my circumstances. I forgot about the thrill of a forbidden gay encounter. I forgot we were being watched by his boyfriend. I just, felt it all. It was like a drug. Nobody had ever blown me like this before.

I felt myself growing fully hard, that little extra quarter inch when I get close. He sensed it and started deepthroating me. Holy cow. I felt my dick hitting the back of his throat, just like I had fantasized about so many times. It was too much; I was going to blow. I looked down and saw him swallowing me fully, bobbing back and forth the full length each time. He looked up and our eyes met. Then my wife's face appeared over his face. I could see her swallowing me just like that amazing night months ago. What? Back to his face. I was freaking out. What am I doing? I'm married!

The unfamiliarity all came flooding back. What am I thinking? I'm having gay sex. That part... hmmm... actually didn't bother me as much as I thought it would. But I'm cheating on my wife! My perfect wife that I adore and don't deserve. I pulled out, only a few strokes away from filling his throat with cum. I blue balled myself! "I... can't. I just... can't... I'm married... I have to go."

And I ran. I ran pulling up my pants as I stumbled out the back of the store carrying my shirt. What the fuck?!

Chapter 5: Release

I got back to my car, panting, scrambling to get my shirt on. Not from actually being out of breath, just... panicked. CALM DOWN I kept repeating in my head. Oh crap, did someone at work see me running through the parking lot half naked? I wondered if I was having a panic attack. I've always been such a level-headed guy, calm under pressure, not too stressed. Where was this coming from? As I started to gather myself, sitting in the front seat and grabbing the steering wheel, one thought kept creeping back. Why did I ask for him to shave me?

Was I really that stupid to think nothing would happen? Even for a guy from the Midwest with no gaydar, that was naive. But then again, would it have happened if Adem had not intervened? More to the point, is that what I WANTED to happen? This was becoming a pattern. In my head, I was convinced I didn't want this. But time and again, I was acting on some other instinct. My brain wasn't winning.

I started the car to go home. No, that won't work. It's only 11:30, not even lunch. I had to go back into the office. I forced myself to go back and pretend to work, my mind replaying the events now that I was calmer. By 3 pm, I decided I had stayed as long as I could and left for home.

The commute was quick but felt long. The entire 45 minutes my mind ping-ponged back and forth between guilt at cheating on my wife and remembering that amazing feeling as my cock bumped the back of his throat again and again. The look of our dicks side by side in his hand. The feel of his cock in my hand. Now that my panic died down, my thoughts more frequently returned to the erotic portion of our encounter, and my cock stirred again. It was painful actually, not just the thought of how I left but physically, I was so horny that it hurt. I had really left myself blue-balled.

I walked up the apartment door, trying to think what to say. I breathed deep and found her studying at the table again. She looked up and glanced at the clock. "Everything ok?" she asked. I wasn't sure if she was sensing my mood or just noting the early hour. I walked up to her and lifted her chin in my hand. I gave her a soft kiss and she smiled, but didn't respond. I kissed her harder and she obliged but didn't continue.

I took her by the hand and led her out of the chair to stand beside me. She sighed in protest, clearly into her work, but joined me. I hugged her, long and firm. We held the embrace for a dozen seconds. It may not sound like much but that's an intimate hug. I looked deeply into her eyes and kissed her with all my passion and frustration. She turned her head to the side. "I've got work. And dinner's in the oven." I released her, then walked over to the oven and turned it off.

"We can order out," I said.

"Hey, that's a perfectly good roast!" she protested. "I worked hard on that."

I walked up to her and kissed her hard again. She whined and looked at her pile of papers. It's funny, the same passionate kiss turned into epic once-in-a-lifetime sex last time. You just can't recreate spontaneity. Still, I wasn't giving up that easy. I pushed her against the wall and kissed her again, groping under her shirt and pressing my hardness into her. She didn't moan, but didn't object. I worked her pants down and she stepped out of them. I guess she knew it was inevitable. Either that or we would be distant all night. I wanted her so badly. Or maybe I was just horny. Doesn't she know I gave up an epic orgasm to be faithful to her?

Well, not faithful exactly. I guess that ship had sailed. But stopping at the height of passion had to count for something right? Some kind of loyalty and commitment at least? I wanted to throw her on the table, but that wouldn't do. She needed a chance at some foreplay at least. I kissed her neck as my hands made their way into her panties. I worked her vagina, softly at first, then more directly, occasionally tapping on her ever hardening clitoris. My fingers eventually entered her and her juices started flowing.

That was good enough for me. I pushed her back on the table, sending a few papers flying as she meekly protested at the mess I made. I pulled my pants down and thrust my hard dick right in. So much for subtlety. But oh, she felt good. I felt her breasts through her sweater and watched as they bounced back and forth with each thrust. Oh shit, this was going so fast. I could feel my balls tightening already. As I grew closer, my wife sensed my climax coming. I'm not sure exactly how she knows. Perhaps I grow harder, or my muscles tense. Maybe my breathing changes. Maybe all of these above. But feeling me close finally got her fully into it.

She started to lift her hips so I could get really deep, and her breathing came more raggedly. Her arousal was the final straw for me, as I entered the point of no return. I started pumping as deep as I could on each thrust, trying to slow down just a bit so I would give her a chance to orgasm. It didn't work. I came in ropes inside of her, each spasm sending a sharp pain in my balls. I started laughing even before I stopped cumming. It was just too much for one day.

I pulled out even as my spasms were dying down. "Did you come?" I asked. She didn't say anything. Damnit, I hadn't even been a good lover to her.

"I liked it," she said.

"Can I do anything for you?"

"I'm ok." But she didn't get up off the table or reach for her clothes. She just looked at me. "Are YOU ok?"

"Sorry," I said, pulling back from her. "It was just... a lot today. You were good. I needed that. Thank you."

She walked up behind me and ran her fingers down my once again smooth back before wrapping her arms around my stomach. "Honey," she said softly, "is there something you want to tell me?" I bit my lip and looked away. She peered over my shoulder at me for a good long time, but decided not to press the issue. "I'll order dinner," she said.

Chapter 6: The Itch

I had to set this right. I couldn't wait another 3 months to talk to Mesut. Wow, this was really real now, wasn't it? This wasn't just about blowjobs and eroticism. This was a relationship--of sorts anyway. What kind, I had no idea. But there were actual feelings involved on both sides. At minimum, I owed him a conversation.

I walked into the Salon at 10 am, right when the opened. Of course, with my dumb luck there were THREE old ladies in there to get their hair done. As I walked in, Mesut saw me and disappeared behind the screen. Adem stood in the middle of the store as if to block me going further. "He don't want to talk," Adem said. The old ladies looked up at us. Even though we were talking quietly, they could clearly see our body language.

"I just... uhh..." I fumbled for the words. "I wanted to pay."

