First Gay Love Encounter with Bisexual Partner (Erotic Adult Content)


These are a couple of pieces that I cut out of an abandoned project.  I was trying my hand at speaking in the voice of a gay man.  I have to set up the scenes so you can get a feel of what is actually going on between these two. James is rather young and naïve, and just coming to terms with his homosexual feelings.  Richard is a player who has been around a few blocks.

male flesh to flesh


(James is the narrator, describing past events that occurred several years earlier.  He admired Richard as his mentor. He is ten years Richard’s junior and they met in Law School, three years before Richard’s wife, Theresa, was killed.  They used to party together when in Law School.  Richard hired James as his Personal Assistant, and James dropped out of Law School to become Richard’s right hand man.  Richard finishes Law School, becomes a big wheeler-dealer and a major player in Orange County politics. Richard occupies a large family home in Thornton Park in downtown Orlando.  James has been living in the apartment over Richard’s garage.  James is a brilliant young man, with a knack for investments, finance, organization, and planning. [eventually you’ll get to the erotic part, Ha!])

In coming to know him better over the course of many conversations, his brilliant mind was further exposed to me. Each evening, we recounted the day, speaking on family matters, politics and current events. We had become like partners, both domestic and business. However, when I retired to my quarters quite late each evening, there was always an enormous sense of unfulfilled craving. Being so intimately close to him without the ability to touch him with the passion that I was feeling inside was my silent torment, not allowing myself to be solicitous; remaining guarded in that private passion.

I tempered my passions with morning workouts in the gym, keeping my youthful body lean and muscular. It was no infatuation that I held for Richard. As any young man my age, I was as hot-blooded as the next, but convinced myself that I needed no other. Waking dreams, I had, of his fingers tracing the folds of my skin, his lips touching my flesh, the warmth of his body next to mine. In my room without him, each night he was there, imaginatively. Each day, I was at his beaconed call. I was deeply in love.

Early one morning at sunrise, I had returned from the YMCA after an intense workout at spinning. My body soaked in perspiration; I set about checking the oil in the old BMW before heading upstairs to shower. I felt myself being watched and glanced toward the house to see Richard standing behind the curtain to the French doors of the upper deck, and quickly glanced away. He lingered there for what seemed an eternity, observing. I had his attention in a most unusual manner. It was obvious that he was admiring me as I worked. I was enjoying his attention. After tinkering some time with the BMW, I started moving a small load of firewood from the patio to the garage. I purposely flexed my muscles in the rising sunlight as I worked to lift and carry the load of wood in my arms. I felt the beads of sweat running traces along my physique.

In the midst of my project, Richard stepped from behind the curtain into full view and moments later stepped out onto the deck. He smiled down at me, “You are in fine form this morning, James.”

His forwardness startled me and I dropped my load. My moist chest and arms were covered with dirt and debris from the wood I had been carrying.

“Yes, sir, thank you, sir,” was all I could mutter, as he made his way down the stairs toward me.

I felt myself a silly fool, for flexing, for posing so intently to keep him occupied in watch of myself. I started to squat to gather the logs. He stopped me with his hand tightly clasped on my shoulder, came closer, and then wiped my chest clean with long deliberate strokes of his hand.

“Leave it there, go shower, and then meet me in the study. I have an assignment for you,” he calmly spoke.

I raced upstairs and quickly into the shower, feeling his hand on my chest again in the private comfort found there. As I washed myself clean, I felt his hand wipe the perspiration soaked debris from my chest. I felt the depth and the length of his strokes. I felt an undeniable intent. He had touched me intimately and with purpose. The tepid water rushed over my lathered body to cool my fever. I am discursive here now as I write only to suggest that I sensed there was a mutual affection on that day.

Suited for the day ahead of me, I hurriedly splashed on cologne and found my way to the study after a quick stop into the kitchen for coffee. He was comfortably seated in a large leather chair in wait of my arrival. I poured and prepared his coffee.

He stood and picked up his cup, but did not drink. He began pacing before speaking.

“I want you to find us another place,” he spoke, finally.

“Another place?” I questioned in response. I was very focused on the fact that his choice in the word us was endearingly inclusive.

“Yes, another place for us to live together. I want something with less family ambition, a condo, an apartment, something more suitable for us. I want to lighten your work load for other purposes, and limit the maintenance required.”

