My Amazing Double Life

Life is a maze of opportunities and choices, drives and commitments, actions and the roads they take us down. Often we are unable to see everywhere a decision takes us; other times we choose not to see so we can freely experience all that life has to offer. We are too complex. A triumphant and primal experience may lead down a road of distance from the commitments that are ultimately most important to us.

In the fall of 1998, I completed my first marathon. I was 28, married, no kids, in love, great position with a high-tech startup in Boston. I had trained for the marathon alone, shedding twenty-five pounds off my midriff and three minutes off my mile in the process. Upon our return from the out-of-town marathon weekend, I joined a local running club in Concord, near our Boston suburb - a celebration of having "made it" as a runner.

I started running with the club one frosted morning two weeks later. A dozen or so people in shorts met at the town common. We did quick introductions, and split into two groups - long and short. The short run was a rough seven-mile loop, which sounded long enough to me. After very brief introductions, we started at a moderate pace up a hill under the cover of ancient maples that still held about half their bright red leaves and the sleepy watch of cozy colonial homes.

I learned quickly, as I sucked cold air trying to hold on to the tail of the group, wondering if I could keep it up for seven or so miles of country roads, that I had a lot of work to do as a runner. I don't remember much of the run. I'm sure the late fall New England scenery was calendar material, but I focused on maintaining cadence and keeping my lungs in my chest.

I did finish without any serious medical complications, more or less in sight of the group. I watched people gravitate into clearly familiar groups to catch up and swap the usual stories about home and work. Before I started to work my way over to the car, one of these groups found me:

"Hi, welcome. I'm Rick, this is John, Dan, and Shreenath. Welcome to the club."

"Hi. Alex. Fine morning." I replied.

"That it is, that it is", said Rick.

Pleasantries lasted a quarter hour or so. Rick - blond straight hair, starting to turn grey around the temples, forty-five? Rick was wearing shorts, top and bottom - clearly a die-hard. Even I was wearing tights on this cold October morning. John - bald and apparently older - fifty? That would make John a fast masters runner. Dan - mid-thirties, dark curly hair, dark eyes, matchy running suit. Shreenath - I'm not good at placing Indian men - also wore a fancy matched running suit. I remember deciding to never wear a running suit.

"See you next Sunday?" offered Rick.

"Wouldn't miss it." I replied, although I was unsure. Of course, next Sunday rolled around, and I rolled out of bed at 7:30 to make it to the Concord town common by 8:00.

This time, Rick and I ran together. I found I was running faster, probably because I had healed a bit from the marathon. We gabbed for eight miles about this and that; Rick was divorced about a year ago, had three kids, lived in a condo just outside the center of town, wife and kids lived in a house near Carlisle. I told him about me - recently married, bought a house, startup in town, wife traveled most weeks... Rick suggested we get together for a run one evening midweek.

"Wednesday?" I picked at random.

"7:00?" Rick returned.

"What about traffic?" I asked. Running after dark anywhere near Boston sounded ominous.

"Ever run in the woods at night?" Rick asked.

"No - sounds dark."

"No, really, it's a kick. Get yourself two mini-mag flashlights, one for each hand. You'd be surprised. Once you get the rhythm, it's easy"

I pondered this, figured I could always walk out if I needed to, and said, "Ok. Where?"

"I usually go in through Walden Pond."

"There's parking after hours on the other side of Lincoln Woods, at the Crossing, by the commuter rail." I had little interest in getting towed from the overwatched Walden lot.

And so it was set. 7:00, Lincoln Crossing, my first experience of running in the woods at night. On Monday, I stopped by REI and picked up two mini-mag flashlights, "one for each hand."

It turns out that running in the woods at night is "a kick". Unlike our Sunday run, once we started running, we didn't talk much. It takes to much concentration to negotiate roots and stones at night. Rick led the way through the woods to Walden Pond, around the pond, and back out. I followed until Rick slowed to a walk just before the parking lot.

"Dinner plans?" Rick asked.

"I haven't made any, but I'd need to hop home for a shower." Running, even on a cold October evening, is sweaty work.

"Or my home." Rick offered. "We're five minutes from my place, and there's a great restaurant right in Concord center. On me."

"Split." I said.

"You can have next time."

I followed Rick to his condo.

Rick lived in half of a duplex. Hardwood floors, sparse furnishing. The space had a sparse, clean feel to it. Shower was upstairs. I showered first, dressed, and we walked to the Walden Grille in Concord Center. We talked about work, about family, and split a bottle of wine.

I don't know what I was thinking. Walking out of the restaurant, I was immediately aware that I would not be driving home for a while. I was glad for the ten-minute walk back to Rick's place, but even then I had to say, "I'm about an hour from being able to drive home." I looked at my watch for the first time since the end of the run - ten - late. "And I need to call my wife."

"I'm ok with that." Rick said. "Why don't you come in, use the phone, and either we can hang for an hour or you can spend the night. Whatever works for you."

I called my wife's cell. She was on her way to dinner somewhere in Dallas. We talked only for a couple of minutes. Rick had gone upstairs and came down with two t-shirts. "This should be more comfortable than a starched shirt." We changed; Rick poured two glasses of water. "This should help somewhat." Rick sat in a chair; I sat on the sofa; we sipped water and listened to Jazz on GBH, and talked. Rick got up to get us more water, came back, and sat down on the other end of the sofa. The conversation slowed. Rick looked at me.