"It's no charge. We do this for friend," he said accusingly.

"Friend," I repeat eagerly. "Yes, he is my friend. Tell my friend that I'm sorry."

"Friend?" an angry voice says from behind the screen as Mesut walks out. "Sorry?" The hurt on his face is evident as he looks at me. His face down but eyes up. He sputtered out the words. The ladies glanced back and forth at us. On top of it all, I was making his customers uncomfortable. I should have come at another time.

"Friend no..." but he trailed off, frustrated he couldn't find the words.

It was then that I realized that he didn't just take any man back there for a blowjob. I had hurt him.

"I'm sorry Mesut," I said softly as I slowly approached him. "I was... scared."

"You scared?" he said skeptically.

"I'm sorry," I repeated. I dared just a little grin. "Your English is much better." That caught him off guard. He blushed a bit and you could tell he wanted to still be mad. The emotions played out on his face. He softened, but I couldn't tell if he had actually forgiven me. The old ladies looked scandalized. I hoped I hadn't just cost him future business.

"Listen, you look busy. Maybe I'll come back this afternoon?" They shared a glance and then nodded to me.

At the end of my day, I returned to find just one customer finishing up. I'm glad business was picking up for them. Adem and Mesut shared a knowing glance. It was almost as if they had talked about this. Maybe they discussed what they should say to me. But they didn't say anything when I approached. Mesut lifted his chin as if to nod for me to start.

"I'm sorry," I said directly. Silence. Not aggressive silence. Just... waiting for me to explain. "This is all so new to me", I continued. " I don't know how to feel about it."

Mesut gave me a curt "Ok."

"It's not that I didn't like it. I did.... a lot. I'm a bit surprised how fast I've gotten over that part of it." I looked for some hint of their emotion. "The... gay... part." Shoot, had I just offended them? No, it didn't look like it. "I just... I just realized that I don't want to cheat on my wife... errr... I mean that I realized I WAS cheating on my wife." I realized that I hadn't thought of it that way at first. This wasn't me bedding another woman. This wasn't competing for my wife's attention. Still, it was sex with another person without her permission. That WAS cheating.

The emotions must have played out on my face because he softened. "I didn't mean to hurt you," I said. That seemed to land, with both of them. I knew words would not fully make this right though. I stretched out my arms in the universal sign for a hug. He hesitated only slightly before putting his head on my neck and embracing me. It didn't seem sexual this time. It was a real hug between friends. Not that his touch was less electric. Just less... erotic.

Adem placed his hand on my shoulder. "It's hard for you. I can see," he said. I had never seen this softer side of them.

"I need time to think," I said, pulling out of the hug. "It might be a while before I return."

"Ok," is all Mesut said. And we held an uncomfortable moment before I left.

I went two months without a haircut. It was getting hard to control in the morning, curling to its own will. I didn't feel right going somewhere else, but I was worried what would happen if I went back. Making matters worse were my dreams each night. I had been having erotic dreams about Mesut for over a year now, but lately it dominated my sleeping world. I woke so many times with an aching dick and a startled wife as I pressed against her that I feared she wouldn't want to sleep in the same bed anymore. But despite her snarky comments on my morning wood, I could tell she liked it. We had definitely been more amorous lately. A few times I even woke in the night to find us making love, unsure who started it. I accused her of sticking her nipple in my mouth as we slept, but I knew it had to be me.

I loved that we trusted each other enough that she loved these middle of the night sessions, but I was worried I would be dreaming of Mesut and say his name as I made love to her. In truth though, it never felt like they were continuations of a dream about Mesut. These lovemaking sessions were pure of intent as far as I knew. Perhaps it was just the general state of arousal I was in.

That's not to say all my dreams were the wet kind. More disturbingly, I found myself dreaming of just being affectionate with Mesut in a non-sexual way. Maybe disturbing isn't the right word, but it definitely welled up some conflict inside of me. In these dreams, he would just put his head on my shoulder as we sat together, or place his hand on my arm as we talked, or even just greet me with a hug. I didn't know how to feel about all that.

I think I had gotten past the fear of being gay. Is that homophobia? I feel like that's different. Either way, I had come to accept these desires at face value. It didn't make me gay... no that's not right. I guess it's that I just didn't care about labels anymore. I knew what I wanted and what I liked. I wasn't worried about anyone else's fears except those directly involved. Me, Mesut, Adem and my wife.

My wife had been silent on her concerns since she asked me if I had anything to tell her that night. As we caressed in bed one morning -- well, I did most of the caressing... like I said my wife is not a particularly touchy person when she's not making love -- she ruffled her fingers through my unkempt hair. "I think it's time buddy."

"I know." Then she ran her hands up and down my back. It felt wonderful. But was she associating the haircut with the shaved back? Or... was she making a different connection?

I went into the salon at lunchtime. I was actually fairly nervous. Despite our conversation the last time I came to the salon, there was much unresolved, not the least of which was that I still had nightly fantasies about this man. Could I just get a haircut and leave it at that?

Mesut didn't make it weird though. He looked up and paused before smiling like an old friend. That caught me off guard. I mean, I guess he was an old friend now. He gestured for me to sit in my assigned seat. All I could think of was how much I want to give him a hug, like I did so many times in my dreams.

Adem, who walked out from the back said, "Come, you need haircut. You look like baboon that needs brushing." I laughed and smiled at him.

"Thanks Adem, I love you too." His face seemed confused for a moment before he realized I didn't mean that literally, and he relaxed.

As I sat down, Mesut ran his fingers through my thick, long hair and it felt wonderful. Maybe some magic can be recreated time and again. He still had that touch. I looked in his eyes in the mirror and confessed, "I missed you." He looked at me skeptically and ruffled my overgrown mop. My heart skipped a beat as I battled my guilt over betraying my wife with the feelings I had right at this moment.

"Not so much you come get hair cut," he said. There was an edge to his voice, but it wasn't anger. Something had changed between us. It was as if he was friendly to me but keeping me distant so I wouldn't hurt him.

"Mesut," I said softly as I grabbed his hand, "I feel the same way. At least I think we both do. But you have to understand, I'm married."

"So am I."

To whom? Gay marriage was illegal in Turkey. Did he have a wife back home? Just then, I got it. You don't need a church or a magistrate to commit your life to someone.

"Doesn't he... you know... get jealous?"

"Of course, but he love me and want me be happy," he said. Then paused before leaning in close and whispering. "Does wife want you be happy?"

"I don't know if she would understand. Even if she understands the infidelity... I mean, the cheating," I said as he clearly didn't understand the first word. "She thinks I'm straight. I think I'm straight. I mean... what if she leaves me?"

"Then why do you keep coming?" he asked. I started to reply that I needed his haircuts, but that was just an excuse. I was making enough money now I could afford a city stylist.

