Maybe the exact point of the transition was that first rendezvous, when I contrived to visit his cabin on the lake to discuss and lament my dissolving...marriage. We walked and talked in the promising sunshine of early spring. We sat on his porch and he held me as I cried. We talked some more, his kind and understanding words a balm to my aching heart. Some time later, having migrated to chairs in the sunshine of his yard and under the watchful eyes of nesting songbirds, I tapped some unknown. .. I grabbed Taz’s shorts. He looked at me quizzically. I challenged Taz: if he would walk back (which involved crossing a pretty major road) in his (rather stretched) speedo I’d swallow his load. Taz wasn’t fazed at first, he knows I am OK with swallowing cum but I had something else in mind. If he chickened out and put his shorts on, I’d make him swallow my cum, and his own.I do not have the public confidence to do what I was asking Taz to do but if he did, I was happy to swallow my cum and. More

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