Switching Sides Ch. 02


This move to switching sides was a long process in coming, and it was gradual enough that I didn’t see the inevitability of it for a long time. I certainly was slow in seeing that it was what I wanted. I fought it for years—but not so consciously that I realized for some time that it even was a fight. I thought it was something just there as a choice I wasn’t making because I wouldn’t like the consequences. My life was fine without complete sexual satisfaction—or so I thought for the longest time.

The inkling that I was aroused by men—more so than by women, who, I’ll acknowledge, I didn’t have much trouble getting it up for as well—came in the years that I transitioned in New York from commercial ad photography of all varieties to fashion photography, first of women models and then, increasingly, of men as well. Slowly, nude photography drifted into this as an aside and, because it paid well and aroused me, I also photographed, tastefully posed, of course, sex acts and couplings for private collections. Initially these were of heterosexual couples, but they drifted into poses between women. Increasingly these became couplings between men. If I was aware that the solo and coupled poses of men aroused me more than others, I sublimated that. I managed to put that in the background for as polatlı escort long as I worked in New York. And, eventually, because there was a market for it, I was photographing only men.

I never, in New York, though, advanced to including myself in the photo shoots. I may have masturbated to copies of the photos later, but I’d done that with the photos of heterosexual couplings as well, and when I was working I was concentrating on the sensuality of the poses and acts themselves rather than the genders—or so I told myself.

That was where I met Caroline. She was a model who was really easy on the eyes and who had a husky southern accent—she was from a wealthy family in Charleston, South Carolina—that sent chills up my spine. She was somewhat of a Martha Stewart type—she had a highly successful southern-style interior design and culinary business—and had entered modeling as well by being her own spokesperson in commercial ad layouts and being encouraged to go from there into fashion modeling on the side. The modeling enhanced her home accents consulting business.

I first photographed her for the commercial layouts and then moved with her into the fashion model photography and then, at her invitation, into the more intimate poses. She let me know in pursaklar escort no uncertain terms that she was available to me, and we started sleeping together somewhere along that route. She wasn’t the only photographic subject I slept with, but they were all women. No matter how, eventually, I found I was aroused by men as well, I was so far into denial that I only slept with women during my years working in New York.

Caroline was the only one from that period of my life who I married as well, and, both of us seeking a change in our lives, we moved out of New York into a new, shared life. We bought a B I had the money too and had offered to buy Caroline out but she’d refused—out of spite, I thought. So, that was that. I’d been looking at other properties in Cape May, but Peter was finally getting through to me. I couldn’t stay in Cape May and get on with a new life, what Peter kept calling “switching sides.” If I couldn’t stay for any other reason, it was because Caroline seemed determined to stay and run the B this is all hypothetical—would he be a man you would like to fuck?”

“Yes, of course. And more,” I said. “You and he are more than sex partners—you are life partners too. I wouldn’t think of going after him, but, yes, I find him very arousing.”

“Well, sincan escort there are more like him where he came from, and the Turkish coast is a tourist haven. I’m sure Turkey would benefit from another small seaside hotel there. And there are plenty of young men there, like Ergon, who would salivate over a hunky American like you. You’re aging well, Cliff. Did anyone ever tell you you are the spitting image of that movie star—?”

“Yes, I think you’ve said that a dozen times yourself, Peter,” I said, cutting him off from the overfamiliar comparison.

Thus it was that we started cruising the Internet, looking for buildings on the Turkish coast that could be renovated into a small B&B. The search narrowed on the coast around Kusadasi, the port city that served the popular tourist destination of the ruins of the biblical city of Ephesus. The area was ideal for my purposes, or so Peter insisted.

Peter didn’t let me catch my breath once I’d said that maybe I was interested. He did all of the planning of buying that property and two others nearby, one at the seaside and one in the mountains, via the Internet and all of my travel arrangements, including a short stop in Rome, where I was to find that he had other plans for me as well.

“Who the hell buys a stone pile needing renovation that’s located in a faraway country they’ve never even visited?” I asked.

“You do. The new you does,” Peter answered. “The man who is going to totally change his lifestyle. The man who is going to switch sides and start to have a life—to live life to its fullest.”

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