It did all start again. Frank was spooning me and I
wanted, no I needed sex. He was not going to fuck me
though, no way. I turned so that we were face to
face. A few thrusts of cock against cock and it was
all over both of us. When I went to get out of bed,
Frank grabbed my cock. "Not so fast, we're just
getting going." I pushed his hand away, grabbed my
towel and was off to the showers. For the next few
days, I got "funny" looks from his room mate and from
a few guys in the theater group in which we were both
active. Frank had talked, I was sure. But, he was a
star; I was only crew.
Now the end of my senior year, the last cast party was
attended by most of The Theater Arts Department. One
instructor, Brad, was just a few years older than I,
but miles ahead in experience. We had had a student -
teacher relationship only. Always considerate and
polite to me before, he now was on my tail all that
evening and I was flattered and anxious. He was, of
course, handsome and talented. By the end of the
evening, alcohol, relaxation and need led me to his
bedroom. The kissing started. Foreplay was prolonged
and I was in the hands of an expert. Before I knew
it, we were in a sixty-nine position and I, on the
bottom, had a cock in my mouth. The psychologist had
lied to me. I was gay, I had to be. How else could I
be doing this again?
It had happened with Al and now again with Brad. I
could not stop. I paid attention to what Brad was
doing to me and returned in kind. My tongue circled,
licked, darted, probed. My lips circled, tightened,
relaxed moved slowly and then quickly; my mouth
mirrored what I felt being done to me. He was not
large in body or prick; but was exquisitely sculpted.
Today he would be buff, cut and ripped, I guess. He
pulled my hips up so that I was almost bent in two.
His mouth took in one egg and then the other and he
moved them gently with his hands and lips. His tongue
then worked its way down the very short distance to my
hole. I tried to let my legs down so that he did not
have access but he was on top of me, his knees on
either side of my shoulders and he pressed down on my
arms with his strong legs. He stopped long enough to
order me, "Be still!" His arms were placed such that
they came up and around my upper thighs and his hands
held my ass close to his face. The curled tongue
darted in and around my hole. It traveled up and down
my crack and then his teeth nibbled and pulled on my
ass hairs and the soft flesh on either side. I was
losing all self-control. Soon I felt pressure from a
finger as he moved his hands closer, a finger was at
"I can't, I can't! Please. No." Anxious memories,
fear, desire not to submit flew through my mind. I was
almost crying. Unlike Vince, he did listen and let me
down easily; I turned and hid my face.
"What Happened to you?" he asked quietly, one hand
gently rubbing my back. I told him about Vince; about
what he had done and what I had done. Brad turned me
to him. Soft touches by hand and tongue relieved any
tension and the love making began again; it was less
urgent, somehow softer and sweeter. We spent most of
the next few days in each other's company. There was
a bond being established. I wanted him, I wanted him
in every way possible, I thought. Close to the end of
the week, Brad sat opposite me, not touching, looking
most serious. "We need to talk. I want you to take
the teaching assistanceship that Paul offered you.
It's still open. I want you to stay here, with me." I
was speechless. My face indicated questions. "We
work on the same faculty committee, he told me that
you turned it down. Why?"
I explained some things about my past, my family, my
feeling of obligation, desire for home and family and
what I wanted for a future. "I can only give you
love," he said simply. My mind was on overload.
"Yes, Yes!" would have been the easiest answer. And
why I did not say those words, I do not know, and even
today, I wish I had said yes. I wanted to then; but I
stood, turned and walked out the door. I did not look
back; I never went back.
My parents and Ellen attended graduation and Ellen
came home with us. She had a job in the city and we
spent much of that summer making plans and loving. I
pushed her on the marriage word - "yes", but she did
not say it. In the fall, she returned to campus and I
stayed home, working and seeing her every third or
fourth weekend. I also began seeing other women; I
was on a quest to prove myself. Early in the fall, I
joined a social group for young adults by area
churches. In it were some of the old neighborhood
group. We were all "straight" now. I avoided the
quarries and succeeded in driving out most all
memories of Brad. On the few times I had seen Brad
when back on campus, his greetings were cold. I
understood. Before Christmas, I asked Ellen again.