"Because," I started slowly, "I wanted to see you. I wanted..... to feel your hands on my skin." I couldn't believe the words coming out of my mouth, but for the first time, I think my head and my heart were finally aligned. All this time I thought I had been thinking with my dick, but that wasn't it.

The statement seemed to pierce him like an arrow. He visibly wobbled before stepping back. So we had finally come to it. The real matter at hand. "This is not game," his voice rising to a tense pitch, holding back tears. "I am not sex toy.... I.... I... don't...."

I rose from my seat and came to him, that silly apron flowing around me like a cloak on backwards. I don't know what came over me. I felt like a man dispossessed of his body, watching from above. I came right up to him and kissed him, just like in my dreams. He hesitated only the briefest of moments before returning my passion. It was the first truly intimate thing we had shared. Yes, ok, a blowjob is pretty intimate. But I don't mean sexual. I mean emotionally revealing and raw. I released the kiss and pulled him into a deep hug. I could feel his chest convulsing as I squeezed him. Was he crying?

What was I doing? It was too late to turn back now though. Maybe there was a way I could be faithful and still act on this. I practically picked him up and carried him to the back of the salon, setting up the privacy screen hastily. Adem didn't seem to know what to do, just standing there dumbfounded. I looked around the screen, and said "lock the door."

I returned to Mesut and pulled his shirt over his head, kissing him more gently this time. It wasn't what I expected. It was... well... like kissing a woman really. It felt nice. I ran my hands over his chest, allowing myself for the first time to appreciate his body without feeling conflicted that I shouldn't want this. I kissed the small of his neck and he gasped. He finally seemed to get over his shock and reached for my cock through my pants. It was straining at the seams trying to get out. His hands felt so good through the cloth. He pulled my shirt off and we embraced skin to skin, the sensation flooding my body and brain.

Adem slowly peaked his head around the privacy screen, as if unsure if he should be watching. I held my hand out to him and beckoned him over. He took it and I pulled him around the back of Mesut, making a sandwich of our shared lover. Adem pulled his shirt off, and the summer had given him a deep bronze tan. His furry chest didn't extend down to his stomach, other than a line through his navel. He was toned but not muscular. I grabbed his butt and pulled him toward Mesut, squeezing all three of us together.

Mesut kissed my neck and this put me only inches from Adem's face as we locked eyes. Mesut worked his way down to his knees, kissing at each juncture and leaving me and Adem eye to eye. He freed my cock from its prison and it sprang to life. Then he paused and got serious. "Your wife..." He fumbled for the words. "Is ok?" Perhaps this was the surest sign we had moved beyond lust. He seemed to really care whether I was going to destroy the best thing in my life.

"Maybe we can't do everything. And maybe we have to stop after this, but I need this now," I said firmly. "I will never have peace unless I scratch this itch." I paused though. "I have an idea. Come back up here." What if I did the only thing I can't do with my wife, I thought to myself. I wasn't kidding myself that it wasn't infidelity, but maybe it wasn't fully cheating either.

And just like that it was me slowly descending to my knees, kissing every muscle on the way down. My mouth literally started watering. I had thought of this so many times. I unbuttoned his jeans and slowly pulled the zipper down, spreading the sides wide. He was looking down at me but I was focused on only one thing. You could already see the bulge disappearing off to one side down below the jeans. I pulled them down and Adem supported him as he stepped out.

I looked up at him and we locked eyes. He nodded gently as if to say, 'It's ok.' I ran my hand along the bulge in his boxer briefs, then caressed back and forth with my fingertips. It was intoxicating. I could have done that for minutes, but curiosity got the better of me. I pulled the top of his briefs down and slowly revealed his beautiful cock, one inch at a time. It was a lot of inches and I had to pull the briefs basically off to free him.

It sprang slightly forward but stood hanging down from its own weight. Even though I had seen it before, I was mesmerized. It was easily over 7 inches long and THICK. It was the shape of a pecan roll. Hmmm, maybe nobody knows what that is anymore. The point is it was symmetrically thick all the way from base to head. It didn't really curve to speak of, and ended in a large fleshy helmet peeking out from his foreskin. The color was a smooth and uniform pink from base to tip. While the size was impressive, it just LOOKED heavy. I had to know.

I ran the tips of my fingers on the sensitive underside and got a satisfying spasm in return. I kissed the top side and lifted it in my palm. It WAS heavy. I don't know why but I really just wanted to feel the soft skin on my face. I closed my eyes and let it roll across my forehead and eyes and cheek. It was so wonderfully heavy and soft. I grabbed Mesut's ass and squeezed his muscles, just as Adem rubbed his hard cock against the back of my hand. I gave it a squeeze and a brushing stroke and returned my attention to the cock resting on my nose.

After a moment, I was startled as I felt another dick on my face. Encouraged by my attention, Adem had moved to the side of me and laid his bronzed cock on my other cheek. I had imagined this encounter as a 1 on 1 with Mesut, but I must admit the feel of two cocks on my face was exhilarating. The effect was like a drug. I could feel my inhibition waning as my desire bloomed and pushed away logical thought. Perhaps it was my closed eyes, but the room seemed to start spinning, only I hadn't drunk anything. I reveled in the sensation for I don't know how long. Time sort of disappeared. I opened my mind and let myself feel all the sensations at once, letting my hands touch whatever felt good without thinking about it, feeling my skin come alive and my heart pick up speed.

I wrapped my hand fully around each cock. Mesut's was so large my fingers barely closed on the other end. How would it fit in my mouth? Only one way to find out. I ran my tongue from the middle of the underside to the tip a few times, and felt it starting to engorge. Just then I realized if I didn't act fast, I wouldn't get to feel it grow in my mouth. How many times had I dreamed of that in the last year?

Losing no time, I brought my lips around the head and swallowed as much as I could. It was a pathetic attempt! I barely fit the first three inches! My jaw would need to get much looser if I were to do better than that. As much as I wanted to focus on Mesut, I felt obligated to service Adem as well, not that his cock wasn't perfectly lovely. I kissed his tip and pushed it into my mouth. It wasn't the same transcendent feeling as touching Mesut, but I must admit I could get used to this. I managed to get him almost all the way into my throat, probably 5 inches or so. I guess Mesut was just that much bigger.

Returning my attention to Mesut, I committed to taking him fully. I set up on my knees for a better angle, opened my jaw wide and swallowed every inch I could. I slid him back hard and fast, gagging myself and making my eyes tear up. I still couldn't get him to my throat, but he moaned deeply. I tried again and pushed through the gag, pressing my head forward with force until I need a break to breathe. This was not what I had imagined. I had fantasized about a slow, methodical blowjob where I could lick and suck him like sucking on a summer popsicle. This was intense and honestly a bit degrading, though not through anyone's fault by my own.

