I found myself at a gay bath house in Coral Gables FL, near the University of Miami, after returning from a trip to Grand Cayman. I had some time on my hands, as my plane did not leave until the next day in the afternoon.

Things were not good on the home front. I was on the verge of a divorce and there was nothing I could do about it.

I figured to stay awhile and spend the night. As bath houses go, you can find some good ones and some bad ones. This place was one of the good ones. Being in Florida it was warm all year and a lot of the action took place outside. The complete facility was surrounded by a high stone fence. In fact you really did not even know what it was by driving by.

I checked in with the desk clerk and was given a towel and a sheet for the bed. I always would get a room, if any were available. Today I lucked out. There were plenty of rooms, but it was still early. I went to my room, put on the sheet, took off my clothes and stored them in the locker in the room. Then I went for the exploratory tour of the place, to get the lay of the land.

I quickly discovered that this bath house had an outdoor swimming pool, surrounded by lounge chairs, about half of them filled with naked men. There was also an outside bar serving alcoholic beverages for those who wanted them. Of course, there were all the other things that you would expect in a gay bath house, including a pitch black play room, other play areas and a number of video rooms, all playing gay porno films. Of course there were lots of other private rooms just like mine, a few with the doors slightly open.

Having finished the tour, I went into the pitch black play room, where it seemed most of the action was going on. It was not long before I found a warm mouth on a guy that knew what he was doing. It was my policy to go for a quick one, when I first got to a bath house and that certainly was my intention today. It was not long before I gave him a big load of my jizz, as it had been over a week since I had any action in any form, man, woman or my hand.

After about an hour or so, in walked a blond-haired, blue-eyed, six foot guy who really got my juices going. I forgot that I had cum only a couple of hours before. This guy was hot hot hot. Not only that, but he certainly knew what he was doing when it came to cock-sucking. This guy was an expert. While the first blow job of the evening was great, I was beginning to wonder if all the guys in Florida had taken some kind of "how to give a blow job" course. Or maybe there was instructional material in one of the video rooms. Regardless, he know exactly how to get my second load out and loved every minute of it.

After I came, he did not simply get up and leave the room as most cock-suckers do. At this stage in my bi life, I was not really into cock-sucking. I didn't think I knew what to do very well. But I decided to give it the good old college try. He was not the first cock that I had sucked, but not too far from it. Apparently he did not think I was such a bad cock sucker, because it was not long before I got a huge load out of him.

He still didn't leave. He asked me what my name was, what I was doing in town, how long I would be in town and other small talk. I told him that I was returning from a SCUBA diving trip in Grand Cayman. It had been a week long trip, but no sex.

I asked him his name and he said Jerry, and that he lived not far from the bath house. I asked how often he came here and he said not too often as he is usually working in the evenings till midnight. Our conversation turned to when my plane for Washington was leaving and I told him not until the next afternoon. He got a big smile on his face, and he asked me to come to his place for the night. He promised I would get to the airport in time to catch my plane. He wanted to get one more load out of me.

"Great," I said, it would me a decent place to sleep, and if not I could always leave. I knew I had at least one more load to get out.

He lived in Key Biscayne, a small island just south of Miami. Both Caddyshack and Deep Throat were filmed in Key Biscayne or very close to it.

Since I had a rental car, he told me to follow him to his place and even made sure I had the correct change for the toll bridge going to the island.

We arrived at a very nice four story apartment about two blocks from the ocean, although, I did not know that at the time. His apartment was on the third floor. We entered Apt.3C, it was very clean and orderly, nothing seemed to be out of place. He offered me a drink and then fixed one for himself too. We sat on his couch holding each other while we drank our drinks.

He did not seem to be in any hurry to bed me again. We sat and talked, each about our situation in life, where it had taken us and what we wanted in the future. Since I was almost divorced at this time, I told him that I truly did not know what I wanted, that I was still not very strong emotionally.

Eventually in the early hours of the next day we ended up naked in his bedroom. The sex was fantastic. There was a lot of 69ing going on. I eventually got load number two out of him. He started in earnest on my cock and I was really enjoying it.

