Date: Mon, 12 Mar 2001 18:21:13 -0800 (PST)
From: Bill Thomas <hottoppop@yahoo.com>
Subject: Falling In Love Again

If you do not wish to read about sex between men, or
it is against the law for you to do so, then don't do
it.

This series started out as a story telling experience.
It has become therapy of sorts, I guess.  I have rid
myself of many old skeletons ratteling around in my
closet.  It has also brought me great pleasure.  The
variety of responses received has been a pleasant
surprise to me.  The best thing that has happened is
that my first response was from a most wonderful man.
He has become my editor, my friend and soon, I hope,
my lover!  He has urged me on when the writing became
slow and at times, very painful.

I had just found out about a gay chat room that my old
MAC would support. I had had many man-to-man
experiences in my youth and I had loved one man many
years ago.  Since Carl, there had been some two
thousand brief encounters of the finest kind, but I
never knew the name of even one of these men. I was
and am still very much "in the closet."  Indeed I am a
Dad, real time, am married and have three children and
two grandchildren.  I had met in chat one younger man
who was looking for a DAD; he was forty-one.  We were
writing regularly, but he lived half a continent away.
One day in mid April, 1999, I signed on as "TopPop"
and had a few responses from younger guys.  They
seemed "needy".  While exciting, they were also
looking for cyber sex and I wanted conversation that
afternoon.  Looking over the list, there was one that
seemed to beckon me.

The handle was FireplugNavyPop.  The "Fireplug" was
what puzzled me.  Was this someone who was built like
one or was it someone who wanted to be used as one?
I had responded just once to a request to shower a
younger man in the woods where I go for anonymous sex.
That experience had left me feeling sad and sure that
this was not an activity I wished to repeat. On the
other hand, I like rugged, strong men and I like men
in military uniforms.  I typed out a greeting to the
NavyPop and asked what the name meant. The response
was brief and well written, and here began a three
hour encounter on the net.  At the end of this, I was
told that I was part of an experiment.  Jay had
doubted that he would find a nice person in chat who
was intelligent enough to carry on a conversation
without being "vulgar."  He told me that I had proved
him wrong.

Both of us found that we have many things in common.
We were both well-educated, secure in our lives,
interested in music, the arts, travel and so many
other similar things. NavyPop is in his late forties,
I am in my late fifties. However, NavyPop is
exclusively gay and very open and proud.  In addition,
NavyPop has had some military training and is very
much into body-building; he is a man's man. We shared
information about childhood experiences, how we had
grown to manhood, and some, but not too many details
of our current sex lives. I withheld the information
that I am married.  While I soon would have enjoyed
some cyber sex, Jay, his real name, made it obvious
that he did not wish to participate.  Jay gave his
"stats" as short, heavy, very muscular, shaved head. I
described himself as being 5'7" tall, 175 pounds in
weight, a shaved head, and a warm, friendly smile.
Neither of us gave any information on our equipment.
It was obvious that if there was to be a follow up
conversation, that I had best play by the rules that
the NavyPop had established. It was clearly evident
that Jay was principled and abided by a strict code of
personal ethics.  I had grown up in an abusive home,
and often still do whatever is necessary to survive.
Two rounds of E-mail followed and a date was made to
meet in chat. As the friendship grew, Jay realized
just how much of a tremendous survivor I am, and it
was this quality, along with a quick mind, sensitivity
to the world and those around me, a sense of humor
that caused him to continue our cyber friendship. At
least, this is what he said later.

It was not long into the friendship before Jay made it
clear that he would "never" knowingly engage in any
kind of sex with a married man.  Yet I wanted to get
to know this man on the other end of the wire.  I
wanted to know Jay as a friend and as a lover even
though several hundred miles separated the two of us.