"What?" I asked / said.

"You should spend the night; get a good night's sleep and pass by your house in the morning."

"I can drive home." I said. "It's not far, and I'm sure I'm officially sober."

"No, really." he said, standing. "I have a guest room just for the purpose. Accidents can change your life."

Rick walked into the kitchen, pulled a new toothbrush out of a drawer and tossed it to me. I guessed I was staying.

We went upstairs. I hung my pants in the guest room closet; rick tossed his jeans onto his bed through the doorway. We brushed our teeth in our boxers, and made the bed in the guest room.

"Lie on your stomach." Rick said as we finished tucking in the blanket.

"Hmmm?"

"Lie on your stomach. Trust me; I once studied this."

I looked at Rick. He nodded toward the bed. I lay down on the bed on my stomach.

I felt Rick's hands on my shoulders through the shirt. He massaged my neck and shoulders, around the shoulder blades, my arms, my back, then my legs. After running, a massage feels amazing.

Rick's hands worked the soles of my feet, my calves, the backs of my knees, my hamstrings.

Slowly another awareness developed within me. I felt Rick approach then cross a line as he worked his hands up my legs until his fingers brushed against my crotch, then up the legs of my boxers. I felt my penis harden, the tip working it's way up to the top of my boxers. Rick massaged the cheeks of my butt one at a time, then slid his hands up, under my shirt, pulling it with his hands as he went. I was nervous, excited, and shaking a little bit. I lifted my upper body, then my arms, so he could pull my shirt all the way off.

It occurred to me that I had done this without even thinking about it, but I didn't want to stop. I don't know if I had ever been so aroused. I wanted to explode all over the world. There was no need to hide anything - I rolled over, showing my giant hard-on. Rick's penis stuck straight out the fly of his boxers. I reached up and held it in my hand. If felt heavy, solid, warm, smooth. I squeezed it. Rick moaned, making me even more aware of what I was doing. I pulled Rick's boxers over his penis, down to his knees - he was kneeling on the bed at this point. He stood up and finished the job of undressing, first stepping out of his boxers, then pulling his shirt up over his head so that I could see his glorious runners body - skinny, muscular around the legs and ass, a little bit around the shoulders. I pulled my own boxers off so that my own penis stood straight up, inviting Rick's touch.

Rick walked over to the bed, and standing, kissed my lips. I surprised myself by kissing back. I felt more naked than I had ever felt before. Rick knelt over me, then straddled me so that his penis was in my face, and his face was in my penis. He sucked his penis into his mouth. It felt warm, revolutionary, awakening, amazing, like no other sexual sensation I had ever felt before. His penis smelled strongly of, well, penis. I reached out with my tongue and touched the tip of it. It felt warm, soft, tasted slightly. I reached up with my hands and grabbed his but, allowing my fingertips to just touch his crotch, one pinky landing on his asshole, and I pulled his penis into my mouth.

Rick made a noise, sucked hard, and I orgasmed what must have been a quart of semen into his mouth. I sucked hard in ecstacy and felt Rick's penis tremble then deliver in six sharp contractions a mouthful of salty-sweet-fertile tasting goo, which I swallowed for lack of anything else to do with it. Rick pulled back the covers, and we got into bed together, sleeping like spoons, Rick on the outside. This was the oddest part of the evening for me - too reminiscent of an activity at home and in another life.

I quickly fell asleep.

I awoke before dawn. A digital clock told me it was 5:07 AM. My mouth tasted terrible - sugar overnight. Rick was sprawled out on his back. Suddenly I wanted to feel his penis in my mouth again. I was instantly turned on, still naked, ready for more. I pulled back the covers, and kneeling, picked up Rick's sleeping penis in my mouth and sucked ever so gently. Rick awoke with a long, slow, "mmmmmm", and allowed me to slowly, patiently, work him to a smooth, tall erection, then a deep orgasm so that his whole body convulsed with each gism-filled contraction of his penis. I swallowed the gism, already becoming accustomed to the flavor of cum.

A minute or two later, Rick pushed me over onto my back and came up between my legs, first sucking my penis until it stood straight up - One International Penis -then taking each testicle into his mouth, then sliding his tongue down my crotch to my anus - a sensation I could never have imagined. My whole body tensed then relaxed as Rick's tongue and hands explored my ass.

Then, just when I thought I couldn't take it any more, his hands slid up to massage my chest as he pulled the whole of my penis into his mouth and sucked. Naked and gay in this life, I orgasmed with my whole soul, delivering every last drop of semen in my entire body in spasm after spasm.

For a moment, we lay down in bed, enjoying feeling spent.

Then I got up, brushed my teeth, showered, dressed, went home, dressed again, and went to work.

And so it happened that running in the woods at night was only one of many first experiences that evening last October.

Once some things have been done, they can never be undone. A can of worms opened can never be closed. And here I am, happily married textbook suburbanite seven days and six nights a week, naked gay adventurer one night a week. Every time I look at somebody, I wonder, are they exactly as they seem, or are they too leading a double life? I wonder how long I'll be able to keep each life intact, separate for each would certainly destroy the other were the separation to be compromised. I wonder what advice I should be given. And every Wednesday, after work, I drive to Concord for a run, dinner, and to spend the night naked, gay, and alive.

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written by modovelis