Rather than wilt or slow down, it awoke a hunger in me. I craved the pressure of his cock pressing down on my tongue as I swallowed him. I was desperate to consume his full length and feel his cum on the back of my throat. The musical score in my head soared with frantic rhythm as I plunged him again and again into my mouth, gaining scant millimeters more each time. Then I felt his hand under my chin, pulling me upward. 


I slowly rose from my knees, touching and kissing his abs and chest along the way. I kissed him hard and deep, but he put his hand on my chest and pressed away. He didn't say anything, just dipped his head slightly and looked into my eyes as if to pull me out of my trance. I went in to kiss again and he slowed me once more. "It's ok," he said. Take your time. No worry about me. Just enjoy for you."

He gently kissed me and let it build naturally to a soft crescendo. Adem, poor forgotten Adem, joined our kiss, all three tongues intertwined, the rough surfaces grabbing and sliding in our mouths. That was starkly erotic. Adem moved back behind Mesut and kissed his neck while his hands rubbed his chest. I could feel the back of his fingers brush me as our chests were pressed together. He moved them down to Mesut's cock and tapped it against my stomach lightly. I was hungry for more.

As I descended again, he said "slow." I looked up at him as I took him into my mouth. I let myself enjoy the sensation of his beautiful fleshy tip against my tongue. I kissed and licked around the ridges and underside. He was kissing Adem over his shoulder as Adam's hands explored his chest and abs and Mesut caressed my cheek with the back of his fingers. Closing my eyes, I let myself have my popsicle. My frantic hypnosis had been replaced by a calmer but no less powerful trance. I lost not only my inhibitions, but all sense of constraint and consequence. I just wanted to feel. Feel it all. Glory in this while it lasted.

A glow washed over me and penetrated every muscle, bone and pore. I must have relaxed my muscles because I took him much deeper than before. Ironically the contest of deepthroating him must have kept me from being loose enough. I felt him just on the edge of my throat and it made my cock ache. I hadn't thought much about myself since I started, but I was HARD by any standard. I started to wonder if I could cum just from sucking this beautiful cock.

I was beckoned again for a kiss and stayed as our tongues danced. Just two tongues or three? I felt hands on my body. Whose were they? I didn't care. I just wanted to feel. I kissed harder and hands were everywhere now. On my ass, my back, my chest, my cock, my thighs. I lost track of where my hands went as I kissed mindlessly.

Then I felt it. That wasn't a hand. As I kissed Mesut, I distinctly felt a cock on my butt cheek, sliding and with... precum? Saliva? It slid effortlessly across my butt cheeks and then between my legs, then back onto my ass. He reached around and grabbed my cock, spitting on his hand and letting his hand slide up and down.

I lost all sense of control. I had never felt like this, not with anyone. My mind became a flood of desire and hallucination. I imagined myself bent over, hips slamming against my ass as a cock plunged into me, my own cock bouncing like a pendulum with each thrust as I gagged on Mesut's huge cock. I saw half a dozen cocks slapping my face as I looked up from my knees, then a shower of cum from all directions as it covered my eyes, mouth and chest. They sprayed each other and I grabbed them and slid the cum covered cocks between my fingers. I was riding Mesut's dick and grinding my own into his muscular stomach until cum sprayed out across his chest and neck. I was waking in the morning next to him, pressing my dick into his leg and reaching around to stroke him, as Adem spooned behind me and pressed his cock between my legs.

I was swallowing Mesut's huge cock whole, sliding back and forth until he could go no further as he bumped the back of my throat. Only... that wasn't in my head. That was happening! How had I gotten back down to suck him again? I had lost track of reality vs fantasy. I leaned into it, slamming my head forward and pulling his butt toward me. It was everything I imagined.

Unannounced, a pang of reality hit me. Not the guilt or panic this time. I was addicted now. How could I give this up? I said it would be just this one time, but how could I go back now? I had to have this again. I was pulled out of my doubts as I felt his cock grow and harden significantly. This was it, I was going to get my throat orgasm. He got so big I couldn't take him out of my throat anymore. It was either leave him there and bob back and forth just slightly, or take him out and be unable to return.

I bounced him against the back of my throat, pulling back just a bit and doing it again, over and over. I was out of breath. I hoped he came soon. He started vocalizing. I wasn't sure what he was saying. I felt a hand on the back of my head. Was it Mesut? Adem? I didn't care. I swirled my tongue as I felt my throat actually start to stretch. My hands ran up to his abs and across his chest. I could feel him tense. I really needed to breathe, but I couldn't pull back now. And then it happened.

I'm not sure what I expected, but it wasn't this. I felt his gorgeous cock pulsate violently in my mouth but felt no cum at first. It happened 2 or 3 times before I felt it pressing against my throat. It made things slippery and I no longer had trouble keeping him deep. I thought it would feel warm perhaps, but it was the same temperature as my body, so I didn't really feel the cum itself as much as the slickness of it. I plunged him fully in and out, running my lips from tip to... well, as deep as I could take him, as my tongue probed along the way and my hand stroked what I couldn't get in my mouth. The taste was salty and slightly bitter, but not unpleasant.

After what must surely have been 10 seconds of spasming, there was so much cum in my mouth I didn't have room for both his cock and the semen. It spilled out from the sides of my mouth and landed on my thighs and some even on my cock, which twitched with delight. I swear a single touch at this point would send me over the edge. I don't know how long he came, but he must have had some pent up desire, because he was still hard and giving little jerks. I became vaguely aware of his vocalizations, which were slow and happy. I opened my eyes, and I let him pull out to the front of my mouth, but didn't let go.

He finally started to soften to a firm rubbery feel. I let him slide from my mouth and his cock stood straight outwards at me. Still firm with only a slight bend. It was the sexiest I had ever seen it and instantly I wanted to start over again. I must have breathed at some point, but I don't remember it. I also must have swallowed at some point without realizing it, but could feel the coolness of his cum running down my chin. He got down on his knees and looked at me eye to eye. He seemed like he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.

Instead, he kissed me deeply and slowly, the taste of his cum still on my tongue as we shared it. As I exited my trance I realized that Adem had been neglected. I think Mesut was stroking him as I sucked, but he was going to need some release. Mesut pulled on Adem's cock and brought it between the two of us. Then he kissed my lips and rubbed the cock between our mouths.

We made out right there with a dick between us. It must have lasted...5...10 minutes? I grabbed Adam's ass once in a while or fondled his scrotum. I touched Mesut's neck and chest. But mostly I was just lost in kissing, sucking and licking as I remained in my full body glow, a mixture of stunned exhilaration with blissful contentment. It was a drug that no chemical could re-create.

