Don't read if illegal in your area of the world, or if your underage. Constructive comments welcomed, flames ignored
The following is a true story...
My first time with another guy happened when I was 16 years old. His name was Mark. Mark was two years older than I. Mark was the son of friends of the family. He flew in from the state of Tennessee to Colorado and worked for my father in a family owned business in the summer of 1977, staying in our house with us for the entire summer.
Mark was about 6 feet tall, and possessed a thick mane of jet black hair, dark green eyes, clear skin than took a tan easily and evenly, straight white teeth, a deep, masculine voice, broad muscular shoulders, smoothed skinned, a flat, taut stomach coupled with a very narrow waist and a bubble butt. He had an engaging personality, and knew how to make other people like him and think well of him. My parents both fawned over him enthusiastically, no doubt wishing that their sons were as handsome and successful. Girls swarmed him at church, at school, at the pool, at the malls. Wherever Mark was, he was always on the receiving end of warm smiles from both men and women and flirtatious looks from pretty girls.
Mark was physically perfect. He was everything I was not. I was shorter than he was, with dirty blond hair, hazel eyes. I am also very fair skinned with a distinct tendency towards unattractive redness and freckles when over-exposed to the sun. I was also very skinny, but was also slightly pot-bellied along with being too thin, with no muscles to speak of at all. I had awful acne, huge red blots on my face and around my nose that no amount of medication and visits to a dermatologist could cure. I had slightly crooked teeth, a high-pitched voice, was shy and withdrawn, with virtually no social skills at all.
Interestingly, Mark's sister, Barbara, found me attractive and even attempted to kiss me once while I was in Tennessee visiting. She was a pretty, sparkling girl, and I liked her a great deal. However, Mark let me know that I was to stay away from his sister or there would be hell to pay from him and his older brother. He once tore a letter I was writing out of my hands and savagely wadded it up, which frightened me enough to stay away from Barbara after his warning.
Mark did not like me; he never did. Mark did, however, like my younger brother. Since I was older than my brother, I had a car provided by my father, and Mark did not have a car when he spent the summer with us. So, it often fell out that after work, I would drive the three of us to a mall, or to go see a movie, or to the local pool to swim. So, I was around Mark most of that summer, but it was clear that Mark was not interested in being friends with me and treated me accordingly.
While I found his sister Barbara and other pretty girls very attractive, I was awkward and ill at ease with girls in general and instead found it much more convenient to admire Mark's physical beauty as I was around him so much at work and in the evenings. I emulated Mark's mannerisms and forced myself to lower the pitch of my voice and studied the way he held his hands and the way he walked. I wasn't trying to make myself more acceptable to him. Rather, I observed how successful he was at getting along with other people and I wanted to be more like him in that regard.
About half the summer went by, and Mark gradually became aware of my watching him, or more accurately, of my admiration of his body. While he'd always been somewhat sarcastic and scornful dealing with me, he became even more so with his discovery of my dirty secret. When the three of us boys would go swimming, we would change in the locker room at the pool and shower afterwards. I always tried to avoid looking at Mark's nude body, but sometimes couldn't resist a quick peek--and I always found him watching my eyes when I'd look. Although possessed of a beautiful, robust physique, Mark was not well-endowed sexually. He had a smallish penis, circumsized, as I was, with a small set of testicles held in a small, but droopy scrotum. He caught me looking at his crotch at least twice in the locker room. His lip would curl with disdain, and once he turned his body towards me in a quick, contemptuous motion with his hands spread out as if to allow me to take a better look at his genitals. As we were in a crowded locker room with other people near at hand and observing his display of overt hostility I blushed violently in my humiliation and I did not look at or speak to him again for days afterwards.
One evening, late in the summer, something changed.
Mark and I happened to be alone in the house, as my parents were traveling with my younger siblings, and so we were going to be alone for the entire night. Mark and I had worked all day and I was tired.