I soon decided that if this was ever to be a
possibility, that I had best tell Jay the whole truth.
It was in the second long chat conversation that I
told Jay I was married.  I explained that my marriage
had taken place at age twenty-three.  It was at the
urgings of my first and only lover; Carl was also then
a married man and in his late thirties.  The
circumstances of the marriage, although understood,
did not matter to Jay; marriage was a commitment and
as such, it was to be honored. I had to tell him about
physical, emotional and the sexual abuse I endured as
a child and how Carl had helped me. Jay almost signed
off, but something, whatever, prevented him from doing
so and I knew I was on borrowed time.  I then wrote
the following, "One more shoe to drop."  Jay's
response was "What is it - and it had better be good?"
 I began to talk about something that still was a raw
sore on what was, by then, an almost "perfect life".
Just a year before, I had been diagnosed with and then
operated on in July for a very aggressive malignant
tumor in my Prostate.  I had had Cancer and believed
then that I had been cured.  I still believe that; I
have to believe that.  While other treatments had been
explored, surgery was my choice, then and it would be
now.  That day, however, I was thinking that it had
been the wrong one.  While totally continent, I was
mostly impotent.  Sensations existed still in the head
of my cock and it felt like it was erect, but one
glance down told a different story.  I was hurt,
frustrated, angry and full of self-doubts about my
manhood.  An intelligent man, I had believed it when I
had told my doctor that life was more important and
that being impotent would be difficult, but that it
would not cause a crisis in my life.  The talk was
easy; the living with being a half-man was far more
difficult than I had ever imagined.  I wrote all of
this to Jay and told him that while I was doing so,
tears were running down my cheeks.  This must have
melted Jay's heart; he later told me that he knew then
that he could not just walk away.  He offered me what
assurance he could; he said that to him, the state of
a man's erection was not the most significant aspect
of his appreciation for the man himself.

Again, the E-mail continued and it was with eager
anticipation that I wrote about an early Christmas
present.  The doctor had given me a sample of Viagra
and told me to try sex for the first time with my
wife. Jay wished me "Good Luck!"  I had not told the
doctor that I had tried masturbation on several
occasions and that two weeks before, I had even been
to the park, my favorite place for anonymous sex. In
fact, I had not shared any details of "my other life"
with the doctor. Jay, I knew, also would not approve
of casual sex, so I kept this to myself.  This had
been an especially rewarding occasion. I had met again
the guy who had drained my last load of cum just two
days before surgery.  We had had sex several times
before that.  The guy had immediately recognized me
and had come on to me quickly.  I had to tell him why
I had been absent from the walking trails.

The guy, an older man, just kissed me gently on the
cheek, dropped to his knees and gently undid my belt,
lowered my jeans and boxers and took me into his
mouth. A very gentle tung explored under the foreskin
of the four inch limp cock that now laid on the guy's
tongue. To me, it was a magical moment.  I was
responding and it was physical.

My cock began to swell and to lengthen; it felt
fantastic, no - even better than that.  While, as the
doctor would say not sufficient for penetration,
indeed I had an erection.  I knew that it would be
shorter by about the length of the prostate gland that
had been removed, but I was, once again, a man in
charge.  I could not hold back the tears that came to
my eyes.  The guy looked up into my face and wondered
if I was is pain.  It was then that I began that age
old movement. My cock head was once again in charge
and the fuck began.  The guy, realizing what was
happening, that a re-birth was taking place, let me do
whatever I wanted. While gentle at first, the
emotional backlog, the passion that had been withheld
for months ran away with my body and I began a deep
and rapid assault on the guy who knelt before me.  I
felt hands caressing my ass cheeks, massaging grasping
and pulling me even deeper into that hot, wet face
hole.  It was not long before  my ball sac tightened
and a climax began.  It felt strange.  It was hotter,
more fire like and it lasted longer.  Ejaculation
spasms tensed my entire body. It was not the same and
it never would be; but it was good, very good. I
grabbed the guy's head and held it fast so that the
man could not move his tongue along my very tender
cock head that I kept buried deep in his throat.  This
also steadied me on my feet; I was close to falling
back.  I once again felt like a man.  Slowly, I
withdrew from the face in front of me and the guy
stood and told me that he himself had had the same
surgery two years before and that he was totally
impotent.  He wanted me to know how much he had shared
in my overcoming.