He continued, “I want something in vogue, more modern, less traditional. Find us something bright and contemporary overlooking the skyline. I would desire space for entertaining, with an office where we two can work. Find something new, fresh, and young in spirit. Secure a convenient location. It should be both luxuriously expansive, yet conveniently cozy. Do so as it pleases you. Let me know when it is ready.”

This was unexpected. I was too stunned to speak. It had been three years since Theresa’s death, and he was finally speaking as if my place with him was now as significant as hers had once been, or more so. I did feel very important, I cannot deny. I felt as if I was being better recognized for my true value to him as a significant other.

(Richard has just had James rent a penthouse apartment at The Waverly overlooking Lake Eola in Orlando where the two of them can entertain clients. He has not yet spent the night in his new apartment.  He has been looking for a nanny to care for his two children.  James has been in charge of preparing the new apartment and doing the interviews for the nanny. James selected a lady who has just left their apartment after a small dinner party.)

Richard had stretched out on the sofa and I sat at his feet.  He was gloating over the dinner party and how nicely things had turned out with the newly hired nanny, Lydia, when I had to remind him, “This is on your salary and mine, and let us not forget how very well this ingenious employee has managed your investments and mine over these past few years. The house on Lake Lancaster will sell for near a million this year, I am certain. The insurance company finally settled on Theresa’s policy. I haven’t had time to discuss that with you.”

“Thanks for the info, but I really don’t want to discuss it now either,” Richard replied.

“Yes, sir, boss, I understand.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Call me sir like that, or boss. I have told you this before. It rings of subjected superiority, not friendship. We have been friends far too long for that.”

“I call you sir because it is respectful, especially in the company of others. It’s a habit that I will try to avoid in private, if it pleases you to do so.”

“Good, that’s your job, pleasing me, I am glad that we have that understanding.”  There was something sultry in the way he spoke to me.

“The lines are blurred there, aren’t they; between what is friendship and what is my job, what is personal and what is professional?”

“I won’t deny that to some degree the lines are blurred. I would say that we have a unique relationship, James, we always have. Is it troubling you?”

I could not begin to tell him the many thoughts that were troubling me about our relationship, or my personal feelings. I could not find the words necessary to convey my true feelings at that point in time, because I was so very confused about what I was feeling about our relationship. I found myself absentmindedly rubbing his socked feet, and he did not seem to mind in the least.

His speech was tired as he started with pleasant remarks that were not well supported by enthusiasm, “She’s very interesting, this Lydia, and I must say, stimulating in a most seductive sort of way.”

“Yes, she is both, interesting and stimulating.”

“Could you draw me a bath?”

“Yes, of course, you plan to stay the night over?”

“That would be nice, I think, to spend my first night here. I would like to shower and quickly off to bed, but I am wrought with tension after this work week and a long soaking hot bath would be more relaxing. Do we have an alarm clock here?”

“Yes we do, sir,” I smugly responded.

“Oh stop it already! Could you Nair® the hair on my back too?” Richard asked.

“Could I what?” I questioned, not certain that I had heard him correctly.

“In the foyer closet there is a small bag from Walgreen’s with a bottle of Nair® hair removal lotion. I’m going out to Cypress Cove tomorrow, and I would like to shed myself of my Neanderthal look before I go out that way to visit with some old friends.”

“Isn’t that the nudist resort you took me to some many years ago, when we were in Law School together?”

“Yep, that’s it. It’s a place where the triumphs and tribulations of my work a week world matter less, and I can escape the embrace of persons wishing to find ways to spend my time. I need the rest, relaxation and recreation.”

“How poetic of you. Are you insinuating that I occupy too much of your time?”

“No, I’m not insinuating. I just need an escape. Are you going to run me a bath?”

“Yes, sir, and I do believe that I am going to learn how to Nair® the hair on your back.”

“Very well, then.”

I pushed his feet aside and arose to fetch the bag from the closet. Trying to read the bottle label in the dark of the room was impossible. I went into the bathroom, lit several candles, and began to fill the huge Roman tub with warm water. Over the sound of the running water I did not hear him enter the room, completely nude. He touched my shoulder. Startled by his approach, I dropped the bottle and bent to pick it up from the floor. Stout and lean, I saw his beautiful nude body before me. I felt my face flush on admiration. I know that he noticed the color come into my face.

