As a straight married guy, Colin had never really thought about gay sex until one day he noticed that the only other guy in the gym sauna had a hard-on. Obviously the other fella was trying to get Colin's attention and Colin - a burley six footer - was rooted to the spot by fear and fascination. Colin told me he gawped and felt his own cock stir and stiffen as the fella slowly wanked and fingered his own butt-hole until he shot a huge load into the thick hairs on his belly and then promptly left the sauna. I'd talked to Colin off and on for weeks on-line and as we built up trust he came out of his shell. His wife had developed a disability and their sex life had ground to a halt five years previously. He fantasised about sex with other women, but guilt prevented him crossing the line into reality. His right hand had become his best friend and until that incident in the gym, he resigned himself to the idea that intimacy was consigned to history. Gradually the idea of sex with guys crept into his wank fantasies and eventually gay scenarios entered into his late night internet porn habit. He began to entertain the idea of sex with men as a way of avoiding infidelity. It's a curious kind of logic I know, but it's not the first time I'd encountered it. I could tell it had reached the level of obsession because he talked about the smell of the other guys spunk and how just the memory made him hard. We swapped pictures, discussed Colin's anxieties: would he cum too quickly? not be able to get a hard-on? know how to handle another man? would it matter if nothing happened and we just talked? One thing he emphasised strongly was the simple desire to be touched and so we agreed that when we met we'd start with a hug and a kiss. He really wanted to be kissed and this in my experience was unusual with bi-curious men. We agreed I'd take the lead, and keep checking with him as we went along if he was comfortable with things. He arrived on my doorstep bang on the appointed hour stammering and stuttering and nervously not making much sense. I ushered him in and down the hallway checking out the beautiful curve of his buttocks, the broad shoulders and the ample biceps from the hours spent working out. How could this giant, built like the proverbial brick outhouse, be so nervous of me a wiry five foot seven in my stocking feet? I told him to sit down on the sofa, stop talking and then leaned down and kissed him on the lips and as I did his tongue touched mine, shyly and first and then deeper and more urgent. Colin had not been kissed in a long time....