Suddenly he stopped and asked me if I wanted to fuck him. I had not had a lot of experience fucking guys, but I said sure and proceeded to fuck my new found friend. He enjoyed it, I enjoyed it. I should have started this a lot earlier in my sexual life too. Seems like I am always the last guy to know.

We fell asleep in each others arms. Perhaps one of the reasons we could be so emotionally close and let it all hang out, was because the next day, I would get on a plane and never see him again. Somehow that made it all work.

In the morning we slept late. I found a nice warm mouth on my cock when I woke, and I returned the favor. My emotions were running rather high and I think I cried just a bit after I came. After he held me in his arms awhile, he said, "We better get something to eat. It's almost noon." He made me a delicious breakfast, but I no longer remember what it was.

After we ate, we went for a walk on the beach. It was so comfortable to be with another man. It was time for me to head to the airport. I gave him a big kiss, but not before we had exchanged phone numbers. We promised to call, but I wondered if we ever would.

I arrived at the airport without incident, turned in the car, checked into the flight and waited quite a while for the plane back to Washington. I never had so much sex in such a short time, except on my wedding night. I had a lot on my mind: was this what is was like to be gay? could I live as a gay man? why did he have to be in Miami and not Washington? He was extremely kind, he listened to my troubles, and actually showed some empathy for my situation. Life was not good in Washington for me.

When I got off the plane in Washington, nothing was resolved; all of my problems just seemed bigger to me now. The only way I could survive was to throw myself into my work. And that is what I attempted. I decided not to call him. I would just sound like a little wimp, begging to be held and taken care of. I must get him out of my mind and on with life.

So, I threw myself into my work, at least as much as I could. Then one evening late, maybe 11 or 12 PM, the phone rang. It was Jerry. It was mostly a "Hi how are you" sort of thing, nothing special – yes, he missed me, but did not mention some way to be together again. He asked that I call him in a week, and I said I would.

In a week, I called and in the course of the conversation, I told him that I missed him, and he said that he missed me too. He was so happy that we had spent a night of bliss together and wished that we could do it again. He invited me down to see him again, but an airplane ticket was expensive for just one night. He suggested that I make it for the whole weekend, come down on Friday evening, and return on Sunday afternoon. I said I would look into it, but sort of dismissed it as a crazy idea, to actually fly to Florida for a weekend fling.

Then one day, while I was feeling a bit down, I picked up the phone and called Eastern Airlines and discovered that they offered a non-stop from Dulles to Miami every day about 5 PM. And the cost was not too excessive. Maybe this could work after all.

I went home from work that evening, called Jerry, and told him what I had found out. He told me to just do it, just get on the plane; he would pick me up at the airport. So I arranged to fly to Florida, have Jerry pick me up, and have a little bit of fun. About a week later I did just that. Jerry was at the gate waiting for me. We both lit up with big smiles, and left the airport in his car. He told me that the car used to be his Mother's before she died and he inherited it.

He never talked about any brothers or sisters, even whether he had any or not. He never talked about ever being married; however, he did tell me one time about when he got pulled over by the cops in a cruising area. They found a picture of him and his daughter in his wallet. We never discussed it further.

But on another occasion, he said he had no kids and had never been married. I wondered at that, but said nothing.

He was a bar tender at a local bar and usually had to work until midnight or so. However, he managed to get off to see me whenever I came down – and there were many trips to see Jerry. I think he helped keep me sane when I was in the midst of a very nasty divorce. His house always well kept and clean. The porno magazines were stashed under the couch, never left on the coffee table. There did not seem to be much personal stuff in the apartment, just the minimal things that one would need. However it was decorated rather nicely, with statues and lamps here and there.

On one of the trips to see Jerry, he told me about a lady named Viola, who lived down the street in the high rise apartment and who owned a yacht that she kept in the local marina. He asked if I would like to meet her, and I agreed.

She lived in a gorgeous apartment, complete with a grand piano. She had two kids that did not have much to do with her. She treated Jerry like a son. On days off, Jerry would go to the marina and clean the yacht from stem to stern. Now this yacht was not small; in fact, anytime Viola wanted to take it out with some friends, she would hire a captain for the day. Her husband had passed a few years ago and left her enough money, so that she did not have to worry about a thing. Viola, seemed to accept the gay lifestyle of Jerry and me, and was genuinely happy that Jerry had someone in his life.