I jumped in the shower when we got home, and after a little while, Mark showered too. I settled on the couch to watch TV when Mark emerged from the bathroom clad only in his white briefs. I was surprised, because it was not usual for anyone to wander around the house in their underwear. However, I instantly became very determined not to look at Mark because I was in no mood for any more of his scorn nor did I want him to have an excuse to physically attack me as he had occasionally threatened in the past.
Mark proceeded to stretch out on the carpet in front of the TV with his head towards the screen and his feet towards me and we both watched the program for awhile without saying a word to each other. I did take the opportunity, in spite of myself, to admire Mark's broad back, and the curves of Mark's buttocks under his briefs and his long, clean legs. His hair was shaggy from his shower. He was so beautiful, and he knew it.
After about an hour of watching TV, Mark stretched and made a grimace, and commented that he'd pulled a muscle in his back. I made some kind of non-committal remark in the way of an answer. While I wasn't VERY surprised that he was talking to me, I was on my guard and wasn't quite sure what he was up to, but I could tell he was up to something--and that something probably wasn't going to be good for me.
Presently, Mark stretched again, and then asked me if I wouldn't mind rubbing his back? I shrugged as casually as I could, though I instantly became nervous and said okay with a voice that I knew shook slightly.
I knelt on the floor beside his prone body and timidly began sweeping my hands across his broad shoulders, trying to find which specific muscle was knotted but really didn't feel I was being very effective. All his back muscles felt hard to me, and I soon realized that I was too unskilled to be able to tell if a particular muscle was in a spasm or not.
Mark told me that I was hurting his back pushing from the side, and he told me to straddle his hips. I awkwardly did as he requested, very thankful I had thick jeans on as I did so because I suddenly found the new position quite erotic and I could feel the pressure from my penis as it swelled with my arousal.
I continued to rub his shoulders as best as I could, while at the same time furiously willing my erection to subside as I was sure that Mark would have beaten me up thoroughly if he felt even a hint of such a thing. I was highly aroused, but confused and frightened of being trapped somehow at the same time into making a mistake that would enable Mark to expose me to shame or otherwise hurt me in some way. A very interesting, and a very rare combination of feelings.
I rubbed and rubbed Mark's shoulders until my erection did at last diminish and went away and I began to feel somewhat calmer. My arms began to get tired, and I scooted down a little bit and started to think of ending the massage session, when slowly, and deliberately, Mark's left hand crept down his side, and he hooked his thumb in the waistband of his briefs and slowly pulled them about halfway down his buttocks.
I gaped at the creamy skin thus revealed with the dark cleft of his buttocks right underneath my face!
"Rub down lower." Mark urged in a muffled voice.
My heart was pounding, my throat dry. Suddenly, I developed tunnel vision, and felt that I was close to fainting. I fiercely got control of myself and my hands swept over Mark's lower back, just brushing the very tops of the white, velvety skin of the twin globes of flesh he had so seductively revealed.
When I began touching the soft curves of his buttocks, and had swept my hands back and forth several times, Mark pulled his briefs even lower in an obvious invitation. He was completely silent though and offered no further instructions.
"He wants me to massage his butt!" I thought to myself in utter shock and amazement.
I began to feel a strange sense of hope and wonder.
If I consented to massage Mark's butt for him, I reasoned to myself, obviously a very personal and private area, perhaps his sneers and antagonistic behavior would stop. It was obvious he thought I was a queer. However, from here on out, there wasn't much he could do or say about his suspicions if he allowed me (a supposed dirty queer) to actually touch his butt.
Mark's entire buttock area was now revealed, and so I began to massage the cheeks of his buttocks evenly, stroking the sides of his hips and carefully avoiding the cleavage between the creamy, intoxicating mounds of flesh and the dark valley lower down where, try as I might, I couldn't catch a glimpse of his tight scrotum.
I continued to massage for several long minutes, and Mark sighed heavily a few times and seemed to grow tired. My arms by now were aching heavily, and I was ready for a break.
"Had enough?" I finally gathered up enough courage to say.
