Alameda Guy (Part 1)
Posted on November 11, 2009I met Alameda Guy through my Craig’s List “Teach Me How to Fuck Your Guy’s Ass” ad.
He responded to my ad with a photo of him and his wife. They were both cute. He and I exchanged a few emails and agreed to meet at a dive bar near my house. His wife was busy, but the first meeting would be a chemistry check anyway. Since eventually I’d be fucking his ass, with his wife’s instruction, we needed to make sure we could fuck.
We had some drinks. We got along well. He was very sweet and cute. He had taken BART from the East Bay so he had to go to catch the last train, at about midnight. I walked him to the 24th Street BART station and then walked toward my house.
I knew he was down in the station where phone reception is dodgy. As I walked home I texted him, “I could fuck your ass.” Only the reception on his phone was good, even in the underground train station, and I received a response from him almost immediately. He asked if he should leave the train station.
I told him, via text, to stop at a liquor store to get us some vodka and a mixer and to get to my place. We had very good sex. His phone kept buzzing and he kept not responding to it. He left in the morning.
We talked on the phone occasionally and tried to set up a meeting for all three of us. He told me he had gotten into some trouble the night he stayed over because he didn’t let his wife know that he was going to be out all night.
We were next supposed to see each other–and I was to meet his wife–at a group vodka tasting at Hangar One in Alameda. Not having a car it’s not so easy for me to get to Alameda, it being an island in the San Francisco Bay. BART goes to Oakland, but not to Alameda, probably because Alameda likes being suburban and inaccessible to the riff-raff of Oakland and San Francisco. Along with the difficulty of transportation, there was the difficulty of showing up at an event where I knew only one person, whom I had fucked.
Only no one was supposed to know we had fucked. The tasting they organized was with a group of their friends, very few of whom knew they had an open marriage. Unfortunately, non-monogamy amongst married folks is still closeted.
Alameda Guy and I figured out a reasonable story to explain how we’d met. It didn’t have too many details, and the general plan was to avoid the topic, or to change the subject. The point was to not let the couple’s friends know that he and I had fucked, with his wife’s consent or otherwise.
However, at the last minute my ride fell through. Alameda Guy and I texted each other that day. I could tell he wasn’t spitting his vodka tastings, as his spelling became increasingly more bizarre. Toward the end of the day his texts took a dark turn.
He texted that he was embarrassed. Then that he was humiliated. Hmm, not too good. Though he had made efforts at discretion had I gone to the tasting, apparently once the vodka was flowing, his wife did not do the same. She had been blatantly flirting and hitting on a woman at the tasting, and basically made it clear to their friends that he was a cuckold.
I’m glad I wasn’t there for that. Eventually, the wife announced that she was not bisexual, but a lesbian. They began the divorce process. I tried to be understanding, and offered what advice I could considering my own experience with divorce and my mother’s lesbianism, but with the limitation that I didn’t (and don’t) have young children.
(To be continued ….)
I swear. True story.
Tags: booze, pegging, SF love, threesome, words count
Categories: True Story.
[...] [Continued from "Alameda Guy (Part 1)."] [...]
28.11.2009 00:37
I’m loving this, sent here by a mutual friend of ours. You’re inspiring me to pick mine up again.
06.01.2010 17:29