“Come on now, get used to it if you are going to live here with me. I prefer the uninhibited release found in shedding my outer skin after a long day in a suit. You must have seen me nude a thousand times. Why the blushing now?”

“I have seen you nude, sir, but not so very close unless we were intoxicated with booze and women some many years ago,” I responded, looking over the bottle label.

“Don’t bother with reading the label. I have done this before and I don’t think there are any instructions for this on the label.”

He stepped down into the water, slowly sinking his way into the far corner of the vast tub. “Ah, yes, the water is perfect. The day is done and the night is young,” he remarked as he relaxed to rest his head onto the inflatable surround that I had placed into the tub. “You had best come out of that nice shirt if you are to do this right,” he advised.

Not wanting to appear shy after all we had been through together, I stripped down to my silk boxers. I could not have counted the number of times we had woken up naked together, years ago, with two or three women between us. This was different. This was he and I, and very much alone.

He splashed the water on his face and neck, lathered his chest, rolled over to rinse, and crawled back to my side of the tub. With his back to me, he instructed, “Now rub a thin layer of lotion across my shoulders and any hairy spots you see down my arms and back. Is there enough light?”

“The light is fine, I can see,” I lied as I felt his skin beneath my fingertips. The room was hot and steamy. I felt the cold sweat trickling over my heated skin. I barely touched him, smoothing the lotion over any spot of hair my fingers found. It was a delicate and tender touch.

“Yes, that’s right. Do you have a watch?”

“Here on the counter.”

“Check the time and give me twenty minutes before you rinse, okay?”

It seemed an eternity, those twenty minutes. I sat quietly on the tub step, allowing him the pleasure of serenity while he soaked. He lay there with his folded arms resting his chin, and his backside stretched out before me.

After twenty minutes, I scooped the warm water in doubled hands to rinse his back and shoulders, gently wiping away any residue.

“Ah, that feels wonderful,” he swooned.

I continued.

With his back and shoulders rinsed free from hair and lotion, I began to massage his scalp with my fingers, then to his neck, shoulders, and back kneading his flesh in my hands. He continued to moan and mumbled something incoherent. I felt his knotted muscles melt under my massage, deepened and lengthened my strokes.  White steam rose from the warm bath in the cool room.

He rolled over onto his back in the water so that my hands were stretched across his chest, and as I went to withdraw he pulled me back into place asking me to continue. I lingered there in place as he began to rub my forearms with his own wet hands, and then up to my shoulders, pulling me closer toward him.

It was only a matter of moments before he pulled strongly at me to enter the tub with him, shorts and all. Very nervous, I hesitated and pulled slightly back from him. He gave a gentle comforting force of tug against my mild resistance to let me know that his intentions were deliberate. He wanted me there close to him. It was an irresistible moment when I found myself given over to him, so easily weakened. He pulled me close beside him and over to the far side of the tub again. He held me there embraced.  I felt as if I were captured in a gathering storm cloud far above the world as I knew it.

He put his hands to each side of my face and began to explore my face with his hands. People do not touch your face without intimate intent. He whispered to me, “You are so very beautiful, man, with your smooth, unblemished skin,” as he brought my face up against his own. “May I kiss your lips?”

He need not have asked so courteously. I was ready for him and pressed my face into his to be met with his reciprocal nudges of encouragement. I felt his tongue enter my mouth, hotter than the water around us. I let him take me long and deep into that first intended kiss, his hands still holding my face there, smoothing and supporting.

I heard my own speechless voice in mind telling me, “There should be no shame in this so beautiful between us.”

Pulling back from his kiss, I licked at his face and neck and found myself consumed with desire. He felt my passion and encouraged me with his soft moans. He arched his back to bring himself slightly out of the water. Down his chest, I continued kissing, finding my way to his groin. With my body sliding against his down deeper into the water between his legs, I then lifted his thighs in hands to reach his moist scrotum with mouth. He was cleanly shaven and sensitive to the touch of my tongue to his skin, my lips to his most tender flesh. His hard was visibly pulsing as I went down on him to the back of my throat, caressing his shaft rhythmically in my slow release. His hands still cupping my face, and aiding me in keeping my rhythm, again and again, to take him in and release. I brought my hands up to grasp his cock firm and favorable, playfully suckling him, as I stroked his organ and thighs.