Mark nodded yes, and I got up, my legs nearly cramping with the strain and made my way back over to the couch, where I stretched out as by now I was truly exhausted. Mark quickly pulled his briefs back up without a backwards glance and we continued to watch TV for awhile without saying a word to each other.
About another two hours passed, and I curled up and gradually fell asleep on the couch. We didn't have to work on the following day, and as my parents were gone, there was no one around demanding we go to bed. We had cable TV and I would camp out in front of the TV all night on the couch when my parents weren't around (which was rather often) and doze for an hour or so and then watch something, whatever came on that interested me.
At one point, I became aware that Mark had joined me on the couch, on the end near my feet. I pulled my legs up even further to make more room for him and dozed off again.
I awoke out of a sound sleep and found that all the lights and the TV were off. What had woken me up was that Mark had maneuvered himself on the couch in such a way that my feet were positioned at his lap, and he was making slow grinding motions with his hips. I could easily feel his testicles slipping around in their drooping pouch, and the hardness of his erection.
Immediately, adrenalin flooded my blood, my heart pounded once again in my chest and my penis pushed painfully against the confines of my jeans.
Mark wanted me to...do something sexual...with him! I was enthralled by the filthy dirtiness of what he was doing. What would all those girls have thought! What would my parents have thought about Mark being a queer? It was shameful, shocking, embarrassing, yet unbearably exciting at the same time. Mark must really like me after all! In spite of my shock, I was filled with joyous gratitude too.
I turned face up, and slowly Mark crept up over my body until his crotch was above my face. I could smell his maleness, and the distinct odor of seminal fluid which had already stained the front of his underwear as he straddled my chest and lowered his crotch ever closer to my face.
Soon, the blunt glans of his penis brushed against my cheek, then pushed insistently, separated from my skin only by the thin cotton material of his briefs. Mark pushed back and forth, assessing my willingness.
Mark stood up, and slipped off his underwear, then resumed his prior position again, once again rubbing his penis back and forth across my checks, bumping into my nose. Then, slowly, he moved lower, and the head of his organ was brushing my lips, pushing between my lips, easing back out, then pushing, ever more insistently, inside, 'til I opened my mouth slightly and parted my teeth and then the entire length of his organ quickly slid into my mouth. His pubic hair tickled my nose unpleasantly, and I suddenly felt claustrophobic being under his much larger body with his thing inside my mouth which limited my ability to breath.
I was shocked that I had allowed Mark to do this, and I wasn't prepared. This had gone too far! I pulled my head backwards and towards the left, but Mark was having none of that. His large hands sprang out of the darkness and suddenly clamped fiercely on either side of my head. He held my head firmly and thrust back into my mouth and gasped as he did so. Then, with no further movements or any type of warning, his penis jerked against the roof of my mouth and he ejaculated. Stream after stream of an absolutely sickening thick fluid flooded into my mouth, down the back of my throat, some even making its way up into my nasal cavities. The semen was revolting, terrifying, nauseating and permeated all my senses. I choked and swallowed as much as I could to get it out of my mouth and throat so I could breath. Mark still held my head fiercely, refusing me any movement.
Presently, the spasms that wracked Mark's body passed, and he eased out of my mouth and released my head. He stood, picked up his underwear and strode off to his bedroom without a word.
It suddenly dawned on me that Mark had used me to have an orgasm, and that's all he had been after. He didn't like me any more than he had before, and probably despised me for being the dirty cocksucker that he had turned me into.
I was stunned, and I sank immediately into disheartened shock. Waves of guilt washed over me. I was dirty now, a filthy beast. I had let another male use me for unnatural purposes, like what the Bible had talked about. I would go to Hell. I was ashamed, I prayed hurriedly to God, asking for forgiveness I knew would never be granted for such a filthy act.
I forced myself to get up, and I scrubbed my teeth vigorously with toothpaste, gargled to clear my throat of the foul odor and the slime of semen, and I took another shower, as hot as I could stand, to wash away the scent of Mark's body.
And I prayed, and prayed, knowing all the while it was in vain.
