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I grew comfortable in my new role as a kinky, if somewhat masochistic Bottom, a sometime Slave, but always the Slut. I became very creative at seeking out the most popular Gay haunts-the leather bars, bath houses, tearooms, rest stops, parks, adult theaters, and bookstores. Ironically, I kept our family together by keeping us apart.
With a generous expense account and a salary I'd heretofore only dreamt about, I jumped at the opportunity. Just when I didn't want to go on with such duplicity, becoming more and more conflicted everyday-just when I was seriously considering leaving wife and kids-salvation came in the form of a new job, offering 200 travel days a year. After each tryst, I felt guilty and ashamed, but on each occasion less and less. Back in those days, to my detriment, I played it safe and hardly ever fucked without a Condom.
I was always the passive one, the Bottom. I developed an affinity for blowjobs, which progressed to getting laid. But my hormones often got the best of me, and I ended up at the bars and baths-rarely-but with increasing frequency. Still I was reluctant to give in to my homosexuality, regarding it as a blemish on my character. I was 35 married 3 kids a good boy, always trying to please more (or less) faithful to my wife, to whom I'd been married for 15 years providing my family with a steady income from my run-of-the-mill accounting job.