The next major hurdle would be intercourse.  There was
to be a romantic weekend away on the Cape.  I got up
early, swallowed the Viagra and returned to bed where
I lay, watching the clock and waiting for the forty to
sixty minutes leading to peak effect to pass.  My
reading and information gathered in a support group
had indicated that the drug would not be effective.
Never the less, I woke my wife and began foreplay.  At
first, Lois was startled.  It was the first move that
I, her husband, had made towards her since first being
informed in May of the cancer that had invaded my
body. She was apprehensive, not wanting to hurt "her
man."  Even if I say so myself, I am a skilled and
talented lover.  I have most always put her pleasure
before my own.  The passion grew but not in direct
proportion to the man tool that lay between us.
Gentle caressing by Lois only brought my cock to a
semi-hard state. I indicated to Lois that she should
assume the cowgirl position and in this way I hoped
that the additional wetness and pressure on my cock
would bring it to further hardness. Lois began to rock
slowly back and forth and then to slide her clit up
and down my semi erect cock.  She had given up all
hope that there ever again would ever be this kind of
pleasure in our marriage.  The doctor had warned that
my cancer was very aggressive and that he doubted if
he would be able to leave any of the nerves that
traveled across the Prostate.  Yet, in between her
legs, she could feel me. I, the husband, caressed,
kissed and twisted her nipples.  One hand wandered in
between my belly and hers and tried to force my cock
head into her but it would not happen.  In her mind,
Lois did not care.  This was great sex and much much
more that she had expected.  She began to moan and to
piston herself back and forth on me. Shortly, she
cried out and I, her man, knew that at least she had
had that pleasure that was to be denied me.  Once
again, I was frustrated beyond belief. I was tense and
angry at Lois and more angry at myself. When she began
to caress my cock, hoping to bring me off, I pushed
her hand away and strode into the shower where I
remained under seriously hot water for the next
fifteen minutes.  When I emerged, I was once again in
charge of my emotions.  All I said, with a forced
smile on my face, was, "Bob Dole is a liar!"

Arriving home, I wrote to my friend Jay.  At least,
here was someone with whom I could share the many
truths and lies that now filled my existence.  Jay was
sympathetic when I related the disappointment of the
weekend experience and was unexpectedly tolerant when
I finally told him about the incident in the park.
Being AIDS conscious, he feared for my safety and
asked if deep down, I wanted to get caught having
elicit sex, or worse yet, to get the virus.

E-mail continued for more months.  In fact, it went on
for another year.  It was in November that I suffered
a TIA, or a mini-stroke.  The formula was simple.  A
sense of loss and frustration caused apprehension.
Apprehension causes stress and stress causes an
increase in blood pressure leading to stroke. My TIA
happened at work.  I was without speech and the
ability to move my right hand and leg for several
moments.  Symptoms passed and I decided to stop by my
doctor's office on the way home. I made a call and was
directed to arrange transportation instead to the
hospital.  Being a MAN, I drove himself there.  I
wound up in Intensive Care for two days.  Thanks to
the will to survive and great medical intervention, no
permanent damage was done; that is except to an
already fragile self-image.  Once again, I wrote to
Jay and got the reassurance, and the scolding that I
felt I needed. The morning of the TIA, I had stopped
at the park.  I had met before, and again that day, a
tall, dark and handsome man with military bearing.  He
had done all that he could to get me hard enough to
fuck his ass.  He had nursed on my limp tool till it
had hardened but it was, as the doctors say,
"insufficient for penetration." This I so desperately
wanted to do.  We  finished by each jerking the other
off.