One trip to Florida, we went to see Viola, and she offered to let Jerry and I sleep on the yacht. He had spent most of the day cleaning it. Of course, we took her up on the offer immediately. In fact we spent the night on her yacht many times. The entire fantail of the yacht was glass-enclosed and one could see all the harbor lights by standing in the fantail section. There were seats build in right next to the glass walls. I would bend Jerry over the seats and look at all the the night time harbor lights while I was fucking him. Every once in awhile a boat would pass, but I don't think they could see us.

But at this time, I had never let him fuck me, I guess I wasn't there yet. We would sleep in one of the bedrooms and be swayed to sleep by the gentle waves in the bay. In the morning, I would wake up with a mouth around my cock or perhaps vice versa; eventually we would cook something in the galley; and then go about our day, most likely stopping in to see Viola and usually having lunch with her. We all became very good friends. But she never invited either of us on a cruise in the yacht. We were kept at a certain distance, which did not bother me at at all.

As the trips continued, we became closer and were telling each other every thing, or so I thought. Jerry knew of a gay restaurant in Hollywood – Hollywood, Florida, that is – and suggested that we go there. Indeed we did. It was a hot place. Most of the staff was gay or at least gay friendly. They were totally accepting of us, and served us well. One time the host at the front asked how many, and I said,"Two, I think, unless I got him pregnant last night" He asked if I tried really hard, but didn't think that would happen. We all had a good laugh. After dinner was over, our waiter actually said, "Desert, Gentlemen? Or are you saving that for when you get home" We told him it would be at home and he said, "Thank you for coming in. Have fun tonight." Like I said, this was a hot hot place and very accepting and laid back. We often went to this restaurant.

As the fucking continued, I eventually began to think that I was missing something by not getting fucked by Jerry. He would often rim me, and to this day, that drives me crazy. I would beg him to fuck me, and his response was always, "You're not ready yet." This continued for a number of months, but eventually he did stick first one finger and then two fingers in my ass. I loved it. I thought I must be some sort a closet bottom.

I kept asking him to fuck me and always got the same response: "You're not ready yet" The one night after I had fucked him silly, he began to work on me, first with some rimming, then one, then two and then three fingers up my ass, all well-lubed.

I loved every second of it! Finally he put me on my back and very slowly put his cock just barely inside of my ass. He looked at my expression on my face and when I had relaxed – the poppers helped – he forced it in the rest of the way, and once again just held it there until I had relaxed. He then proceeded to give me my first fuck. I had been a total virgin when it came to getting fucked.

In the morning we went for a walk on the beach, and I told him, "I now know how a bride feels on the morning after her wedding." As we where approaching his apartment, I whispered in his ear, "Fuck me again" His teasing reply was, "You're not ready yet" Of course, he was kidding, and as soon as we got inside, he did me again. It was even better than my first fucking. After that, every time I would come down for a weekend, there was at least one fuck for each of us. I loved it all, giving and taking.

On another trip, Jerry suggested that I bring some clothes to his place to leave in an empty dresser drawer that was all mine to use. This was really nice; no longer did I have to pack anything, just get on the plane and head south to Florida. Anything that I wore on the weekend was always washed, ironed, and put back in the dresser, for my next trip. One time I was getting ready to return home, but Jerry said that my shirt was too wrinkled too fly home. He proceeded to iron the shirt before he took me back to the airport. That was just the type of caring guy he was. I was getting close to wanting to be with him 24-7.

We discussed living together, and it was decided that it would be much more difficult for me to find a job in Florida that him in Northern Virginia or even Washington. So we made some plans for him to come up to my place for the weekend. The intention was for him to start looking for work, but we spent the whole weekend either in bed or seeing the sites. Looking for work just did not happen. I was not too concerned, as we could do that on another trip. I still have pictures that Jerry took of me on his trip to the DC area. I was now even more excited to be with him, perhaps right here in Virginia. He brought me a plaque to hang on the wall. It reads:

The plaque, to this day, is hanging in my man-cave where no one would think to even ask about it. But I know it is there and where it came from. There have been many times when I would read it and think about the things that it said.

