Just Telling You How I Came Out To Myself

I won't say I discovered myself in my fifties, it is more like I let myself come out. It happened when I was working with a group from my church rebuilding a country church that was falling down. You know the type, an 1880 one room building which needed to be taken down or rebuilt. I am pretty handy with a hammer. During the project I met Joe, not his real name of course, a divorced man in his fifties from another church who worked for the highway department. Big, that's what struck me, he was big over six feet and large all over, hands, arms, legs and shoulders. We had lunch one of those days, we drove down to the local BBQ place and sat outside and we got to talking, as they say.

We went through our backgrounds and eventually got to his divorce and he told me quite frankly that he had this habit, he called it a habit, of 'just pounding the shit out of some college boy'. I thought he meant pounding, as in beating up, but no he meant the other kind of pounding, fucking a college boy. His wife caught him and that was the end of his marriage. I was dumbstruck. I mean, what do you say? He asked me if I ever got the urge, you know, to get it on with a man. I lied and said no, never have. But I lied. The truth was quite different but I lied.

That night I sat in my chair with the TV on and thought about my lie, and the things that I have done, starting way back in high school with the tennis coach, my first time, and not so long ago with another Joe I met by accident at a retirement party for a coworker. I guess I am more of the college kid, the one that gets the pounding. And all I could think about was Joe pounding the shit out of me.

We worked together and after a month the little church was standing tall again and everyone was picking up their tools and going back to their otherwise dull lives. Joe and I went back to the BBQ for the last time and we sat outside again. And I worked up the courage and told Joe, that once upon a time I had let this guy pound the shit out of me and to be honest I had liked it. His 'NO SHIT' was pretty loud. He pressed for details and I made up a story of when I was in college, but what I told him was when I was in high school and the tennis coach had given me a good fucking. It was good, I'm not making that up.

He put his hand on my hand and said he and his buddies were getting together the following Saturday and going for a ride in the country, it was supposed to be good weather. He meant on Harleys. I didn't own one and I had never been on the back of a Harley but he said I could ride with him, sort of keep my legs around him. I agreed. That night I sat in front of the TV asking myself if I was crazy, but the urge was greater than the insecurity and I went out on Saturday to his house and got on the back of his Harley. I didn't know that was the bitch position. He gave me a helmet with an intercom and as we rode, we went alone he ditched the friends, as we rode along the country road he told me via the intercom to put my arms around him and grab onto his dick.

Holding my arms around him, leaning my body and head against his back, my hands on his dick as we rode the winding roads, my dick was hard and harder and his dick was hard enough and I just wanted to stop and take his dick in my mouth and show him I could be his bitch. I could feel it in my loins, I wanted to get fucked so bad it hurt. We stopped at this rest stop and got off and talked and he asked me if I wanted to show him what a good boy I was (although I was 53 I was a good boy that day). We got behind the tree line and the bushes and I gave him my best BJ, I got him to cum and with crossed eyes I showed him I swallowed.

When we got back to his place, he pounded the shit out of me leaning over his pool table. Oh God, as they saying goes, it was so good. Right then and there it was the way of the world, I was his bitch and he made sure I knew it. For the rest of that summer, going on into early fall I was his bitch. It was the longest spell of me being the bitch and getting pounded regularly, of sucking cock and other things. His crew, the motorcycle guys, had their bitches too, some had tits but others had dicks. But bitches are bitches and you hold on tight and hold onto his dick when you ride.

It came to an end, not because of anyone thing, it just did, it ran out of steam. We didn't have anything in common, I had my job and he had his and we just parted company and never went riding again. But since then I am a lot more positive about what I like and I've managed to make a friend or two and take a pounding or two and of course suck a cock or two. Right now, coming out of this pandemic a group of us are going on a cruise. Three real men with their bitches. I'm the bitch in case you have to ask. The other two bitches are neophytes in my opinion, more like girls with dicks than bitches with dicks. But then again those men like that type, my friend likes a mature man with experience. I tell myself that.