A Dilemma

"Why not Tom? His grin had disappeared and he looked genuinely rather puzzled

I realised that maybe he'd sought and expected a different answer to his original question but so keen was I now to end my embarrassment by closing the subject once more, that I had no ear for such subtleties.

"I just don't Michael. It was a moment of madness when I was drunk as a skunk and I'd rather nobody knew about it, least of all the kids. Please respect that."

Yet he persisted,

"But you've got no reason to be ashamed of anything Tom. Don't you think they're old enough to understand? If that was the way you felt at the time, then that was the way you felt; and let's face it, we were both pretty pissed at the time and one does strange things when pissed. Either way, there's no reason to feel ashamed or embarrassed, I'm certain they couldn't care less about it - they just want their dad to be happy."

The last remark sounded like me talking about my kids and once again, he was demonstrating more maturity than I was feeling. It also appeared that he'd taken my answers as confirmation of whatever it was he thought about my orientation.

"Well I'm not proud of myself Michael and don't really know what came over me, I guess it was just because I was plastered; but I'd still rather forget it ever happened and I don't want anyone else to know about it."

Hardly pausing for thought, Michael's suggestion in response was both quick and to the point,

"That's a shame . . . . 'cos I don't want to forget it ever happened . . . . why should we forget something that I think we both enjoyed?"

His directness staggered me and I was still thinking about a response to that when he went on,

The thing is Tom, have you ever thought . . . . er . . . . that it might have been 'in vino veritas'? You know . . . . . that it was something you subconsciously fancied doing and found that being pissed-up was the perfect excuse for having done it?"

What he was suggesting was perhaps a little too close to the possibility that I'd been considering myself, yet it seemed I still wasn't opening up to him as I'd promised myself to do.

The conversation thus died un-answered at that stage, as the smoke from the joint began to take its euphoric effect on both of us.

Indeed, it was only after we'd finished smoking and both been lying back in the inevitable silent post-joint contemplation, that I properly reflected on his intuitive questions; and at last began to let my mind honestly examine my actions and reactions. Eventually, I ventured the question,

"What you were saying earlier about 'in vino veritas' Michael, what sort of 'veritas' were you getting at?"

I knew the answer but I wanted him to provide me with an 'in' to ask him more about it. I felt like a nervous child which knew it should have been able to work things out for itself but needed reassurance.

"Well . . . it's a bit difficult to describe really - what with your having been so adamant about it never happening again . . . . . Look, maybe I was wrong."

"How do you mean 'wrong'? "

He looked over at the table and indicated the remains of the joint.

"Is there any chance of our having another one of those Tom? I find they loosen the tongue and inhibitions . . . . and just at the moment I think that's what I need before we go much further . . . ."

"I guess we both do actually mate. I think the time's come for both of us to talk a little more openly and honestly about things and for my part, I want to identify and clarify what actually is on my mind - and I think I might need your help to do it."

I set about rolling the spliff and as I did so, I continued,

"Let me make a start while I roll this. As you say, perhaps another smoke might lubricate our tongues a bit! Otherwise, I suspect we're just going to beat about the bush all night. I went on,

"Now, you've always confessed to being bi Michael - that's right isn't it?"

"Well yeah . . . ." he drawled - but then with almost indecent haste, "But of the two, I prefer women."

His response sounded vaguely defensive, as if he weren't fully convinced in what he was saying.

"OK, understood. But from what I've heard, you probably not only understand, but can explain more about any sort of bi elements of what I mean. I'm like a fucking novice at that game and I need some help . . . but only if you swear this conversation goes no further than between us two?"

I'd tried to introduce a little levity; but like a job interview applicant, I was nervously trying to think what exactly I wanted to say without committing myself too far and too early in a wrong direction.

He emphatically confirmed,

"Trust me Tom, I promise you that absolutely nothing will go beyond us and this room."

I took a discernable deep breath and started with a statement.

"To put it mildly, you've been pretty sexually provocative towards me just lately. Not only have your remarks frequently been loaded with embarrassing innuendo but you've always publicly insisted on sitting next to me whether inside the house or out in the garden."