As I felt Adem harden, Mesut took over. I thought perhaps we might share a shower of cum over our faces, but that would have to wait for another time, as he consumed Adem's cock like a sword swallower. I was mesmerized has he made it completely disappear. Adem tensed and grunted, pulling the back of Mesut's head and thrusting forward. He was completely buried already, but he still bucked his hips. After he stopped spasming, he pulled out and joined us on the floor. We each collapsed to the carpet and across each other.

After a minute of endorphin-fueled daze, I looked down at the carpet and said "Well, that's going to need to be steam cleaned." All of us burst out laughing, breaking the tension and bringing us back to the reality of the salon in daylight.

I got up and started to put my shirt on. "Wait," Mesut said. And indicated to take my shirt off. Then he proceeded to shave my back, and yes, my privates. He also cleaned up the stray hairs that he hadn't finished cutting on my head. After we got dressed, I gave Mesut a kiss and then hugged Adem from the side, leaning my head into his. Perhaps I didn't have the chemistry with him that I did with Mesut, but he was growing on me, and had just given me a fuck I would never forget. That was worth... well... a special place in my memories at least.

Mesut walked me toward the front of the store and unlocked it, turning back on the Open sign. I chuckled. "What happen next?" he asked.

I paused as I considered. Had I scratched my itch? I don't think so. I think I just opened a giant gash that needed regular attention. I couldn't do this though. It would tear my marriage apart, even if I managed to keep it a secret. I needed to stick to my plan. "I think we need to stop. I don't want to, but... it's unfair to my wife. And I'm not sure she would understand."

He looked down. Then rested his forehead on my chest. In a moment of panic, I looked around to make sure nobody saw us through the window. The street was empty for the moment. I lifted his chin in my hand. "This isn't goodbye," I said. "Not if you don't want it to be. Can we still be friends?"

He made a pfff sound.

"I'll be back. I'll come get my hair cut," I said. He gave a pained smile. I continued, "Maybe the shaves are a bit more than I can handle. But I could still come see you."

He just looked at me for a dozen heartbeats, though those were coming a bit faster. "Ok," he said, and he gave a hint of a smile. "Ok, I like that."

I scanned the street one more time, and then gave him a gentle kiss. "See you soon."

Chapter 7: Dancing

"I love you."

My wife looked up from the stack of papers on the table in front of her. "I love you too, hon," she said absentmindedly as she refocused.

I walked up to her, gave her a deep kiss and said, "You're not listening. I... love... you," and handed her a bouquet of flowers. I could always get them half price on Fridays because anything that went unsold went in the trash bin.

She smiled thoughtfully and said "aww, thanks babe." She patted me on the butt and added, "Can you put those in some water? I have to present this in lab on Monday and I have so much to do."

There was nothing to be done about it. My wife is never one to put off til tomorrow what can be done today. The only way forward was to let her get through her reading so she could give me her attention.

So I set about making dinner. In between stirring and baking, I straightened up, started laundry, vacuumed and tidied up the kitchen. As the baked ziti was about to come out of the oven, I raided the closet where we store our handful of special wine bottles. I chose a 9 year old Barolo and poured two glasses. My wife was getting close to the end of her paper pile.

"How is it going?"

"This is so frustrating," she replied. "They want me to present on the latest in antibody therapeutics, but most of the drugs are based on unpublished research. I've found some stuff, but you know they're going to grill me."

"They were going to grill you anyway. That's the whole point, to find out whether you know your stuff or not." I handed her a glass of wine.

"Thanks honey," she sipped casually and then stopped. "Whoa. Is this...?"

"Yep."

"What's the occasion?"

"I told you. I love you."

She gave me a studied look before replying, "Your hair looks nice." I sipped some more wine and almost did a spit-take when she said, "Did your Turkish boyfriend cut it?" I managed to hold the wine in and pretend that I was about to say something rather than spit wine all over her.

"I... uh... made us a nice dinner. Baked Ziti."

"Ooh," she said, standing up from the table. "And what made you... Hey!" she exclaimed looking around,. You've been busy. I think someone's looking to get lucky tonight."

"Well, it IS a Friday."

"We don't open fancy wine every Friday." She looked at me and must have decided whatever my reasons, she was on board. "Come here my loving man." She wrapped her arm around my waist and took a sip of wine. "What's the plan tonight?"

"Well, I have this lovely dinner here, and I thought we could go dancing."

Her eyes lit up. "REALLY?! Oh, I've got just the outfit!" She ran upstairs to change.

"Hey! Dinner's ready!" But it was too late.

Around 9 pm, we walked a few blocks to a local Latin bar. There were half a dozen couples milling about the well-lit room, waiting for their dance instruction. My wife's excitement was palpable. She LOVES dancing. Here's a tip for all you guys. Almost every woman loves dancing and flowers. It's a surefire way to make a woman happy. She removed her coat and set it on a barstool. Now I see what she was so excited about. She had a backless, bright red shirt on, held on with just a few spaghetti strings. I could see every muscle from her shoulder blades to the arch leading to her butt, which was looking nice and tightly plump in some well-fitting black slacks. She was a sexy woman.

The instructions were, as usual, useless. We followed along with the 1-2-3 rhythm of the teacher until we had it down and felt confident we would not look like fools. We were wrong of course. Once the instructions were over and the lights turned down, the music was about 5 times as fast. Nobody could do 1-2-3 that fast. They'd look like they were having a seizure. So I just kinda moved to the music and so did my wife.

I hate dancing. I'm not overly coordinated and only a few guys really look good doing it. So there I was, in a Latin salsa bar, doing the white guy overbite dance. But here's the thing, dancing is not about the man. It's about sex. I don't mean twerking or copping a feel during the slow dance. Women love to dance because it's foreplay. They love to touch bodies and hands. Be close and be manhandled. They love moving their hips and seeing you move too.

Salsa dancing has a culture of sharing your partner. At least 5 men asked to dance with my wife, and it would be rude to turn them down. Apparently, the red shirt got more people's attention than just mine. Sometimes I danced with the man's partner and peeked over my shoulder to watch her. Sometimes I grabbed a drink and just watched her move and make eye contact with another man. It was sexy, though I must admit that a tall, thin Spanish fellow named Alonzo made me more than a bit jealous.

She danced with him long enough that I got a bit uncomfortable. His hands explored her hips and went she went behind the crowd I could have sworn they went elsewhere as well. She knew what she was doing too, as she made sure to look at me when it got extra spicy. After he spun her into his chest, she ran her fingers straight down his back and actually rested them just below the belt line on the top of his butt. Oh yes, she knew exactly what she was doing.

As we walked back home, I said "Looks like you made a new friend."

She giggled.

"Did you have fun?" I asked. She just held my hand and pressed her body just a bit closer than she had on the way there. Perhaps it was a chill on the wind, but more likely it was the mood the night had put her in.

"Thank you," she said as we walked.

