Ty and I are bimarried men. Although we love our wives and families, we meet secretly, when we can, for man to man sex. When we were asked by Bi-married.com to tell our stories, we initially wanted to decline. However, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that it is these stories that need to be told. Stories of "normal" men dealing with a seemingly abnormal desire. Stories not painted with pornography or graphic sex scenes but rather honest true stories of bimarried men. Here's the nitty gritty on our story told from my point of view. In my humble opinion, Ty has a much more interesting story to share. However, he's 13 years older than me with 3 kids and I will continue to entreat him to compose it so we can mail it in and get it posted here on the web.

My name? Well, for now, I'll call myself, "Kent" and like an AAA meeting, here is my virtual standing in front of my peers and declaring, "yes, I am a bi-married male" (hopefully with polite applause and a quick passing of the warm chocolate chip cookies and a beer). I am married, I love my wife, am starting a family, go to church, play softball, work-out, vote in every election, serve on a city committee, and, I am having passionate sex with another married man. Neither my wife, my co-workers, my pastor, nor any one else on this planet, save for my lover, has the slightest clue of my double life. Ditto for Ty. I am neither defending, nor condoning, nor suggesting that you follow my lead. I will be honest up front and say that I have not even begun to resolve this dichotomy. I am merely sharing my story with you because I know that many men reading this will have already been through what I am going through (and, can help me out), or, are about to go through what I went through and need to not feel so alone.

I guess saying the word, "alone", is the reason why I am writing this and why I submitted this story. Until I met other men, I felt very alone, and worried that I was going crazy. I thought, foolishly, that I was the only man on the planet who was married, wanted to have sex with men, but also loved his wife. There is much pain in hiding your deep feelings from your soul-mate, your wife, and I was bearing it all alone. So here it is, my story. Written, almost unedited, as it pours from my mind into this computer. The purpose? To help me focus on what has happened to me, what is happening to me, and what my future might hold. More importantly, this story is for you. A man, in a committed marriage, who feels alone with his desires.

I am 27 years old, avg. height, build, and looks (although my wife considers me handsome). I have a nice home in a fashionable cookie cutter neighborhood and we each own a SUV. You can see me in PTA meetings, school boards, the library, an afternoon softball game, or in the office across from you. I come from a small Nebraska town where I went to college and met my future wife. It was a story book romance replete with shared classes, romantic dates, and sex (lot's of sex). We dated all through college and upon graduating, we entered a 2 year engagement and then married. We bought our first house, started our careers, bought a dog, went to church, and did all the Christmas card couple things that a normal married couple does. We haven't started our family yet but that is coming soon. Sounds normal so far as the audience waits for the ax murderer to jump out from behind the white painted door and shatter the ambiance. Sometimes, that might have been easier because all the while, I was denying the true feelings that I had successfully, or, so I thought, buried deep inside of me. I'll be honest, I was hoping that marriage and career would have afforded me the mental power necessary to totally squash this inherent desire for another man that has always lurked inside of me.

As a child, I can remember watching the 6 million dollar man and getting turned on by him. I loved getting the JC Penny or Sears catalogs and immediately flipping to the gorgeous men clad in their virgin white bulging underwear. As a teenager, my parent's shouldn't have been concerned about finding porno mags in my sock drawer; I didn't need any. There were plenty of hunk men in the catalogs that we were getting to satisfy any young curiosity. I walked home from school one day and found an "international male" in the ditch. Let me tell you, that was a banner day for me, my arm, and my body as I basically pumped myself into oblivion looking at those men. All the while no one suspected, no one knew, not one breath or thought would have even, ever, been pointed that direction. I was to the world the straightest, most upright man alive. I am by no means a "flaming" gay and with great hypocrisy, detest the gay or drag queen lifestyles.

"Nurture" or "Nature"? So argue the psychologists on what causes men to be gay. Unusually, I never considered myself gay and never could even formulate the word in my mind and associate myself with it. For my own record, my parents were normal, church going, loving parents. They were products of their generation and probably could have hugged me a little more but there was not the "aggressive" mother nor "passive" father. There were fishing trips, and tuna casseroles, picnics, ballgames, Christmases, and cookies. I never "experimented" in highschool, nor had any male flings in college. I was never raped, nor abused, had no "stay away from him" uncles, nor was I exposed to any lifestyle other than a good American family could provide. In my own analytical mind, the environment should have fostered a perfectly normal, "straight", man. However, this is not the case. I am cursed, or blessed, with an innate desire for men; something that is as inseparable from me as my arm or leg although I have kept this desire completely and totally hidden. When I met my wife, I thought my problem was solved. I state now, so you can keep this in mind, that I love my wife, love my career, my life, my home, all the trappings, security, and comfort which comes with marriage. I love the institution of marriage, it's traditions, the family unit, the binding ties, the hugs, the kids, the Sunday afternoons sock clad feet curled up by the fireplace. I totally and completely embrace the need, the foundation, the desire, the love that comes with marriage and is needed to sustain marriage.

So, why do I risk my marriage, risk my career, my life by having a sexual relationship with another married man? That, my friends, is something I grapple with every day. As the years in my marriage went by, I would find myself going through the mechanics of making love to my wife, but left wanting something more. I reach a climax during every love making session so my body was getting what it needed, but, my mind was getting nothing that it needed. At one point during love making (okay, I'll be honest, at MANY points), I found my mind wandering to fantasizing about men and found that this turned me on even more. As the years whipped by, the rift between my hidden inner gay world and my Normal Rockwell outerworld was reaching a breaking point. My wife was sensing that some inner turmoil problem was going on with me.

Then, one day, the worst thing that could have happened to my marriage happened. Without warning, without preparation, it totally and completely caught me with my pants down. No man that even has the slightest thoughts about another man could have survived what happened. I came home one day to find a new computer sitting on my office desk. Yes, a new computer. That damn f@#$%&g computer, that portal to hell, that beige plastic mistress which sits waiting, wanting, beckoning on my office desk. Who knew that use of a search engine trying to find bolts for a deck one day would lead me to "muscled hunks just for you". Since when does entering "washer machines" bring up "Carl Hardwick, the man's man", or "Steve Ryker washes cu#@ from his body, come see"? My god, just when you know you'll never stop by that adult corner book store (at least not in THIS town), here's the corner bookstore at your fingertips. I found myself spending a little more free-time each day exploring, completely, and forming into words what had formerly existed only as vague thoughts deep in my mind. The day I downloaded a 30 second, grainy video clip, I thought I was going to die. I almost explosively relived my tensions (we all know what that really means) just watching.

If there is a visual equivalent to crack cocaine, then it has to be the gay porn which is so prevalent on the web. Men, who normally would NOT visit an adult bookstore can now, at the touch of her button, explore more of a man than they ever had the opportunity to, even in the most crowed gym shower. Well, you can probably see where this is going. My mind now was screaming now to meet a man. I had to touch a man, to kiss a man, to hold, to be held, to do all sorts of formerly unmentionable sexual things to a man, in all ways. We'll talk the fetishes which developed within me at a later date; let's just say for now that my career and its occasional overlap with military and commanding figures is extremely enticing.

All the while, this hurricane was breaking loose inside of me, I was still forcing myself to maintain a totally and completely normal, if not even boring, outside appearance. On a Saturday, a pastoral scene of me mowing my road would have never revealed the raging thoughts in my mind of me in a unfortunate traffic incident with Carl Hardwick and Steve Ryker (for those who are new to this, these are extremely hunky porn stars). Or, how at a funeral, while I was comforting a relative, how my uncontrollable mind was toying with the concept of a quick tryst with a heavily muscled pall bearer. A day at the park with my wife and family finds me strategically positioning our picnic table so I can get a full (albeit quick glancing) view of the shirts-off college tag football game. The wild animal had been let loose and it was hungry. It was NOT going to go back into its cage until it had been fed and if I didn't feed it, it was going to eat me, alive. Something was going to happen. In the movies, this is the part where the hapless victim is cleaning tomatoes in the kitchen sink and the side pantry door creaks ever so slowly; just enough to where we can see the shiny glint of a sharp blade. No, I wasn't going to go violent. This is not in my nature. I was merely feeling trapped. I wanted my marriage, I loved my wife, I loved my career, but (that damning word, "but", ever present) but, I had to feel, be held, be kissed, be made love to by another man. If this didn't happen to me soon, then I knew that somehow I was going to crack and probably lose everything.

Some reading this would probably find me selfish. Isn't the sacrament of marriage full of cleaving unto one another and only one another? Did I not exchange vows with this wonderful woman and mean it? True, there are probably men who come to this line and don't cross it. I envy them for their strength of mind. I am not that strong and somehow, my mind began rationalizing what I was about to do. "But, Kent", I would say in my most deceiving voice, "marriage vows are all about another woman, you're going to fool around with another MAN and you two have no intention of divorcing". "Hmm....go on", I remember myself saying, "yes, I'm listening....". "Well then..", I continued, even more greasy, "if you are meeting another man then it can't be cheating can it? Moreover, if he is also married and loves his wife, then it's all okay". Goodness, that took about two milliseconds to convince myself to go forward with this crazy endeavor. I not only parsed the meaning of the word, "is", I sliced it, diced it, and served it with au jus on a gleaming silver platter. I made the decision, or rather, my genetic make-up made the decision for me. I was going to, somehow, meet another man.

My beige mistress, terminal glowing with the latest pic from "hairy bodies are us", slyly suggested that I visit an on-line chat room. What an invention, the chat room! Here is a live world of complete anonymity where anything can be said (and usually is) to anyone. Army captains can become cross dressing transvestites. A dentist can be a sex slave boy toy. To me, it's almost the virtual equivalent of a sales convention but instead of name tags which say, "Hello, my name is George, I sell USED CARs", you get "Hello, my name is LeanNMean, I'm a 6' 2" hardbody stud with 9 in., cut, muscled legs, and hairy body". I will admit, when I logged on, my "stats" description for my log in identifier, "flyboy", hid the fact that I shaved 5 years off my age, firmed up my jaw, lost 20 pounds, and gained 2 inches in penis length. What the hell. I was new to this and still had a great deal to learn.