"Fair comment." This time there was no flippant response. He was taking what I said seriously and it encouraged me to go further,

"And then, on top of all that, there've been at least two incidents when you've been caught exploring my body when I was asleep. I say 'at least', because they're the only two I know about and only then, because others have told me about them. Or do you deny any of that?"

"No . . . . I don't deny it . . . . no point really, I've already admitted most of it. But yes, since you're suggesting we're both going to be completely honest and open, then yes, I'd better come clean and tell you there were a couple of other occasions you may not know about ..."

He didn't elaborate at first and his ensuing look seemed to invite my further enquiry, so I said lamely,

"Ah, I see. And what were those other incidents Michael - and why did they occur?"

A long silence ensued and I was just about to light the joint when he eventually responded. It came out in a rush,

"One of them was when I took a couple of photos of what's inside your jeans and the other was when I actually did explore your crotch when nobody else was about . . . and I had a really good play with your dick. You started getting hard when I reached under to play with your balls and I was really beginning to enjoy myself but I think you might have been too drunk and what I was doing had less and less effect until your penis eventually went down . . .! I wanted to suck you to make your cock hard again but you were lying at too odd an angle, so I reluctantly gave up!"

He really coloured up then and looked incredibly embarrassed . . . yet also, I thought, a little excited . . . but also worried, presumably lest my response might be negative. It wasn't. I just said nothing for a moment, because the way he'd referred to my 'penis' had sent an unexpected frisson of excitement through me.

In growing nervousness, I tried to brush over the matter with an inane response,

"Oh, I see." But I felt I too must be colouring up.

We smoked companionably for a few minutes and when I took the joint back, I went on with gange-fuelled confidence,

"Well you see Michael, the thing is that if I'm also going to be equally honest and open, your behaviour has in fact been having an effect on me and one which I don't readily recognise."

I cleared my throat and handing the joint back to him, went on,

"I've been what could be described as a bit of a whoremonger all my life and I've always been heavily into women - so it's come as a bit of a shock to accept that your continual provocation seems to have aroused in me a side which I'd never in my wildest dreams have known existed."

Almost there, I thought. Could I get the rest of it out though? I needn't have worried, for Michael provided me with not just understanding but also the opening to go on.

"I know what you're talking about Tom, so don't worry by telling me more unless you feel you have to . . . . I think I recognise in you a great deal more than you may perhaps understand about yourself . . . . and please don't take it as me trying to be presumptuous in saying that. It's rather nice really and I'm glad I wasn't wrong all that time ago. I think you just needed time to come to terms with it and it sounds as if that's what you've now done."

I glanced at him with a questioning look,

"OK then Michael. I'll accept that maybe you're right in what you think, so I'll come straight with you about things . . . but I repeat that I really want this to remain absolutely between ourselves. Is that understood and agreed?"

"Absolutely Tom, I swear it won't go beyond this room."

"Well as I said, your behaviour has been having a growing effect on me. You must have noticed it in the way I've let you get away with things which I would never allow in others.

"Basically, I think you realise I have a great affection for you and you've probably realised better than I that it's not just the kind of paternal affection I have for most of your mates who come here. I greatly enjoy the many conversations we have - to be honest, you're a pretty well-informed conversationalist and we cover a great many topics. Not only that but I've noticed you always pull your weight around the house, particularly when it comes to clearing up after parties. More to the point in this context though is that I now recognise whatever affection I may have, it seems to have sexual connotations as well - which is probably why I didn't react with outrage whenever you've found excuses to 'accidentally' touch me. It's also why I didn't go bananas when I found out about the other 'events' when I've been asleep."

"Yes, I can see that Tom and I'm glad you want to bring it out into the open for discussion. Please don't be embarrassed to talk about it. I'm not going to say anything to anyone else, believe me. It's just that, as I just said, I've always felt maybe it's time you were honest with yourself."

I digested what he'd said for two or three minutes while I finished the joint and he made no further move to rush me. He just lay there with a gentle smile on his face and waited for me to go on.

