I Watched My Straight-Passing Boyfriend Suck a Dick For the First Time and Discovered the Eighth World Wonder

"There was my corn-fed, very straight-passing, man tenderly kissing this hot artist man. There was no pretentiousness, no barriers. It was just two masculine dudes enjoying one another’s touch."

The best boyfriend I ever had was a gorgeous blond man in his late thirties. Daddy was the glass of milk I didn’t know I wanted–complete with Midwest charm, the biceps and face of a Friday Night Lights jock, and huge in both places that count (brain and heart). Fine, his cock was delicious, too. Looking back, we probably came across a little She’s All That. I was the queer artist chick, and he was the very straight-passing, fated Prom king.

Although neither of us was trying to date when we met, we fell madly in love and couldn’t help but form a beautiful open relationship together. Our connection was deep and effortless, and I made Daddy feel safe when he came out as bi. He shared how he was new to living out his bisexuality, having had only one MM hookup before—a drunken night with an old coworker who’d always had a crush on him, and finally, sucked Daddy off. When he expressed his desire for more MM action, my pussy screamed, “Yes, please!” My pussy felt like a gay sex groupie even though she’d never been to “a show” (i.e., seen two men do it IRL.) But my God, did she want some backstage passes to see some guy-on-guy action.

I was with her; I wanted the VIP wristband to see Daddy with another man so badly. Not only had I never witnessed gay sex between two men, but I’d never even viewed it in porn. (My post-traumatic Catholic disorder caused a latency there that, don’t worry, has been remedied many times over now.) 

But in all our adventures—from sex parties to threesomes with our MILF third, to at-home stripper nights where I danced and Daddy’s friends threw real money on me—the sex we were having was still pretty straight. So I suggested we get on Feeld and try swinging with another MF couple.

If you're a fellow recovering Catholic, when you hear the word "swingers," you picture a hetero couple in their 70s, in the ‘70s, fucking in a weird carpeted basement. As it turns out, you can just be a young couple dating, meet other young couples who want casual sex, no frilly carpet has to be involved, and boom, you’re swingers. 

Eventually, we found a couple that seemed right up our alley: Will and Jenny. She was a teacher (that a lot of students must’ve had a crush on). And he was–honestly, I can't remember what he did for work because he was so distractingly pretty. Oh, that’s right, he was a successful photographer (swoon!). They owned a house they had recently renovated together, and after a quick vibe-check via Zoom, they invited us over “for a glass of wine.”

Will and Jenny’s place was as pretty as them; it looked like a West Elm ad with some very tasteful art they’d collected over the years. Upon arriving, we gracefully waded through the initial river of nervous small talk, then settled in sipping on some delicious, high-end red wine between puffs of a joint. Sitting around the cool, wicker dining table, I could feel how everyone was vibing everyone. I wanted her, he, and both of them to be with my guy. It was a sea of wine, weed, charcuterie, and four-way sexual tension.

When we killed the Cab Sav, I suggested we play spin the bottle with it, hoping to break the seal on our impending foursome. We moved over to the living room and sat on embellished floor cushions in a circle before the roaring, wood-burning fireplace. I spun first, landing the neck of the bottle on Will, and felt the nerves kick in. I hadn’t kissed a man other than Daddy in over a year! And this man had the potential of also being the first strange dick I’d had in just as long. I looked to Daddy as if to ask, “Is this really okay?” He gave me the slightest nod and accompanying smile, so I turned towards Will and started to crawl.

He met me halfway, joining my mouth to his, and I closed my eyes to see my whole sacral chakra light up. My groin felt a surge of warmth and pressure as his tongue grazed mine. I was hyperaware of how different, yet also pleasing, Will’s mouth was from Daddy’s. We frenched for a moment more, then giggled, returning to our spots. Next, it was Daddy’s turn…

Please land on Will. Please land on Will. I crossed my fingers and wished.

I was all for seeing Daddy and Jenny go at it, but the novelty of Daddy with another man is what had me drooling. Lucky for me, I got my wish! The bottle pointed straight between the boys. Jenny and I looked at each other instinctually and squealed. Our boys were both so beautiful; it was like we were about to see Orlando Bloom and Leonardo DiCaprio make out.

Will and Daddy shifted themselves toward the center of our circle. Then, standing on their knees, they grabbed each other’s faces and pulled until their lips finally touched. I swear the next ten seconds lasted an hour as my jaw (literally) dropped in awe of the beauty they were creating.

There was my corn-fed, very straight-passing man tenderly kissing this hot (also straight-passing) artist man. There was no pretentiousness—no labels or barriers. It was just two masculine dudes enjoying one another’s touch. And it was especially sexy that Daddy was open enough to let me witness his very new exploration. 

After a few more rounds of spinning and kissing, the tension was sufficiently cut, and we all wanted more room to play, so we migrated to the bedroom. Everything was mid-century modern in keeping with the rest of the house, and condoms and toys lay on nightstands on both sides of the king bed. We felt right at home. 

As Will adjusted the surround sound to play Arcade Fire, Daddy and I helped undress Jenny to her zebra-print bra and panties. Her shoulder-length icy-blonde hair and stark blue eyes had me smitten. She laid back and watched the boys slip my dress off, leaving me in my light blue bodysuit. I joined Jenny on the bed, rubbing her thigh with my hand and kissing her neck between peeks at our men.

They were standing at the foot of the bed, all buddy-buddy next to each other, staring at their half-naked girls while slowly unbuttoning their shirts. Once the boys were down to just their boxer briefs, showing off their matching erections, they joined us. With our men spooning us each from behind, Jenny and I turned towards each other and disappeared into our own little haven of curves, soft lips, tongues, and titties, feeling each other up and synchronizing the rhythm of our lust.

Above us, Will and Daddy sat up and started making out with each other. Jenny and I took notice, loving what we were seeing so much that we paused our own romping to appreciate it. We scooted back towards the headboard, giving the men the spotlight and the middle of the bed. 

I couldn’t believe how perfect they were together. The way Daddy’s big football-player arms cradled Will’s slightly smaller frame. Their strong, manly chests pressed against each other as they tongued. The might of their grips on one another as they roamed their hands all over heads, backs, and biceps. And what especially turned me on was the sweetness of this safe play zone where two grown men could explore their often-neglected homoerotic sides. 

I circled my clit, pulling my bodysuit aside to access my wetness, as I stared at them, enthralled. Daddy had pulled Will’s boxer briefs down, letting his hard-on spring out, and he looked hungry for it. My heart was warm, and my pussy was soaking as I watched Daddy make the next move. In that moment, I discovered the eighth world wonder: Daddy sucking another man’s cock.