This time she said "No." "When we make love,
sometimes you're not there and sometimes I think you
see someone else. I love you, you love me, but you're
not in love with me, are you?" I tried to lie. She
knew, damn it, she knew!
I also had begun seeing Tammy that fall. She was
funny, articulate, and a female jock. She was an
athlete on the field and in the bedroom. By spring,
not much had changed. Tammy was my new girlfriend at
home and one of Ellen's friends had decided I was too
good to let go. I continued trips back to campus.
Sometimes I fucked and sometimes I did not; I thought
I was straight, though. Early the next summer, a year
after graduation, I returned one afternoon to the
quarries. I had grown a little taller and because of
some exercise, I had developed more of a man's body.
An initial glance, though, would cause anyone to think
I was still sixteen. I used that as an attraction and
the habit of man-sex took on a new hold. One time,
especially, is still a vivid memory.
There was an "older" man that I had seen on several
occasions. He had to be forty, I thought. He was
tall and had a head full of silver gray curly hair. I
think his eyes were blue. Obviously a laborer of some
sort, his large body was hard, well muscled all over.
I had heard that he was only a taker and not a giver
so I had no real interest. I had never seen him
completely naked. It must have been close to seven
o'clock and the area was just about deserted. I
thought I would swim one last time so went to a
somewhat secluded place that was free of trash and
where the access to the water was safe. He was there,
in the water. I went several yards to the left, took
off my clothes and went under the water. When I
surfaced, this beautiful man was only a few feet away.
He had to have moved; I had not swam in his direction.
I must have looked surprised. "I didn't mean to
scare you," he said, a dazzeling smile on his face. I
now had seen his man tool. Size had never before been
a special attraction to me, but this guy was big.
Even in the cold water, it had to be almost twice the
size of my now-shriveled boy cock. He was amused at
my obvious fascination. "Go ahead, touch it; I don't
mind." By then, I had regained my composure.
"I'm sure you don't. You can touch mine, too," I said
trying to sound light-hearted and not terribly
interested. That is just what he did. His hand
reached out and found me; he began stroking and soon I
was doing the same to him. Then, we were in each
other's arms with hands wandering and mouths meeting.
He took my hand and led me up a steep path to a smooth
rock platform where we would be almost completely out
of site from any who might wander down to the water.
He began to make love to me with his hands and mouth
and my hands sought his pole. It had to have been a
full nine inches long and almost as thick as the old
Coke bottles were. To this day, I have never seen
anything as beautiful. The magic of it drew my mouth
down and I found it quickly between my lips and on my
tongue. His challenge in taking me in was no where
near as great. How I managed, I do not know; but most
of it did fit in my mouth and down my throat. This
was raw sex. We wre each on our sides in the magic
number position, we each fucked the face below and
sucked the cock that was opposite. The strokes were
ever increasing in speed and depth. At almost the same
instant, climax came quickly for both of us. What I
had heard about him was not true; he did do it. In a
few short minutes, he began to make overtures to my
ass. Somehow, we were no longer facing each other; my
back was against his huge, hairy chest and his now
hard cock was between my legs and pumping against my
ball sack. Then I knew I had to leave, and in a
hurry. Taking his hands from my chest, and pulling
away from him, I got up on my knees and then stood. I
smiled and said, "Thanks, but no thanks." I dressed
quickly and on the path down, met my first cousin who
was a few years older than I. He was almost a twin.
He asked me what I was doing there with a stupid grin
on his face. "If you walk up that path, you'll find
out." and I kept right on going. Now I knew that
"older" could be good, very good and that I would have
to be more careful about "letting myself go."
Through work, I had also made a whole new set of
hetero-sexual friends; they were something else. Sex
was open and constant if you wished. It was to one of
the men that I was especially drawn. Rick had had a
brief stint as a professional football player so no
description of the body is necessary, He was smart
and funny; and very successful in business. His home
was party central. One morning I woke up to find
myself stretched across the foot of his bed; his wife
was out of, or out on the town. I wondered if I had
tried anything in the alcoholic haze I had enjoyed the
night before. I asked. A loud laugh was followed by
"NO, not with me! I sent Jan home in a taxi after I
got her dressed; there wasn't room for three in this
"I wanted to." was my quiet response. Rick looked at
me very seriously. "I want to," and I looked away.