I remembered something and changed the subject slightly,

"D'you know Michael, I saw you pulling your jeans up one of your legs one morning after a party just recently and couldn't help noticing that your old man had slipped down the other leg of your boxers. You seemed to take a hell of a long time lifting the other leg into your jeans - almost as if you knew I could see . . . . and boy, could I see absolutely everything! For some reason I couldn't stop myself looking and if I'm honest, I was actually a bit disappointed when you eventually stood to pull your jeans up the other leg and my view ended."

Did I really say that?

He replied very quietly, "And if you remember Tom, the night before when some of the girls were talking about what they had on underneath their jeans, I made a point of saying that I'd got a very baggy pair of boxers under mine and that my old man kept falling down one leg of them. Draw your own conclusions about why I should have said that Tom . . . . but I thought I saw you having a good look. I was even very tempted to just sit there and let you view me for as long as I wanted . . . . at your leisure!" He chuckled gently and said, "I wish I had now. It might have brought things on a lot earlier."

He went on,

"You may as well know that all this started a while back when you brought early morning tea in for some of us one day after a party. I was lying on my side on this very sofa and when you bent down to put my mug on the table in front of me, the fly on your boxers opened enough for me to see your penis about a foot from my face."

I felt another frisson at the way he said 'penis'.

"Then, because I also love cock as well as women, I'd often wondered what you'd got in there and suddenly, there it was! Anyway, and what with seeing it so close . . . . well, you know about me being bi and all . . . . it . . . . er, it just turned me on something rotten and - and I got a hard on straight away. I remember hoping you might have stood like that on purpose so's I could have a good view?"

I had no recollection of the incident, so it had most definitely not been done on purpose. I didn't quite know what to say in response and although surprised, I was not shocked. Instead I felt a twinge of excitement at realising just how long he'd been feeling like this about me. I also felt a little more than flattered that I should be sexually attractive to one of his age.

I sat there thinking for a few more moments while considering my next remark. As I did so, my eyes roved aimlessly around the room and eventually alighted on the pile of his clothes beside the sofa. With a start I noted this time, what I hadn't noticed before - that his boxers were topping the pile.

Without thinking what my question might lead to, I asked in full innocence,

"Are those your boxers down there Michael?"

He lethargically looked at the pile and as its significance dawned on him, he slowly drawled,

"Yeah. . . . ." a momentary silence, then he went on with an innocent grin, ". . . . why do you ask?"

"Oh, it's nothing really, just that I thought you lot always slept in at least your boxers, if not your jeans as well, or if you're Pete, even fully-clothed."

Another thoughtful silence. Then,

"Yeah . . . . well I do usually wear just boxers," he replied, before repeating with emphasis, ". . . . usually."

"Oh, I see."

"Do you . . . . . . really?"

"Well yeah . . . " I suddenly clicked what he was getting at and despite the gange, I felt myself colour up at the realisation.

"I mean . . . . erm . . . . look, I don't really know what I meant actually. I was just passing the time and trying to keep the conversation going."

A weak response I realised; and then thought to myself - fuck it, why not just come out with what I now meant?

"So . . . . I suppose that means you've got nothing on under that duvet?"

"Yeah . . . . ." He lazily replied but with confidence. He stared at me for a moment or two, as if challenging me to go further. He then said very slowly in a quiet, almost confidential tone,

"I'm naked as you like under there Tom." He nodded down at the duvet and I felt a sexual rush.

This time I wasn't going to let him win and raising my glance to stare straight into his eyes, I heard myself say equally quietly but in bantering fashion,

"Naked as I like then are you? Now that's an interesting statement to make Michael boy . . . . . naked as I like eh? What makes you think there's any way I'd like you to be naked under there then Michael?" I emphasised the 'I' throughout.

As I gained confidence in my speech, so surprisingly, did he also seem to redden in obvious arousal. Like me, his voice was slightly shaky now and what he said next came out in similar mode,

"Why do you er, . . . say it like that then . . . . er, Tom?"

With growing confidence now I'd made a decision, I continued banteringly,

"Well, I was just wondering why you'd say 'naked as you like'. I repeat, what makes you think, I'd enjoy your being 'naked as I like' then Michael?"

