I couldn’t stop. Once we started, I just couldn’t stop. And I didn’t tell Tim. I tried, a few times, after one of our quick and fumbling encounters in the back of his Firebird, to tell him about the sweet and magical and amazing thing I’d discovered with Sarah. I loved Tim-he was kind and thoughtful and he tried very hard to please me-but we’d been having sex for over a year and I still hadn’t once had an orgasm in his presence.

Since my relationship with Sarah began, I’d asked myself more than once if I might be gay instead of just bi… but my love for a hard cock and, more importantly, men, simply made that impossible. Still, I didn’t think of my relationship with Sarah as

“cheating” on Tim. How could he possibly compete? It was like apples and oranges.

Where he was hard, she was soft-there was just no comparison to be made. They gave me such different things.

But I admit, it became problematic. Sarah wanted more and more of me, and I wanted to give her what she wanted. I couldn’t seem to say no to her, and all of a sudden I found myself doing and saying things I’d never imagined myself doing or saying.

Like the time we spent all day sunbathing on her apartment roof. I say we, but it was really Sarah who was slowly turning a beautiful golden brown. I was slathered with sunscreen and sitting under an umbrella, my pale skin too sensitive to ever tan. Then we reclined in the hot August night talking for hours, and we made love so long and so hard neither of us cared when it started to rain and our moans were drowned out by the sound of storm. I couldn’t get enough of her, or she of me. I’d never had anything or anyone like Sarah before. The whole thing was intoxicating.