"I don't do that and besides you're much to valuable
as a friend," he said and left the bed abruptly. My
disappointment must have showed. On his way to the
shower, he ran his hand through my hair, "It would not
have surprised the hell out of me if I had let you,
though." I should have taken a lesson then that sex
and friendship rarely mix. The last time I saw Rick
and his wife was just before the birth of my third
In the fall, fellowship started up and there was a new
player. The older minister had retired at one of the
sponsor churches and an eager, enthusiastic, and
charismatic man of thirty-seven had taken his place.
He face was not handsome, not at all, and his body had
nothing especially appealing to it. I had assumed
leadership and we began having very casual
conversations. I could say pretty much anything and
Carl would smile, laugh, and he was as equally skilled
in double meaning as I. We bantered back and forth
and I teased him about being a "man of the cloth." We
had had more than one "meeting of the minds" on
program, membership and a host of other issues. I
found myself looking forward to Sunday nights. One
afternoon in late November, he called and asked if I
would meet him at his home office at four-thirty. I
remember the time; we were to be alone as his family
was out of town. His office was comfortable; there
were pictures of his wife and three children; prints,
and lots of books. Conversation at first was general.
He paused and then he asked "What's bothering you?
There's something bothering you." I chuckled and said
not especially and asked if I looked like there was.
Carl said that I was often sharp with him and wanted
to know if he had offended me. I had no idea what he
was talking about. I must have been defensive then,
and denied what he was saying. He persisted; he told
me that that I needed counciling and before I knew it,
I was telling him my life's story. As I think back,
he was very good at what he was did. When I got to
sexual matters, I stood and began walking around his
office, touching things. I have no idea how long I
went on and at some point, tears welled up in my eyes
and must have started running down my cheeks. I was
not crying as I remember. Then it happened. Carl
stood, came over and hugged me; his lips spoke softly
against my ear. "I know. I knew it. It doesn't have
to be this way, it doesn't have to hurt so. I'm just
like you." He kissed me. I felt his arms surround
me, my knees weakened, and my head lay on his chest.
God help me, I was in love. I was in love with an
older married man, with a minister.
His hands rubbed my back, and then they were on my ass
cheeks pulling me hard against him. I do not remember
what I said as I came back to reality; I know it was
something funny because we both were laughing. He
kissed me again on the mouth. "I think you had better
go, I have a dinner meeting." He walked me to the
door, turned me around, caressed my now hard cock,
kissed my face and said, "I'll see you here Friday at
the same time." All I could do was nod.
On Friday, he told me that what he had done was wrong,
very wrong. The conversation seemed to be an
admission of guilt, of attraction to me physically and
mentally, and a denial of my indication that I wanted
more. I was careful about what I said; I avoided
using dirty words. I told him what I wanted to do
with him and to him. The internal struggle in him was
obvious; I stood, walked around behind his chair and
licked the back of his neck. I learned quickly that
this was an important button. He leaned back into me
and a huge sigh escaped him. My hands toyed with his
tie, his chest and then reaching down, I boldly
grabbed his cock and began to pull on it. I could hear
his wife. The office was connected to the house
through a breezeway. "Stop it!" he whispered
urgently. "Get out of here." "Let me alone."
"You started this. Did you think I was some toy?" I
asked and continued to manipulate his cock. The
pre-cum oozing from him made a dark circle on his
slacks. He tried to push me away, but I had the
advantage and I kept at it. "Are we going to do
this?" I asked quietly. There was only a slight nod.
"Can you meet me at the church office on Monday?" He
struggled with the words. I had a promise, I thought.
"Yes." and I let him go. We sat for several more
minutes, just chatting. His wife knocked, and then
opened the door. Saying that there was plenty for
dinner, she asked me to join them. I accepted. Being
a guest, I was asked to say grace, "Thank you Lord for
new friends and for this food. Amen." My mind was on
bigger things; it raced ahead to the next Monday.
On Monday, there was one committee or another meeting.
