Naughty Forty – Chapter 1 Preview

I will be releasing my first erotic novel this month! The first to hear about it, and get the link to purchase it, will be those who are signed up for my email newsletter. Here’s chapter 1 as a preview. If you enjoy it, sign up for the newsletter and look out for the link next week.

Fuck! 40!

That was my first thought as I woke up. My birthday didn’t usually result in such an extreme morning reaction but, as my friends had continued to remind me, I was turning the big four-o!

Thank god this thing still works.

That was my second thought as I reached under the blankets to find my dick as erect and as demanding as it was just about every other morning. I wasn’t necessarily worried that it would switch off overnight, but I knew that age played a part in the effective use of that particular body part. I thanked myself again for being organised enough to take the day off work. Everyone knew why I had taken it off. When the stars align and your big birthday lands on a Friday, it’s kind of expected. But I’d worked hard enough that my business was able to run without me, so I took advantage of it. I could have a sleep-in and spend the day getting ready for the forced celebrations this evening. It would also give me a little bit of time to come to terms with my new age bracket.

In the lead-up to today I had been so determined to not let the milestone get me down. But as I lay in bed absent-mindedly playing with my morning wood, I realised that now that the calendar had actually ticked over, I wasn’t quite as settled in the idea of moving into my 40s.

My family had insisted on marking the occasion with some form of celebration. Mum had suggested a big party. I had quickly shut that idea down. I was desperate to avoid a night of questions about my personal life. Questions about who I was dating, whether there was ‘someone special’ in my life or when I was going to settle down. I had managed to talk her down to a family dinner, thinking then at least I would only need to have those conversations a few times. At last check, the number was 20.

I would suffer through, thanks in large part to the suggestion of my friend Matthew which was that a night at the clubs would follow the dinner. I had quickly agreed to that one, knowing that it would give a reason to leave dinner but also knowing that Matthew was the best wingman a guy could ask for. And hopefully that wingman partnership we had developed over the years would mean something more on my birthday. Again, the benefit of your birthday falling on a Friday pays off.

I kept one hand on my dick as I reached for my phone, which was already full of notifications. The family group chat was full of messages and there were plenty of social media notifications on the screen. I had no doubt that most of those would be gifs and memes making fun of my new position as an ‘elder statesman’. That could wait. I didn’t need too many reminders of the change of decade.

Instead, I opened my favourite ‘dating’ app, thinking that a change in profile name to indicate that it was my birthday would result in at least a couple of offers. I quickly toyed with the idea of ‘Naughty Forty’ but decided against it. I didn’t need to add any more fuel to the ageist fire that these apps had going on. I also wasn’t ready for a landslide of messages from boys with ‘daddy’ issues. I decided on ‘Tom – Birthday Boy’ and began to scroll through the app, hoping that the mid semester break at the university near my place would result in a few students with extra free time needing to blow off some steam.

If they’re into OLD MEN that is.

Old was a word I had been determined not to use in relation to myself but on this occasion the intrusive thought did what it did best, intruded. The urge to scroll through tiles or torsos suddenly wained and I forced myself to swing my legs out from beneath the covers. As I did so my phone pinged with a text from Sarah, my sister. I quickly read the message as I stood up.

Don’t forget. You agreed to meet that guy from my work for brunch. 🙂 10am. Late isn’t a great first impression.

I checked the time. 8:00 am. Yes, that is a sleep-in for a city cafe owner these days. It was lucky Sarah had texted me because I had completely forgotten. A brunch date today wasn’t exactly at the top of my list but I had the morning free and so did he and Sarah had been pestering me. So I agreed. It was the second date I had planned this month. The one with the guy from the shop next door wasn’t so bad. We had texted a few times since but nothing had really come of it. Regardless, I had decided that dipping my toe into the dating scene rather than the hook-up scene wasn’t such a bad thing at my age.

At my age. Fuck off!

I fired a quick text back letting her know that I’d be there and then wandered into the bathroom.

I paused to check myself out in the mirror. I couldn’t help it. I also couldn’t stop myself from trying to picture the abs that had once run down my body. Back when I was 19 and throwing my ass around the uni residences.

They’re never coming back.

My eyes strayed further down to my slowly wilting cock. At least one winning physical feature still remained. The mushroom head that sat atop my almost perfectly straight shaft. I was proud of it. Not in an immodest way, but I had received a number of compliments about the shape and size of it over the years. The men who had joined me in the bedroom used the words ‘pretty’ and ‘perfect’ on a few occasions.

Or in the back room of a club. Or in the university locker rooms.

I watched my cock swell slightly again, obviously aware of the admiration it was receiving and the memories of my younger escapades. I ran my hand slowly along the shaft as it began to grow. I wondered if I should take a moment to enjoy a birthday wank or save it in the hopes of some afternoon or evening activities.

I have a pretty good track record for getting laid on my birthday. Maybe I should hold off and wait for that fun. I didn’t quite have the recharge that I used to. A birthday fuck had become a regular thing, almost a tradition, trying to score something memorable each year. Some of those were particularly noteworthy and hopefully I could spend a bit of time reminiscing today or creating a new memory.

I would certainly welcome that nostalgia and the reminiscing today though, reliving my younger days was surely better than thinking about what my 40s had in store for me. It might also bring me out of this birthday funk. I know they say ‘life begins at 40’ but whoever coined that phrase wasn’t a gay man living in the 21st century.

My phone pinged again, distracting me from my self-pity as I saw Matthew’s name flash up on the screen.