"I love you," I whispered. In response, she nuzzled her cold nose on my cheek.

When we got in the front door, she practically ripped my clothes off, attacking me with kisses and grabbing my ass. Then she placed the most mischievous look on her face and grabbed my dick through my pants. She wasted little time with that, unzipping my pants and dropping them before bending over and sucking my semi-hard cock with no warning. Where did this come from? This was not at all like the woman I married. Did I mention dancing is foreplay? Apparently it worked.

The little red excuse for a shirt didn't last 30 seconds, getting tossed aside as I groped her butt and sucked her nipple. She pulled her pants down and walked me over to the chair, turning around and placing her ass right in front of my prick. The message was clear.

My wife's ass is one of the great, understated pleasures in life. It's not one of those tiny butts you see strutting around in spandex. But it's shapely and muscular, and when you pound your hips against it, it's like a trampoline made for fucking. And I pounded. By the end she was gasping for breath and biting the couch pillow to keep from screaming any louder. I thrust for all I was worth and as she crescendo'd for the third time in just a few minutes, I felt myself well up for a massive orgasm. I could feel my left leg start to shake.

My wife knows me too well though. "Oh no, you don't," she declared, pulling away and leaving no room for debate. "I've got plans for you tonight."

"Oh I'm so close!" She just put her finger over my lips as if to shush me.

"Go run us a shower."

I did as I was bidden, and she put her hair up in a clip to keep it dry as the water got warm. Stepping in, she soaped up and then handed the loofa over to do her back. I always love this part. My hard dick pressed against her slippery bottom and I reached around to massage her breasts, letting them slide between my fingers. Damn she was sexy. In return, she reached back and stroked my soap-slickened dick. This was not helping me keep from cumming.

I turned her around but now her breasts were sliding all over my chest. That wasn't much better at calming me down. Then she took the shower head and washed me off. Giving me a sly look, she dropped down and put my cock in her mouth, sucking and licking. I was already so close, I was going to cum any second. I decided if I couldn't stop it, I might as well get my money's worth.

I pulled her up, spun her around and bent her over in a way that invited no argument. Then I plunged into her. She was still wet after three orgasms. I wasted no time going slow, but pounded away. I was on the verge of cumming from my very first thrust, but for some reason it stretched for probably a full minute with me tensed and breathing raggedly before it all came out. I let out a garbled "AAAAUGGGGGHH" at the top of my lungs, releasing rope after rope of semen inside of her. My wife responded to my excitement and started to cum herself. I had cum so hard I didn't know if I could keep going, but I couldn't leave her hanging. I pounded time after time as she came, even as I went numb, but my cock stayed hard. Man I had been horny. I was STILL horny!

She turned around and kissed me while grabbing my manhood and washing it clean. "You were supposed to hold off Mister."

"You didn't seem to mind so much."

"What about my plans?" she asked.

"I guess you'll just have to convince him to get hard again." And with that, she gave me a firm squeeze before washing herself off.

After drying off, we retired to bed, and she curled up against my chest as I lay on my back. For all my bluster about going at it again, I didn't actually expect that. I mean, people always want more in the heat of the moment, but once you come down off that high, you're not quite so insatiable. I gave a happy sigh and lay there in contentment, knowing that at some point I would start to snore since I was on my back, and she would gently roll me over and we would sleep apart. But until then, I loved this part. My favorite place to be.

I didn't realize I had started to drift off until I felt a warm, wet sensation on my soft dick. I opened my eyes to see my wife on her knees on the bed, sucking away. She looked up at me and said, "it's not bedtime yet."

My wife was an amazing dick sucker. She had done it so often when we were first married that she got TMJ in her jaw. The conversation with the doctor was hilarious. He said it was -- how did he put it -- "not uncommon in young couples." In other words, he knew exactly why she was getting TMJ, and she was going to have to cut back a bit. Since then, it's a bit of a rare treat.

"I need to take you dancing more often," I said.

"Or you need to clean the apartment more often," she retorted with a twinkle in her eye. After a few more minutes of attention, my dick was fully awake and just as hard as earlier. "Oh my goodness, how are you so hard so soon? It's only been a half hour. I didn't answer, but she apparently didn't need one.

She climbed up on top of me and sank slowly down on my sword, moaning with delight. Oh my, you ARE hard. I couldn't believe she wanted more. She had already cum 4 times. Apparently, she was just getting warmed up because she came three more times just riding me, the third time so hard that the neighbors banged on the wall. The sexiness of it all meant I couldn't hold back anymore. I came with her in a flood of sensation as she ground hard against my ultra-sensitive dick, spurting so hard that it squirted out onto my belly. It was so much that we both started laughing right in the middle of her orgasm. The neighbors banged on the wall again as she collapsed to the side of me, still giggling and giving me that amazing look of total love and obsession.

After washing off, we returned to bed and spooned contentedly. I could hear her breathing pattern shift to sleep even as I ran my hands across her smooth skin. I loved that she was so comfortable with me that she could sleep even being touched like that. As amazing as sex is, this is the one place I never wanted to leave. I stroked her skin until I was almost asleep myself, but right as I started to drift, she unconsciously pressed her ass into my dick in a circular motion and sighed. Wow. Again? My dick was hard AGAIN? Well, I thought, at least I could return the favor.

I moved my hand to her bush and rubbed softly. She gave a half-awake moan. I reached around with my head and kissed her soft breasts on the side. Slowly I kissed her side as I worked my way down and place my head between her legs, rolling her to her back. She breathed in quickly as my tongue started its work. "Again?" she said.

I worked my tongue around her labia, dancing as if to a song. Fast then slow. Quick flicks followed by long slow licks. She was fully awake now, moving and moaning with my every kiss. When I thought she was getting close, I brought my finger up just to tease her entrance, eliciting an audible gasp. She started moving her chest back and forth as my tongue made quick circles. After probably 10 minutes of this, she started getting visibly close. Her legs clamped around my shoulders. Her breathing came in quick groups, followed by forgetting to breathe.

"Don't stop, don't stop, I'm close," she said. I didn't stop, but I did slow. Just a slow lick every few seconds. She whined in a way that begged me to make her cum without saying the words. I kept her like that for at least 2 minutes before I could tell she was about to cum even if I completely stopped, then I rammed two fingers all the way insides, feeling the inside of her pussy, while licking and sucking as fast and as hard as I could. She screamed and spasmed. Another knock came from the neighbors. As her hips bucked and she bit the pillow, I thought, we really need to get our own house.

Even before the last spasm, she pulled me up to her urgently, again kissing me without washing off. Was this a new thing for us? Did she like it now? I wasn't complaining. "I want you in me now," she demanded.

"It's ok, I'm happy. I've already cum twice tonight," I replied.