After that, and for a few weeks, it seemed so every
time we met and there was no chance. There were a
quick caress or stolen kisses. He had planned well;
one thing I do not do, even now, is quit. For the next
five weeks, I was besotted. I wanted him and I did
not want him. I had started to attend "his church"
and had become friendly with his wife. I got to know
and enjoy his children and I still wanted to go to bed
A stroke of fate opened that possibility. I was to
house sit for a friend while they were away from the
day after Christmas until April first. I pleaded,
teased, and finally Carl agreed to visit me two days
after Christmas. It was to be at one o'clock. That
morning, I had the barber give me a crew cut; I took
the train into the city and bought a "virgin" outfit.
It was a thick, white terry cloth robe with hood. I
had told Carl the door would be open and that he
should just walk in. I had showered before but waited
till I saw his car and then quickly jumped back in. I
greeted him wrapped in the robe, with "dew drops" on
my body. He noticed and with a huge smile on his face
and a cock growing immediately hard down his pants
leg, he asked, "Did you get that just for me?" All I
did was nod; I had never been so nervous. Without
asking the direction, he took my hand and led me to
the bedroom where he slowly took the robe off of me.
His hands caressed every part of me, he kissed me
again and again. My body ached for him. How long it
took or how we got onto the bed I do not remember.
Carl had lots of body hair and I began twisting and
turning it. My mouth began to explore all on its own.
His cock was about 7.5 " long, cut and thick, almost
round, not oval. It had what looked like liver spots
and I asked about them. "Birth marks" he answered and
I kissed them, each one. He laid there and let me
explore every part of him and I was happy. "You have
marvelous hands." he said softly as I stroked and
traced, patted and caressed. Sometimes I used my
tongue. After some time had passed, he began doing
the same things to me. I was eager for more. At one
point, he raised my legs up and began looking at my
ass; teasing my boy cunt with his fingers; I do
remember this. I do not remember how the rest of the
transition happened; I was on my belly and his knees
were between my legs; I had opened them for him. He
was kissing my back and running his tongue up and down
my spine and I wanted him to do it. I wanted him to
fuck me. I wanted to give him everything I could, I
wanted to give him me. He wet himself with something
and then pressed into me. It did not hurt. It was a
feeling of being full, no more or no less. He was
gentle and there was no pain. It also was not the
fantastic feeling that so many have written about. My
satisfaction was in making him happy. It did not take
Carl long, he said no words. I was keenly aware of his
breathing and knew as the rhythm increased, that he
was close. I turned my head back to see him and he
bent down and kissed me deeply. I lay there quietly
letting him do whatever he wanted to do. It was
exquisite, there was joy in my heart; this man was
making love to me, to me. One long moan came from deep
within Carl, he quickly buried himself hard in me and
held himself so very close against my body. I could
feel spasms at my ring, I could feel his weight fully
upon me, and his mouth was against my ear, but I could
not understand what he said. After a moment or two, he
moved again and again inside of me, with gentleness
his hands held me against him and his lips were on my
ear, tugging and pulling and then our lips were
together. He then lifted himself off of me and I lay
again on my back. "Did you cum?" he asked half in
disappointment and half in surprise, feeling my still
rigid cock. I shook my head and he quickly lay across
my body. His side pinned my belly down and he faced
my tool; both of his hands were free; the torture
began. My prick was burning hot. I tried to look.
Was it his hands or his tongue. "Lie still and let
me!" he commanded and I did what I was told. Soon I
could not lie still. My entire body trembled and the
pressure and the sensations increased to the point
that I almost passed out.
I cried out, "Stop, stop!" I could not cum. He
pulled off of me quickly, took me by my hand and led
me to the bathroom sink. There with a soapy hand, he
brought me off using his hands. I shot ropes of cum,
my body sagged back against his; I could not stand on
my own. I turned and buried my head between his neck
and his shoulder. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
I think I was crying. Carl led me back to the bed.
"Don't, Don't cry. It's just nerves. I know you
wanted to. Wait till next time; it will be wonderful
then for both of us." He kissed me, and he did it
with love. I do not remember hearing the words; but
there was love. We lay there quietly just enjoying
the moment. All too soon, he had to go. I did not
mind. Carl had said, "Wait till next time."