Thomas Turner! Happy Birthday. No matter how old you get, why haven’t you caught me yet? Keen for tonight stud!

For some reason, he preferred Matthew over Matt and for some other reason, I had never even thought of him as a Matt. But he knew that calling me Thomas instead of Tom wound me up. I wouldn’t expect anything less from him on my birthday. We had known each other for years and he knew every button to push. Matthew was older, always was and always would be, but somehow he never stopped being the definition of the ‘devilishly handsome’ cliche. Something that came in handy as a wingman. I smiled as I replied.

Believe me Matt, I’m glad I’m never going to be as old as you! And thanks buddy. Still OK to meet after dinner?

Ending the night at a club with Matthew would end the day on a high and continue the tradition of memorable birthday escapades. Hopefully. Something fun tonight would at least shoo away some of the lingering doubts about my increasing age. And maybe I would end the night with someone else.

Matthew and I had been friends for close to 20 years now, another reminder of how much I had aged. We had met working together at a bar when I was about 21 and we had hit it off straight away. The only two guys working there from the city of Oxley, having both moved north for our chosen university degrees. The fact that one of us was straight and the other one gay had never been an issue for us. The fact that most people meeting us for the first time assumed Matthew was the gay one and not me had never been an issue either. In fact it had resulted in many fun misunderstandings, usually led by one of the two of us.

Despite the difference in our sexuality, we had a lot in common. We both worked in that bar with a desire to own our own one day. We had the same taste in music. We were even attracted to the same type of people, young, slim and looking to learn. The difference was that for Matthew, they had to be female.

While the early days of our friendship had begun to form because of a shared career and shared tastes, the tight bond we now shared was sealed in a trip to MacArthur a few years ago.

15 years ago Tom. You’re 40 now.

It was a quick weekend trip interstate and, aiming to travel on a budget, we had only booked a studio room. One bed, one couch. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping this arrangement would get me a little closer to Matthew that weekend. Most of the ‘straight guy jerk buddy’ erotic fiction I had read started with two buddies sharing a room. I tried my hardest to hint at that on the first night, but it was clear that it either wasn’t Matthew’s thing or he wasn’t picking up on the hints. I was disappointed but also glad, I knew it could have been a risky situation for our friendship. As the years had passed though, that particular kind of bonding had become less likely the longer we remained friends. But the trip had definitely brought us closer together in another way.

On the second night we had each put our wing-manning skills to the test. We had ended up at a gay club on the notorious Morris St. and had both met likely partners for the night more quickly than either of us had expected. The unfortunate coincidence was that both of our prospective partners still lived at home and therefore the option of going back to their place was out. After some quick discussion and a little bit of convincing it was agreed by all that sharing the studio apartment was a very acceptable alternative, considering the circumstances. Matthew’s casual ‘fuck it’ attitude had certainly helped in that regard. A flip of a coin meant I had ended up with the couch, but the view of Matthew going to work on the bed had more than made up for the lack of space or comfort. Even Matthew had admitted to being a little extra turned on that night, more by the overload of sexual energy in the room than the view of his close friend taking dick. That night had sealed the close bond between us. It had confirmed that we were just two horny guys, open enough to take whatever horny experiences were presented to us.

Since that night in MacArthur we had regularly attended gay venues together and quickly become very skilled as each other’s wingman. My plan was to bring Matthew, the definition of tall, dark and handsome, to the club and when the boys inevitably hit on him, Matthew would politely decline and introduce the guy to his gay mate Tom, the real reason we were there. The maybe-not-so-straight vibe that Matthew gave off definitely came in handy here. Most of the guys at the club could sniff out a really straight guy from a mile away and often knew not to bother. But Matthew somehow looked like a possibility to them. That and his looks made a lot of guys think he was worth at least one drink. Matthew was 6‘2“, with shaggy brown hair, a deep tan and a muscular body built up over years of gymnastics training. He had a presence about him as well, a confidence that I admired and from the early days working together, I hoped would rub off on me. All of that combined meant that Matthew often had someone trying to get into his pants, at whatever venue we attended.

Matthew’s plan at the gay bars was different. He had learned on that first trip together that there would often be a few ladies hanging around the gay venues, either with their female friends or their gay male friends. When they were there they had come for a night of drinking and dancing, hoping to avoid the constant attention from a never-ending line of horny, half-drunk straight guys. At a gay bar, all the guys were too busy with each other and often hardly gave the girls a second glance.

That’s when Matthew moved in. The ladies’ guard was a little lower and they were often more open to conversation than they were in a venue where they were propositioned every two minutes. Matthew wasn’t a creep. He was undoubtedly good looking, and charming. He played it well, ensuring that he wasn’t taking advantage of the ladies, just the situation.

After a few months of regular attendance at the gay venues around town, the score between us was about even. Matthew had taken as many girls home from Horizon, our regular home haunt, as I had scored guys. My phone buzzed and another message from Matthew appeared on the screen.

Let me know the time and I’ll have a drink waiting. Divide and conquer again?

I couldn’t help but smile. Divide and Conquer was a particularly fun tactic we had come up with a few years ago. The first time we had succeeded in that particular wingman play on a night out was one of the many events of our friendship that we still talked about.

Fuck yes. Let’s do it.

I fired off a message, put my phone on the counter and turned on the shower.

I thought back to that first Divide and Conquer success story. It had been after I had moved back to Oxley. 10 years ago. One of our standard nights. Matthew had suggested something a little more fun for my 30th birthday. Now though, I stepped into the shower, smiling as I thought back to that night.