"I'm not asking," she said as she pulled me in while pushing down her pelvis to meet me at the same time. While I wasn't as rock hard as I had been the first two times, I was plenty hard to feel my dick hit the back wall of her chamber. God! That felt good! I just did that over and over again. Not ramming in and out. Just slowly and gently pressing into the back of her insides until I felt a pressure pushing back. Then pulling out just an inch or two and doing it again. She was already moaning after just a few seconds. I resisted the urge to pick up the pace, but this seemed to be the perfect rhythm for her. She pulled her knees up and placed her palms on my bottom and pulled me in deeper, now really pressing hard into her insides.

Unlike the screaming orgasms before, she scrunched her brow up and held her breath as she slowly convulsed. But instead of dying down, it just fed itself as she instantly built toward another orgasm. I couldn't believe how much my wife was cumming. It was like fish in a feeding frenzy. She wrapped her legs tightly around me and dug her heels into the back of my thighs as she came again and then again. As a fourth one approached, it became too much for me. I clenched a little harder and a little longer on each thrust. We climaxed together, silently gasping for breath as it lasted what seemed forever. Maybe 30 seconds? That's a long time to cum if you think about it, though realistically she had cum almost non-stop for several minutes!

This time, there was not sweet kisses and tender touches. She pushed me away, exhausted, trying to catch her breath. She patted my chest and within only a minute or two was asleep, not even getting up to wash off. Endorphins are amazing. I dozed off not long after.

When I woke in the morning, my wife was on her side, eyes awake, studying me in the soft light through the window.

"Wow, you were something last night," I said.

"It was ok, I suppose," she said wryly.

I kissed her on the cheek, then the nose, and the brow. She smiled contentedly, basking in my affection as she rolled onto her back. The tops of her breasts peeked out from the white comforter, almost revealing her areola. I sidled up and let my fingers brushed her skin just above the line of the covers. She is so soft and warm in the mornings. I kissed the side of one breast as I let my fingers work their way across the top of the other, eventually pushing the covers down to just barely reveal her nipple. "Didn't you get enough last night lover boy?" She asked.

"Never." I replied, with no intention of actually following through.

But as we lay there over the next half hour, my hands wandered all over her skin, under and over the blankets. I explored her angular hip bone and the beautiful curve into her side. I felt her soft inner thigh and brushed her bush lightly and then let my fingers lightly explore her tummy. She squirmed as I had tickled her unintentionally. I ran the back of my hand on the soft side of her breast, down her side to her hips. I started to stir again. I pressed my hardness into her side, expecting her to resist or give a snarky comment. To my surprise, she pressed right back into me.

I began touching her more urgently. Clearly this was not just cuddling anymore. I worked my fingers around her vagina until I felt her become wet. Then I bent over and sucked on her nipple. She let out a long breath and I felt her nipple harden. Then I pushed two fingers into her, as deep as they would go, explore every corner of her insides. She gasped and then held her breath. That was a sure fire way to push her over the edge to wanting me.

She pulled on my shoulders to get me on top of her, and guided me inside of her. "Go easy on me, I'm a bit sore," she whispered. I gently pushed in and out as she looked up into my eyes. As she got closer, she pulled me down for kisses. I knew she was really close when she forgot about kissing and turned her head to the side. Her breathing became unsteady and she started holding her breath for a stroke or two, and then forgot to breath entirely before letting out a sustained "nnnnnnhhhhhhhhh."

I started slowing my pace until she seemed done, and then held inside of her for a minute or so, never softening. I whispered sweet nothings into her ear as I started pushing again, telling her how beautiful and sexy she was and what a lucky man I was. She put her hand on my butt and started making soft moaning noises. This wasn't her cumming again though. She knows I get excited by her being excited and she wanted me to cum. My wife was pretty good at faking pleasure. I imagine she could fool me if she wanted to. But I don't think she did it too often. We both knew this was about making me cum. She didn't want it to be over so much as she wanted to please me. And it worked.

As I built toward orgasm, she looked up at me with that amazing look of total adoration and then I lost eye contact, as I plunged my head to the side and into the pillow, biting it so I wouldn't scream. The prior night's orgasms only serving to make it more visceral, as the pain and pleasure mixed. After my convulsions stopped, I slide to the side onto my stomach and she kissed me softly.

We lay there for several minutes, not speaking, as she ran her hands up and down my smoothly shaven back. "Did you finally get enough mister sex addict? I don't think I'll need sex again for a month!"

"I was thinking we could have a go again after breakfast," I retorted.

She let out a flabbergasted grunt. "The neighbors might have us evicted if we do that!" We both giggled at the thought of them trying to sleep through our antics.

"I suppose I haven't made you cum that much since... our first year together maybe?"

She looked at me thoughtfully for a while, a tiny hint of a smile on her face, as she ran her hand along my skin. "Your back feels nice," she said.

"You like it?"

She nodded. Then she got that thoughtful look on her face again. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

Outwardly I didn't react. At least I didn't think so. But inside I panicked. She knew! But... she didn't seem to mind. She fucked my brains out. How many times did she cum? A dozen? No, more I think.

Apparently I didn't have quite the poker face I thought I did, because she put her hand on my cheek and said "Hey," in a soft whisper. "This is me." I didn't say anything. I couldn't think of what to say. "I mean," she continued, "I just don't know what to think. Every time you go get your haircut, you come home amorous. Every time you get your back shaved you come home and fuck my brains out."

Nothing. I couldn't make myself say anything. Of course she figured it out. I wasn't exactly subtle about it.

"Are you.... are you.... gay?" she asked. "Or bisexual?"

I responded with a heavy sigh. Apparently this set her on edge a bit. "Listen, when is the last time you saw me check out a guy?" I asked.

She thought for a minute. "I haven't..."

"Exactly, never. And how often have you seen me checking out girls?"

"Way too often," she replied. "But, what about... this..."

Another sigh. "I... I don't like guys. But... I do like being touched by... him. He's got nice hands. I..." Suddenly I felt overwhelming guilt at my cheating. I had to say something. I had to say something or she would never trust me again anyway.

"Before now, it's just been that, just touching. Yesterday, it went a bit further. Not sex or anything. It's just... well... I guess because it was a guy it didn't feel like cheating. But if it was with a woman, you definitely wouldn't approve."

"And it's ok because he's a guy?" Her previous temperance was gone. Clearly there was hurt in her voice.

"No... No... It's not. It took me a bit to realize that, and I stopped. That's why I was so damn horny when I got home because I stopped."

"So you didn't actually want me last night? Were you picturing fucking your Turkish boyfriend?!"

"No, no! I wanted you. I don't want him that way! It's not like that."

"It sure seems like that!"

Damnit. What had I done? I decided to try to de-escalate. "Did it feel like I was anything but totally head over heels in love with you last night?"

That seemed to catch her anger on her tongue. She didn't know what to say. It didn't make everything all right, but it did seem to take the bite out of her argument.