I then began a program of exercise, weight reduction
and the functions of my cock were improving slowly.
Jay and I continued to write brief notes on a weekly
or bi-weekly basis.  Twice more that spring, I was
faced with challenges.  In March, a torn retina almost
caused the loss of sight in one eye, and in early
June, one of my children was in a coma for ten days
and on life support for six, closer to death than
life.  Each time, I wrote to my NavyPop and received
the warmth and support I needed.  Great was my
surprise when Jay wrote and invited me to visit.  I
wanted to know what was included in the invitation.  I
really wanted to know;  I accepted the invitation
without knowing. Finally I asked the all-important
question, "Will we share a bed and all that doing so
implies?"

Jay's simple response was, "YES." Not satisfied with
that, and plagued with self-doubts about my ability to
perform, to measure up, I became very explicit about
what I wanted to "do" and how I wanted to do it.  Jay
finally gave in and used some of the words he had
never used before in print.  Words like, suck, fuck,
rim and cum.  He, too, was specific in what would "be
allowed." He was and is a person who follows rules. I
also reminded Jay that I was short, kind of fat and
kind of old.  He could see that anyway in the pictures
we had exchanged.  Jay said that I could be purple,
six-legged and one-eyed and that I would still be
warmly welcomed. Fool that I was, I believed him!

I did all that was necessary to make the trip,
including the creation of a very complex lie.  Skills
at covering up and surviving abuse were essential
here.
We spoke only once on the phone prior to the trip and
that was to confirm arrangements. On a sunny morning
in August, Lois took me to the airport.  Once on the
plane, I removed my wedding ring and replaced it with
an old garnet and gold signet ring given to me years
before.  I wanted nothing on me that would make Jay
feel any more guilt than I knew he would already be
dealing with.

Jay was there when I came off the ramp.  He was
dressed in a very tight, short spandex exercise rig
and a navy cap.  To me, it was a surprise.  This guy
was "out" there.  I blushed red when Jay gave me a big
bear hug in public, but sure as hell, I hugged him
back.  After all, I thought, nobody here knows who I
am.  On the way to Jay's, he took my hand and placed
it on his naked upper thigh.  Seated in a very low
sports coupe, I knew it was there for every person
driving by to see.
Conversation was easy, though.  Perhaps I had too much
to say.  A stop was made at a car repair shop and I
waited outside.  I wondered if I had made a mistake.
Was this what I wanted; did I want Jay?  Was Jay the
man I thought he was?  I even thought about grabbing
my duffel bag and hailing a cab back to the airport.
Jay came out of the shop, smiling and walked over to
where I stood.  One look into the large dark eyes of
the happy man standing before me and all doubts
vanished from my mind.  This guy, this NavyPop had me!
 I was, after almost thirty-five years, once again in
love with another man.

We arrived at the town house that Jay shared with
three other guys.  Jay explained that he had been up
long hours and that he needed to crash...a nap was in
order. I removed shirt, shorts, socks, and shoes and
turned to lie down.  Jay was naked.  For some reason,
I was surprised and a little shy.  Jay looked at me
and laughed.  I said out loud, "I don't know why I
still have these on!" I stripped and joined Jay on the
bed.  In one brief moment we were in each others arms.

I became the aggressor.  My mouth wandered over Jay
from his lips and ears down, down to his cock head and
then I, surprisingly, swallowed all of Jay right down
to the pubes.  There was not all that much to worry
about.  Jay, at just about six inches, was as thick as
he was long, it was cut and shaped like a wedge.  I
then sucked his balls, his thighs, nipples, and then
went back to the main event.  I shifted then so that
my own semi-erect cock rested on Jay's lips.  I felt
myself being sucked in by the beautiful man laying
beneath me.  I am not sure if I climaxed, it happened
so quickly.  I pulled away; I wanted to continue my
act of love; I wanted to bring him all of the pleasure
and passion that I was capable of. My ministrations to
the cock between my lips went on for some time.  Jay
responded with moans, sighs and convulsive movements;
he moaned my name in passion.  Jay then drew me up so
that my head rested on his chest and I found a nipple
again in my mouth.  Jay had indicated in E-mail that
he liked "aggressive tit and ball play."  This was
what he wanted. While I complied, he proceeded to
pound on his own man pole till he put forth a volcanic
eruption of cum which then was spread between us by
warm, intimate hugs and soft kisses.  I was
disappointed, deeply disappointed.  I had wanted to do
this for my lover.  Next time, I thought, next time.
Jay fell asleep nestled in my arms and I studied the
sleeping man now at rest.

