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Over the years....My names Rob and I'm a recently divorced 54 year old man. Divorced for one simple reason....my wife found out.Sylvia and I married 30 years ago and had a ful and successful life which gave us a son who is now 16. Paul still lives with his mum, who is 48, in the family home in the north of England. I am now living in a crappy flat in a less than desirable part of town. But, I've only myself to blame I suppose, and it was only a matter of time before something had to give. Ok...I'm 54 now, just under six foot and twelve and a half stone. I'm in good shape, and work as a salesexecutive for a catering supply company. I travel a lot. It was nearly ten years ago when I first gave into a nagging doubt I had about who and what I was. We had flown to Paris for Sylvia's birthday, and had done the normal site seeing things. Arc de triomph nottredam etc etc. At threeish we were in a bar and I needed to piss. Sylvia was planning on doing some shopping and I was gonna have a few very expensive beers. She disappeared and i went downstairs to the toilets. I was thinking back to this morning when I had had sex with her, and was thinking of how much harder it was everytime we did it and maintaining an erection was a problem. Standing in that dimly lit toilet (two of the five bulbs in there were out) I was joined by a guy probably a few years older than me. I let my eyes wander to my right and fixed my eyes on a smooth looking flaccid cock gushing urine in a continuous stream. For a few seconds i watched this man urinate, failing to notice that I had finished. He turned and smiled at me and said hello in an intoxicating French accent. I just stood there spellbound....well, or frozen, I'm not sure. In broken English he asked 'you like to touch?' I was just rooted to the spot, as he sort of offered me his thickening cock. I just stared at it then at his face then his cock. My hand, with a will of its own reached over and touched the first cock, other than my own, I'd ever touched. It was warm and seemed to throb to my touch as it grew in my palm. He put his hand over mine and closed my fist around it. For a few seconds I moved the foreskin back and forward over the growing bulbous head of his cock. My own cock was still out of my trousers and was harder than it had been for years. This was to public a place for this to last, and seconds later footsteps coming down the stairs brought both of us to our senses. My French friend calmly put his cock away and I completely freaked. I practically cut by cock in the zip trying to put it away as I ran like a frightened c***d up the stairs and out the pub door. My heart was racing so fast I was nearly hyperventilating. I kept walking, never looking back. I was now into an area I didn't know, or care, I just had to hide. I found a grotty looking cafe and went inside looking for somewhere to crawl into and die. Fuck....I had touched another mans penis, stroked it in fact, and bloody hell, I'd got hard to. My mind was screaming maniac thoughts. I got a strong coffee and tried to calm my breathing. I looked down and saw that my zip wasn't all the way up and my cock was still in a state of arousal. I adjusted myself and took stock of the situation. I HAD JUST PLAYED WITH A MANS COCK.....and fucking loved it.!!!!!I looked around the cafe...no one was looking at me....no one was shouting puffter..queer..arsebandid... It was all just calm, and people going about there business, as normal. I finished my coffee and retraced my steps as I had to meet my wife in the same bar as I had left just fifteen minutes ago. I still had an hour or so before she would be back, so I took a slow walk and let the air clear my head. I'd had these rumblings for years about who and what I was and my feelings towards both men and women. I loved my wife, but gaziantep escort did I love her as a friend or a sexual person. I hadn't known. A guy in my office, did I like him as a friend or did I want to have sex with him. Probably the latter, but was to to afraid to admit it. I'd just pushed all these thoughts to the back of my head...treating them with contempt and hatred. I'm not gay. I'm not gay. Ok. Who am I k**ding. Something was there. I looked at my hand thinking how it felt wrapping my hand around that piece of flesh and feeling the blood flow through the veins, watching it expand and seeing the crown getting ever bigger. Oh how I'd have loved to get on my knees and experience the feeling of my first cock sliding into my mouth and letting it force its way into my throat. I was in a day dream when I realised I was back outside the cafe/bar and checking my watch realised I still had a half hour wait before Sylvia returned. I kept walking. I found another bar just as a text arrived saying she would be another hour. Good I thought that'll give me more time to think this through. I sent her the name and location of where I was and settled down with the most exorbitant pint I'd ever bought. At least I didn't have to go back into that bar...my friend might have still been there and I know I couldn't face him. I picked a good spot to sit down, somewhere where I could people watch. Well.....male watch more like. When a good looking guy came in I wondered what he was like naked. What he did in the privacy of his home..was he a heterosexual male? Was he gay? Was he bi? I'd never had these internal questions before. I'd probably suppressed them. I watched for a while, then another thought struck me...was I bi, was I gay even. I'd been with many females in my early life and with my wife for many years. Could you change from being, what I thought was normal, to being either bi or gay, in the time it had taken to have a piss. I didn't think so, but, what the fuck do I know.I sort of new that I'd looked at mens cocks in toilets before, but just put it down to just comparing cock sizes with my one. I was really confused. But still erect. My wife arrived and we went back to the hotel soon after. I remember vividly that night when we were out that it was men who were more my focal point, and more than once I found myself looking at there crotch area. I caught a couple of them smiling at me , as if to say, 'you want my cock don't you??' One I think I even smiled back at. Two days later we were flying back home but not till late. Sylvia went shopping again and I went for a pint. I went back to THAT bar. It was earlier than the last time I'd been in so I wasn't expecting or hoping my 'friend' would be in. After an hour I found myself following a guy into the toilet...standing next to him and making a bit of a show of getting my cock out. There were others in there but they were at the hand basins, not at the urinals. I blatantly looked over at my targets cock....average size, and circumcised. I looked at him and smiled, just like the guy did two days ago to me. He smiled back, almost daring me to do something. I just stood there stroking my cock in front of him....I was rock hard. I glanced back at his cock and he was pissing but I noticed that it wasn't a strong stream as his cock was more than semi hard. No one was in the toilet now but us two, and I was in full wanking mode by now. He just watched me jack off and shoot my load into the trough. He was hard but did nothing but watch me. After I'd finished he said thankyou in an American accent and I followed him upstairs where he joined his male friends. He smiled at me a few times until my wife came in and we left. He gave me a wave as I walked out the door. That had been the first nail in my marriage coffin. The second happened a year later, again on a trip for her birthday, that time to Rome.