As I lay there wondering what I could say, she rose and quickly threw on some clothes. For a minute, I worried she would run out of the apartment. But she just paused in the bedroom doorway and asked what I wanted for breakfast, without looking back.

"I can help make it," I said.

"That's ok, I want some alone time." And she walked down to the kitchen.

Chapter 8: The Aftermath

Over the following weeks, we didn't really talk about it. I was afraid to bring it up and she clearly didn't want to either. She also didn't want to have sex. It was almost a month before we joined in bed again. She was clearly horny, but it almost felt transactional. I could feel the love there, and there must have been a lot of love or she would have left. But the love also seemed tinged with something. It wasn't quite anger. More like... sadness.

As weeks turned to months, things seemed to go back to normal. From the outside, you wouldn't think anything was wrong. Our sex turned back to once a week. Then several times a week. Was I forgiven? In some ways, the not knowing was worse. And I was still scared to talk about it.

From time to time, I walked past the salon, but I couldn't bring myself to go in. I was torn, as I genuinely cared about my friend. Well, my friends really. But I couldn't give up my marriage for that. I'm not sure if they saw me walking by or not.

But as winter turned into spring, I walked by and the salon was gone! It was just gone. The chairs were gone, the shades in the window. Even the open sign. Just a "For lease" sign in the front door. I felt a conflicting well of emotions. My friend! I didn't know how to reach him. How did we not even know each other's phone numbers? I didn't even know his last name to find him on social media! How does that happen? But alongside the grief was the relief that I wouldn't be tempted anymore. Tempted to sin. Tempted to cheat on my wife. Tempted to like something I didn't want to like.

I walked up to the door, looking for clues of what might have happened or where they could have gone. I mean, I'm surprised they stayed in business as long as they did really. It was almost never busy in there. The only clue I could find was the phone number for the leasing office. I called it as I peered in through the front door. Just an answering machine. I considered leaving a message, but couldn't bring myself to do it.

Almost as if fate had ordained it, the very next Saturday morning, my wife and I lay there, post coitus, and out of the blue she said, "You never really answered my question."

I worried I knew what she meant, but I needed to be sure. "What question?" I asked innocently.

"Are you bisexual?"

"No. I don't... I don't think so. I don't know.... What does that mean?"

She started to answer but I continued. "Obviously I did things that are... were... kinda... gay. But I..." She cut me off.

"What exactly did you do?" She looked at me intently. She may have had 6 months to come to terms with this, but she was still hurt.

"He sucked," I cut off abruptly, unable to speak the words. But 'he sucked' doesn't need a lot of elaboration. "... and I sucked," I continued before trailing off. I didn't have the bravery to tell her about Adem, so I just left that out.

"So does this mean you're bisexual?"

"Why do we have to label it?"

"Because I need to know if you're going to want to have sex with other guys."

"No! Well, I mean, I don't think so." She seemed skeptical, so I elaborated. "I kinda like the idea of a dick. It's sexy." I looked to her as if she would confirm that, yes, dicks were universally sexy. No such luck. "I certainly don't want anal sex," I continued. "And I've never been attracted to guys. That hasn't changed." She looked at me skeptically. "I mean, just the one guy" I said sheepishly. "Even then, it feels weird when we kissed, or..." I broke off, feeling uncomfortable even talking about that.

That definitely got her attention. I hadn't told her I kissed him before.

"Listen, you don't have to worry about me liking other guys," I said. "It was just Mesut. And I haven't seen him again. As fate would have it, I can't see him again anyway. He's gone." I couldn't quite hide the tremor in my voice despite my best attempts.

"What?" She sounded genuinely curious, and I think she picked up on my hurt.

"I don't know. The shop is just closed. No warning. No number. He's just gone." Before she could answer I continued. "So you don't need to worry about me having sex with other guys." She looked at me silently. I couldn't discern what she was thinking. "It doesn't matter anyway. I want YOU. I wouldn't cheat on you with Mesut just like I wouldn't cheat on you with another woman."

She started to retort before I cut her off. "Obviously, I did cheat. I'm sorry. I never said that properly. I'm sorry. But I want you. I want our marriage. I've built my life around you so much that it's not even MY life anymore. It's ours and I can't untangle where I end and you begin." Nothing. No response. No expression her face. It was torture! Way worse than anything she could have said.

Then she did something utterly shocking. She ran her hand along my hairy back. Why would this be shocking? Because she hadn't done that since the morning of our argument. It was like it was a symbol of my infidelity or maybe my gayness. She didn't say anything and she didn't linger. Her mood didn't seem angry. It wasn't sad. But I couldn't place it. I sensed she was pondering something. For some reason my mind wandered to that epic night of sex when she first felt my back shaved. I wondered if maybe she was remembering it as well. I must say, we fucked like rabbits that night. I'm not sure we'll ever top that. Not just that night, but the whole year or so when I was going to get my hair cut. The sex was amazing. How could I get that back?

She rose again, not bothering to cover up, but not in an unsexy 'you've seen me a million times' way that married couples do. She had a bit of sway in her hips. Just a hint of sexiness to her stride. And without a word, she went downstairs to make breakfast. I wasn't sure if I was out of the doghouse, but SOMETHING seemed to have changed.

Life went on pretty much as normal. As the semester neared its end, she got extra busy. The class she was teaching as a grad student instructor required grading and it creeped into our shared time. She didn't really have classes of her own anymore. It was all in lab. Sometimes I would join her, making sure the zebrafish were mating as they were supposed to. It was a lot easier once they realized they could get them on a normal human schedule. They breed at night, so my wife used to have to go in really early and really late to check on them. That is, until they realized that they could just cover the windows and make it dark during the daytime and light at night, so grad students could have normal human hours. Amazing how dumb PhD's can be sometimes. Once she finished finals, her schedule eased up a bit. It's not like grad students get the summer off, but at least she didn't have the extra workload.

One morning, she even made me lunch to take with me to work. "Aw, thanks sweetie! What is it?" I said as I gave her a peck on the cheek. Things had been better between us. It hadn't fully recovered, but I think for the first time, I realized we would be alright. "You'll see when you get there," she replied. "I'll see you tonight," and she added an uncharacteristic wink as she blew me a kiss.

At lunch, I went to the refrigerator in the break room and found my lunch tote. I pulled out the Tupperware to microwave it, and found a sticky note on the lid. It just read 916-555-0869. Nothing else. Weird. I looked up the area code for 916. Sacramento. 'You'll see when you get there,' she had said. The Tupperware was empty. This was no coincidence. I looked back at the post-it note. I had to. I pulled out my phone. I'm not sure how but I knew. A lump formed in my throat as I dialed the number.

The phone picked up. "Istanbul Salon," a man answered, "This is Adem."