He made no reply and just lay there on the sofa, staring at me . . . but I could see that he was beginning to tremble now. He was definitely as aroused as I was.

"Well now Michael, here's a thing - I never thought for a moment that I'd ever hear myself saying something like this to anyone other than a woman but perhaps . . . . . well, you never know . . . perhaps, I might just like it."

To him, the previous victim of his banter must now seem to be turning into the predator and I could see he was actually enjoying this reversal of roles. He was excited by it and his eventual response confirmed it, because this time he sounded almost defensive,

"I don't know really. It was just a figure of speech. I mean . . . "

I stared even harder at him and half closed my eyes. I was committed now, whether or not I might later wish that I hadn't been.

"As I said just now, perhaps I do like it Michael . . . perhaps I really would like to see you naked. You know, with everything you have purposely exposed for me so I can have a really good look at you at last. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I realise that actually is what I want to see. So what would you think of that then?"

I went on without waiting for an answer,

"Well, there's only one way for me to prove what I'm saying, isn't there? We have to put it to the test and you'll have to lift that duvet and show me now Michael . . . you know, prove to me that you're what you say you are - completely naked . . . or perhaps you're too shy to back up your provocation?"

Without moving my stare from his eyes, I indicated the sofa with my right hand and gestured in a raising motion.

"Just lift the duvet Michael and show me how naked you are . . . . let's face it matey, you apparently saw everything I've got and even took photos! But in your case you did it without me knowing didn't you? Now I want you to return the compliment but with one difference - you'll know what's going on and you'll be aware of doing it . . . . in fact you'll actually be offering your cock to me - knowingly and willingly!"

My heart was beating increasingly fast now and I sensed rather than saw the shake in my pointing hand. I now really did want to see what I'd fondled but never yet seen and my inhibitions had fled in light of my fast growing arousal.

"Are you . . . . are you absolutely sure about this Tom?"

He enunciated the words slowly and hesitantly, as if he was wary of what would be my answer . . . or perhaps, hopeful.

I said nothing for a few moments, just carried on staring directly at his eyes.

Then I responded huskily,

"Yes Michael . . . . but please do it before I wake up to what I'm saying and walk away from the lasciviously evil thoughts going through my mind . . . "

Hardly daring to breathe, I almost whispered,

"Let's face it Michael, we both know I've fondled you . . . . now I want to have a good uninterrupted look at what it is that I really loved feeling that night. Go on, please just lift up the duvet and let me see everything you've got under it."

With neither of us diverting our stares from the other's eyes, I sensed his hand move slightly through my peripheral vision. It hesitated for a moment and then, as if in final surrender, reached out to a corner of the duvet and shakily raised it sufficiently to show he was totally naked beneath. Visibly shaking now, he dropped the duvet behind him and lay there half on his side, with everything exposed for me. He wanted me to look.

I broke my gaze from his now heavily blushing face and let it slowly run down to scan the spreading flush of his neck and shoulders, before looking at his still developing young body. I took in every detail of his nipples and the tight stomach muscles below, before my gaze slid down to fixate on the fork of his legs and I drank in the sight of his beautiful penis surrounded by a small mat of soft dark brown hair and his balls nestling beneath.

The now visibly enlarging shaft slipped down to rest the long foreskin that I'd felt that night across his left upper thigh and I was transfixed with lust. The hypnotic vision of that pink, almost pale purple glans thrusting its way out from his foreskin was sexy beyond belief and my cock twitched in my jeans at the sight.

At that particular moment I recognised that I was every bit as turned on by sight of his beautiful naked body and its delicious appendage, as I am by sight of a naked woman and the promise of her body - no more but certainly, no less at this stage.

Without the side-show of partial clothing, the erotic allure of speculating what might be underneath tends to be absent in favour of pure aesthetic appreciation. Thus Michael's complete nudity allowed my eyes to appreciate the beauty of his form, just as the complete nudity of a woman allows my mind to consume and appreciate her unfettered loveliness - no immediate distractions, just simple aesthetic appreciation.