The next time I went down to see him, he told me that we were going to a gay resort for the weekend. Wow, what could be nicer than that. Indeed we did. It was an old place, but well kept up, in Miami Beach area, but across the road from the beach access. There was a rather large pool in the back of the hotel, packed with good-looking guys in bikinis. They had a small store behind the pool that sold bikinis along with snacks. I bought a new bikini swim suit, that Jerry had picked out. I kept it for many years.

We spend our time at the pool, or in our room fucking or blowing each other. One time the maid walked in on us. I was embarrassed, but she wasn't. She just said, "Sorry. Carry on," and left. And that is exactly what we did - we carried right on. Life could not have been better, or so I thought.

I did not know it at the time, but Jerry had already lost his apartment.

On the next trip, Jerry admitted to me that he had 'lost' his apartment and that we were going to spend the weekend at a motel where he was staying. He had gotten all of my clothes out of the apartment and put them in the trunk of the car he inherited from his mother. The motel was an old run-down place, but at least I was there with Jerry.

When I asked him what happened he did not want to talk about it, but did admit that he had lost his job, but was working again at another bar. He had to work that Saturday night, the first time since I had known him, so was not free until 2 AM when the bar closed. We barely got any sex in on that trip, but I had hopes that this was just temporary. After all, he had a very nice apartment when I first met him. This was so much out of character, or so I thought, and hoped it would all be settled by the next trip down to Miami. But I did take all of my clothes back with me on the return flight.

I did not hear from Jerry for a number of weeks, and I could not call him, as his phone was disconnected. I was really lost, as I so much wanted to speak to him and see how he was doing. Finally about a month after my previous trip, I got a call from Viola. She told me that she did not know where Jerry was, had not heard from him and was concerned, and asked if I would come down to Miami to help look for him. Of course, I was on the plane that weekend. Viola picked me up at the airport, a real change from Jerry picking me up so many times. Viola and I went to dinner and discussed where he might be at. I told here about some of the places that we had frequented and she asked if I would go to them to see if Jerry had been there. We had a picture of Jerry, but not much else. I went to most of our old hangouts, such as the resort in Miami Beach, the run-down motel, and even the gay restaurant in Hollywood. All to no avail.

It was on this trip that Viola told me that she had paid the deposit, the first month's rent, and the last month's rent on Jerry's apartment, shortly before I had met him. In fact, she even furnished the apartment for him. She told me that on a recent visit she made to his apartment, shortly before he disappeared, some of the finer art works were missing. She thought maybe he had had someone over who grabbed them on the way out. She also told me that he was an alcoholic, attempting to work as a bar tender, but always getting on the wrong end of the bottle. Viola first met him at the bar where he was working when I met him all these long months ago. Now neither Viola nor I knew where he was, and neither of us knew if he had any other friends. I sort of doubt it. Viola was very good to him, and treated him much like a son, and she opened her home to me, while we were looking for Jerry.

The weekend quickly ended without Jerry and a long miserable flight back to the DC area. There was still no contact at all with either Viola or me. Viola had told me that she was going to place a missing persons report on the following Monday morning. I asked her to keep in touch if she found anything out.

About a month later, my phone rang one evening. It was Jerry. He had showed up at Viola's front door, broke, dirty, and with no place to turn to. Viola had taken him, and given him her spare bedroom. Jerry wanted me to come to Viola's place to see him, but I was so distraught over not having heard from him for three months, that I refused. I could simply not put myself through it all again.

Had I believed that Jerry and I had something going for us? You bet I did. I did not contact Jerry at Viola's any more and he did not call me.

I think that may be what made me bisexual rather than gay; sometimes what happens in our life affects us tremendously. I went on with my life dating women as well as seeing a few guys on the side, but there was never any feeling for them. I think I was just too hurt, and too stupid to realize what I had gotten into with my Miami friend and lover.

After a long period of silence, Viola called me to tell me that Jerry was very sick. I simply told her to give him my best. There was nothing more to say.

Some years ago, I attempted to find out what further I could online, but there was no trace of Jerry or of Viola. Jerry most likely died of AIDS or alcoholism and Viola of old age. May they both rest in peace. I still think of them on occasion.

This is a true story that happened many years ago. Sorry that it is so long. I am not sure why I wrote it, but would love your comments, thanks.

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