Later that afternoon, when Jay awoke, I tried to start
things in motion but was given only a quick kiss and a
smile.  "There's plenty of time for that later. Let's
shower.  I'm starved and there is so much I want to
show you."  It was a promise I thought.

It was close to mid-night when we returned to Jay's
place and we made no attempt at anything more than
gentle kisses and great big bear hugs.  Both of us
were instantly asleep.  Sometime just before dawn,
There was a hard NavyPop cock placed against my ring.
I began a gentle motion which caused the stiff tool
there to begin dribbling pre-cum.  I then turned to
see that Jay was still asleep.  I began to kiss and
lick him all over.  When I then swallowed NavyPop's
hard and leaking tool, the man above awoke.  My
fingers worked their way into his ass and Jay moaned
and pumped into my hand.  I changed position, I
climbed on top of him, my body erect and my man hole
just above and on his cock head.  He made no effort to
enter me; I put pressure on him by lowering my body.
I slid back and forth and his cock caressed my ass
crack.  Still, he made no effort to do what I wanted
him to do; I wanted him to make love to me with his
cock. Jay began to chuckle and then laughed.  Before
long, we  were wrestling and I started to tickle the
man under me.  "Help, Help! I'm being attacked!" Jay
called out in glee.  Sadly, very sadly for me, there
was no return to intimacy.  My NavyPop had very
effectively shut me off. He had shut me off in a kind
and pleasant way, but he had indeed ended the love
making.  Jay pulled me up to him, kissed me gently and
said, "I need some more sleep."  When we awoke a few
hours later, it seemed that there was no time for
loving.  We were off again in a whirl of sight-seeing;
returned only briefly in time to change for a
performance that Jay had obtained tickets for.  Again,
after a very late supper, we fell into bed and another
day had passed without any real sex.  I guess I knew
deep down that something was wrong.  Jay was loving,
kind, affectionate; but, there was no passion and I
ached inside.

A third day was spent again in yet another whirl of
activity.  Late that afternoon, I finally told Jay
that he need not try so hard to entertain me; that a
quiet late afternoon and evening at home would be
wonderful. Sometime before going out to dinner, Jay
handed me the gay newspaper open to the personals.  He
said, "It's not too late to call someone."  I could
have cried or screamed; I wanted to pound him in the
face.  All three were possibilities.  Instead, I just
laughed. It was a callous, insensitive if not mean
thing for him to do. After dinner, we returned to
quarters.  They were ship-shape. I remarked on how
simply Jay lived.  He said that it was an unexpected
compliment.  He continued explaining that he avoided
complexity in his life and then, without thinking, he
added "and complex people."

Jay selected two videos to watch.  The first was a
violence filled, action-packed military epic and the
second was about a group of gay men living in San
Francisco at the time the AIDS epidemic was being
first recognized for what it was.  My NavyPop cried
softly during parts of the film.  I held him close and
Jay relaxed and wept in my arms.  Of his thirty
closest friends, Jay told me that he had only one left
living. He said a few things that made little sense to
me.  One remark was about married men such as I not
paying the price of sorrow and loss.  When the film
was finished, once again, I tried to involve Jay in
making love.  "I can't, not after watching the film."
I was tired anyway, tired physically and emotionally.
This time, Jay folded his strong arms around me; he
kissed me gently on my neck and shoulders, and we fell
asleep.