He rolled over in the water away from me, rose up and pushed my young and feverish body back onto the inflated pillow I had placed in the tub when I prepared the bath. Quickly, my shorts were slid down my legs and off. His hand found the small bottle of Eros® on the ledge and he doused his hands with the lubricant. My swollen cock was on fire in his slick hands. He squeezed me so and ran his fingers to stroke and tease at my rim. I wanted to hold back and found that I could not. I felt my cum escape in a forceful flow of ecstasy. With my eyes closed in that moment, there was a blue fire mental rush of blankness, and when I opened them to see him smiling at me, I wanted only for him to feel pleasure in such release.

He splashed the water over me and motioned for me to turn over onto the pillow. He had smoothed his silken cock with the lubricant and teased me with his cock and fingers until I begged him to come into me. First with his finger, I felt him pierce slightly pushing pressure against me. He then bent over to bite at me with his mouth, pushing my cheeks apart to gnaw at my rim. I felt him teasing me again with his tongue and fingers. I was orally commanding him to come into me when I felt his long hard penis pierce my tender folds ever so slightly. Easy and ever so slight the pressure moved deeper inside.

He asked if I was okay. I groaned and moaned with the pleasure almost unto pain as he pushed deeper beyond that second sphincter. He was up in the house, and I was enthralled as he began sliding nearly out of me, and into me again, while gripping tight my pelvis. Water splashed about my face with every forceful thrust, thereafter. I was paralyzed, unable to move. It was like nothing I had ever experienced with a woman, with his flesh inside of mine. The intense pressure was pulsing throughout my entire body in rhythmic waves, ebbing and cresting, with his action. He became very verbal with this action, and shared that he was about to cum into me. It was sheer rapture when he did. He was spent in that moment and fell softly against my back, entwined. My body was quivering with his body quivering against mine. We lay there in silence for several minutes, embraced in the warmth of the water and in the warmth of each other. Neither spoke. No words were needed. There was nothing that needed to be said. We had finally crossed the line of a long elusive boundary.

About S.K. Nicholls

is a steel magnolia from GA who currently resides with her rocket scientist husband in Central Florida. Even though she had a reputation as the class clown in grade school, she managed to successfully achieve a career in nursing that spanned thirty-five years. Putting down the stethoscope and picking up the pen, she started writing compelling, thought-provoking historic novels and riveting contemporary crime romps, telling it like it was and telling it like it is. Orphaned from her mother at an early age, she survived foster care, and in her youth resided in an orphanage in the North GA Mountains, the Ethel Harpst Home. Four adults call her mom and four little people call her grandmother. She enjoys reading, comedy shows, salt-water fishing, boating, and brewing Kombucha. Her family owns and operates one of the oldest and largest nudist resorts in the nation located in Florida, Cypress Cove.

17 comments on “First Gay Love Encounter with Bisexual Partner (Erotic Adult Content)

  1. OMG, where did that come from!!! Talk about a different voice, lol. Great job. I think we should all carry these on but we may need pseudonyms, I’ll be Harriet Monsoon, whats yours? 😉

  2. Wowzer. That was a very well written story. I might need a cold shower now 🙂

  3. Started reading it, but have to take a breather! Whoo! I need a drink and will continue in a bit……Okay now that was a good read…thanks! 🙂

  4. Wooo! Steamy. This was really well written.

Penny for your thoughts (we won't resell them)

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s


Decades of her words.

J and I Publishing

Creative Color Book Publications

Tony Flye


Everything Indie

Supporting Indie Authors with Tips, Reviews, and Services


Community manager for ReviewCreep.com - Exposure Platform for Wordpress Review Bloggers

Barbarian Writer

A Story For The Æons


Five true stories, every five weeks.

You Knew What I Meant

Errors and Intentions


Alexander Chee

harm·less drudg·ery

defining the words that define us

Bending Genre

Essays on Creative Nonfiction

Antariksh Yatra

Journeys in Space, Time and the Imagination

The Task at Hand

A Writer's On-Going Search for Just the Right Words

Mashed Radish

everyday etymology


Is this gentleman bothering you?

Cuaderno Inédito

Notes & advice for writers & editors by Julie Schwietert Collazo.

%d bloggers like this: