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This is the story of my first and only time, best as I remember it. The names have been changed.
Michael was the former fiancée of a girl I once dated, Jill. Michael and Jill had broken off their engagement when he admitted his sexuality to her, and himself (on the other hand, Jill and I broke up because she was a screaming harpy). Although they say that there's no way to tell from the outside, Michael seemed perfectly obvious to me, in his mannerisms. Maybe now that he was 'out', or at least more comfortable with his sexuality, he wasn't afraid to show it. He was around 5'8", naturally blonde, had a ruddy complexion and a developed physique - not "cut" but it was obvious that he had a very physical job. Light construction, I think I was.
Michael and I were at a get-together that our mutual former girlfriend had thrown. As the party wound down to the wee hours, Michael and I were the only ones left there. Jill had gone to bed and one of her friends crashed on the couch. This was a chance I had waited for. I had fantasized about being with a man since I was a teen. I had had several girlfriends and loved having sex with them, yada yada yada, same old story. Reality loves a cliché I suppose.
Michael said he had to get home; I said, "Hey, you wanna get some breakfast or something"?
"Well maybe, but I'm broke."
"I'll buy, I really don't feel like going to sleep yet." We walked outside to our cars, and I asked David if he was seeing anybody. He said no, it had been a month since he had been with anyone. With my heart pounding, I asked, "Would you like to come home with me?"
"Sure," he said blankly, as if the sudden turn of luck wiped his mind otherwise blank. I had not given any previous indication to him that I might be interested in men, so he asked, "Are you sure?"
"Yes," I said, breathless and hoping that momentum would carry this through, if nothing else would.
I drove us to my basement apartment, in downtown. I remember being so nervous about this, that I asked him to hold my hand during the ride. We arrived, and quietly slipped in the door. It's 3 or 4 in the morning and the last thing I wanted was to have any of the neighbors waking up to find me bringing a man home. I didn't turn on any lights; the streetlamp through the blinds made it just light enough in my one-roomer. He was already taking off his shirt when I came up and kissed him, one arm snaking around his back and one hand rubbing the front of his jeans. I wouldn't normally be so direct, and certainly I wanted this experience to last, but nervous energy propelled me forward.
We moved around to sit on the side of the bed, still kissing, and I reached for David's belt. I was fumbling so badly that he just stood up and undid it himself, followed by his jeans. He then took off his underwear, leaving himself naked in front of me. There was no turning back now. I got up and undressed. I sat back down next to him on the bed, kissing him and fondling his cock.
People usually tell of how this next moment in their lives would be a defining one; life-changing. It wasn't for me. Yes, I was still very excited to be in this room, with this man, in this state of undress. But I think I was also hoping for a monster of a cock to suck on, something that would make my years of curiosity well-rewarded. Instead, he seemed quite small, like I was, and peculiarly curved to boot.
Not that it mattered much at the time. I quickly broke away from our kiss, slid to the floor, and knelt in front of his reclining body to take him in my mouth. After only a few moments, he started to make the sounds that signaled an imminent climax. Although I wanted my first taste of another man's semen to be among the experiences of the night, I was afraid that if I did that, he might be finished for the evening. I wanted more.
I got onto the bed and laid back, offering myself to him. I was desperate for him. He put his face between legs and nibbled on my scrotum, kissed my cock. Then, he began to move his lips downward, move my cheeks apart and lick my rosebud. I hadn't expected that; this being my first time with a man, I guess I couldn't have. But I was glad he did. It felt so good to have his tongue against my fleshy hole, to feel it wiggle inward. I was also quite glad that I'd showered before that party.
He then moved his body upward. He took my legs into his hands and held them up. I took the cue and held onto my legs to steady them. God, I wanted him. I wanted this. He guided himself inside me, slowly. There wasn't any pain that I remember, but then Michael wasn't large. He began moving forward into me - my fantasy was coming true. I wasn't really limber enough to allow him to kiss me while he was inside me this way, but I wanted it. I'm a romantic at heart, although looking back, this wasn't about romance.
It wasn't long at all before he started making that noise again, the one that meant that this part of our shared night would soon be over. Hoping to make the most of it, I breathed the first coherent words of our encounter: "come on baby, come inside me". He pushed a little further toward me...I felt him twitch inside me...and he was done. As he panted and slid his torso closer to mine, he kissed me, and slipped out of me. I pulled him close, and cuddled with him.
I asked, "Was it good for you?"
"Oh yeah", he said, slowly and emphatically.
I knew it was 'my turn' now. We tried several positions, with little success. Each one seemed more awkward than the last: missionary, doggie style, cowgirl. We spent the most time on the last one, David riding me as he leaned back for more friction (remember, I mentioned that I'm not large in that department). Finally, I had to admit to him that I wasn't really feeling much from this. He suggested that he take me in his mouth. I went to the bathroom to clean myself off a bit, and returned to the bed. I laid back and was quickly engulfed by Michael's waiting lips. He relished having his first cock in weeks, and lavished me with his tongue. He was very good at it. Eventually, I made that familiar noise...and he easily took all my fluid down his throat. He continued to use his mouth on me, making sure that there was no evidence remaining.
After we dressed, I drove Michael to his car, which was still at Jill's house. I asked if I could call him in the future - "maybe practice makes perfect?" I offered - and he said yes, he was in the book.
Remember how I'd said that another friend of Jill's was sleeping on the couch? He was awake enough to hear us talking about going out together. Knowing that Michael was gay, it could only mean one thing about me, too. Well, Jill, who had already been surprised by a boyfriend who was gay, couldn't take a former boyfriend that was suddenly bisexual. She grilled Michael, and he told the story. They even compared notes and agreed that I was a bit on the small side. The nerve.
I never called Michael. I wasn't angry at his betrayal or anything; I just hoped that making this look like a one-time thing would keep Jill quiet. I would've like to have explore a little more of this side of my sexuality with Michael. But, it's been over a decade since I brought him back to my apartment. And there's never been anyone else.
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