Early in the morning's first light, once again I felt
a man's hard cock pressed between my cheeks.  I did
nothing for several moments and then began a slight
push-pull movement of my ass cheeks.  The response I
had hoped for was there.  Then, once again, Jay pulled
away.  This time I was not only hurt; I was angry.
"What the hell is going on?"  I asked.  "Are you
testing me?  You start this and then leave me hanging
out here in pain!"

"I often do not do what the head of my prick wants,"
was Jay's response.  I pulled away and laid on my
side; I was just as far away from that NavyPop as I
could get and still stay in bed.  A hand reached out
and caressed my shoulder.

"What are you doing now?" I asked.

"I need to touch you, only touch you," Jay said
softly.

"As long as I understand,"  I said, chocking back a
sob.  The tears came slowly; they ran down my cheeks.
My body began to shake and Jay rubbed my back gently.
Sleep returned and when I awoke, NavyPop was once
again spooned against me and a hot, rigid cock was
between my ass cheeks.  This time I left the bed, put
on some shorts and sat on the floor, my back against
the side of the bed where Jay still slept, or
pretended to sleep.  Some time later, a warm hand
gently rubbed my head and caressed my neck.

"Good Morning," was the sleepy greeting.  I responded
with a sad, half smile.  Jay understood.  I showered
and changed.  "Wait," NavyPop said.  "I promised you a
wonderful massage."  One of his many skills or
professions was that of a trained therapist.

"I don't want your charity!"  The words were out
before I could hold them back.  Jay looked as if I had
slapped him hard across the face.  Then anger crept
in.
A brief confrontation took place.  I asked Jay to
explain what had gone wrong.  I asked, no begged for
the truth. All Jay would say was that "the chemistry
was missing."  I pressed on but it was hopeless.  The
man who had talked about being open and honest was now
shut down completely.  Several times during the day, I
attempted to open communication.  The issue was
skirted by him. The only honest thing I felt that was
said was when Jay commented, "I knew you would fall in
love with me."

At the airport, it was Jay who had tears in his eyes.
I turned once, just before entering the gangway, to
see if NavyPop had stayed to see me off.  I caught his
eye and Jay turned quickly away and looked out the
window.

For several weeks, I continued to ask for the truth.
We had been such good friends, I thought.  Finally Jay
opened up a little.  He said he could not continue the
relationship if it was based in and on a lie.  He
insisted that if sex were to happen again that I must
tell my wife.  He wanted to be able to phone without
my permission, to visit where I lived.  He told me
that finally he had met a man that he could share most
of his life with and that HE, or I, WAS MARRIED.  Jay
stressed the impossibility of the situation.  He
explained that because of a high-pressured, demanding
position, that because of other commitments, that he
could not "afford" the kind of relationship that would
be required with me.  He said I was "high
maintenance." I responded that if a five minute E-mail
once a week was high maintenance, that he needed new
friends.  I had asked for regular phone and E-mail
communication and maybe a once-a-year celebration of
love.  I did not ask for a monogamous relationship or
for any real commitment; I asked only for a little
love.  I finally offered to tell my wife; I believed
that I loved Jay. My brave man, my NavyPop once again
ran in the other direction. I had decided that I would
risk all that I had for love and once again I was
rejected.  Jay would not take the responsibility for
ending a marriage and for breaking apart a family.

As time passed, my hurt became anger. A few rather
unpleasant but accurate descriptions of what had
happened were sent to Jay.  This story in an
unfinished state is one of them. I vowed never to
"fall in love" again.  I have made just one brief
phone call; it was on New Year's Eve.  I wished him a
happy one and asked if I would ever hear from him
again.  All I had for an answer or for any hope was,
"We'll see."

A day or two later, I published my first story on
Nifty. A wonderful man responded to "The Night Before
Christmas." You can find it under "YOUTH."  He has
become a true and strong friend, a confidant, my
editor.  At his urgings, I have finished my tale and I
am finished with Jay.  My new friend and I plan to
meet soon.  If you are interested in what happens, let
me know!

hottoppop@yahoo.com