The next day, Mark acted as if nothing had changed at all. He still treated me with the contemptuous disregard that had always marked his behavior towards me. I was sad, withdrawn and quiet but no one noticed my mental state.
Two weekends later, my parents left town again for an evening.
Mark presented himself at my bed, in the middle of the night, rubbing his erection against my face.
"Come on, suck it. I'll suck you." Mark pleaded quietly.
His hand briefly groped my genitals, sparking hope within me once again and my penis stiffened mightily at his touch.
Once again, I opened my mouth. Three, maybe four shallow thrusts later, Mark ejaculated again. This time, I was more prepared and I swallowed the copious amount of ejaculate as quickly as I could.
Mark withdrew and left my bedroom, without fulfilling his promise of reciprocation.
I masturbated furiously out of frustration, wiped up the mess with a sock that I kept just for such purposes, and then went to the bathroom to again scrub myself clean of any trace of the event. I went back to bed and drifted off to sleep after resolving to myself that I wouldn't allow myself to be used by Mark ever again.
The last encounter occurred right before Mark was to fly back home to start school in the fall. I was awake for some reason when he stealthily crept into my bedroom. I suppose I knew that he would try again. My parents were at home this time. Mark took care to be extra quiet.
I turned my head when he approached my bed and wouldn't look at him.
Mark tried to turn my head towards his crotch, but I resisted with all my strength. He rubbed his erect penis against my arm, against my hair; to no avail. I was not going to service him this time. His hand groped my penis again, and although my penis had traitorously hardened, I still kept my head turned away. Mark made a few half-hearted stroking motions, but soon stopped as I failed to respond.
Mark then stretched his nude body over mine, and pulled the sheet down so that his penis was pushing against my bare stomach. He made several thrusting movements, then suddenly stopped, making a stifled gasping noise. His semen spurted fitfully onto my stomach, pooling and then running off down my side. The semen soon felt cold and slimy, and I felt rank disgust for him in every cell of my body, and my erection wilted at once.
Mark got up, and slipped out the door and that was the last time he attempted to touch me.
A couple days later, Mark left for Tennessee. My parents took him the airport, having bought him the ticket to fly him home. On the way to the airport, Mark informed my parents that I had made several sexual advances to him and he was convinced I was a homosexual.
My parents came home very upset after the trip to the airport. My mother would not look at me. My father looked ashamed and angry, and looked at me and sneered, but said nothing. Not then.
Over the next two month period, my father gradually became convinced that I was not worthy to be his son, and eventually an afternoon came when I had driven one of his cars and foolishly allowed it to run out of gas. He pulled up in another car with my mother and I instinctually stayed away from him because he looked angry enough to kill me. He took a gas can and began to put gas into the tank.
My mother approached me, and looking at the ground, said "Your father says you have to leave. You can't live with us anymore."
I said okay.
I had a job working at a Dairy Queen at the time, and I immediately went out looking for an apartment. However, I soon found that I simply could not make ends meet on a minimum wage job, and I had dropped out of school. I called my grandmother, begging for a loan to buy food. My grandmother very kindly offered to fly me to Oklahoma to live with her, and so I managed to get by long enough for her to send me the plane ticket and then I flew to Oklahoma and lived with her and finished school and got on with life.
Mark wrote to me several years later. A short note, which was inside of a wedding invitation. He simply wrote he knew what he had done was wrong. He asked for my forgiveness. I never wrote back, which I regret now.
I matured into a reasonably handsome young man, and even now, am considered good looking. I've never had a long-term relationship with another man, nothing that lasted more than a few months anyway. I doubt I ever will. I don't trust people.
Mark was married only for a short time; his marriage ended in divorce after only two years. About two years later, I was informed that Mark was gay, and was HIV+. He subsequently died in the early 1990s of AIDS. Sadly, his sister Barbara, was killed in a car accident a few years prior to his death.
And so, here I am, gay. Did Mark cause me to become gay? Who knows.
My dream man, my fantasy man, will always be a man that resembles Mark. I've never found such a man, at least not one who took an interest in me. I doubt I ever will.
Ciao.