Jeff - First Sex
Jeff
Week 1
I started having sex at an early age. Although there were several boys in the neighborhood that I “played” with (sometimes in a group), Rob was my main sex partner…and sex with him was great. It was just sex…no strings, no kissing, no love involved. When we got together, we just had sex. But when I realized that sex with guys wasn’t just a phase and that gay was the thing that was different about me, my view of sex changed.
In my mind, sex would no longer be just a physical activity, it needed to be an expression of love. I created rules and parameters for sex. I had to be selective. I needed to feel something for my sex partners…I couldn’t just have sex for the sake of having sex anymore. I had to date someone before sex was possible. I needed romance and atmosphere. No one night stands. No sex clubs. Lots of rules. So, sex didn’t happen often.
Since I have an unapproachable quality, an arrogance, I wasn’t very successful at dating. But I stuck to my rules…and spent most of my early twenties in a sexual fantasyland more than anything else. If there was an exception to my rules, it was usually because alcohol was involved.
Jeff
Week 2
On those days when we found ourselves alone together, I always felt an electricity in the air. My energy became charged and rushed around my body. My focus would quickly move to my cock, which was already hard beneath my pants, straining the fabric. We both knew what was about to happen but we took our time, savoring the nervousness that we felt, listening to each others trembling voices. Our dance was exhilarating but at the same time exasperating. Since it was a game that always ended the same, clothes flying off, bodies pressed together, erections strong and imposing, I quickly grew impatient. I wanted to smell him and feel his cock in my mouth. And I needed to feel his mouth on my cock.
Sex with Rob was like a tug-of-war. I really wanted to do it because it felt so good and was so exciting. But I was also scared of it because what we were doing seemed so taboo and wrong. I was always afraid of getting caught which strangely made what we were doing even more titillating. If we had a whole afternoon, our sex would last and last, getting right to that edge and stopping, over and over again. Finally, the afternoon would end with both of us coming, one after the other…but rarely at the same time because we both wanted to watch and feel the other as he shot. The intensity was amazing. Sometimes, as I ejaculated, I felt like the head of my cock was exploding. It was like my other senses were put on hold, all other external input paused. If our time was limited, we did it quickly, taking turns sucking each other off. I can still feel his cum hitting the back of my throat or my cock pulsing as I ejaculated into his mouth.
Afterwards, we would get dressed quickly and go our separate ways. I hated myself and would always say that I should stop, would stop, that this had been the last time. It was a very confusing time. For a day or so after sex with Rob, I continued to beat myself up, felt like I was bad, wondered if I might be gay. But then I rationalized that I was just like every other kid who just wanted to get off, that I wasn’t hurting anyone and I wasn’t gay. Right…sex with Rob was hot, and it shaped my sexuality.
Rob blowing me on the front porch, swallowing.
Another day behind the shed, Mom inside cooking dinner.
Week 1
I started having sex at an early age. Although there were several boys in the neighborhood that I “played” with (sometimes in a group), Rob was my main sex partner…and sex with him was great. It was just sex…no strings, no kissing, no love involved. When we got together, we just had sex. But when I realized that sex with guys wasn’t just a phase and that gay was the thing that was different about me, my view of sex changed.
In my mind, sex would no longer be just a physical activity, it needed to be an expression of love. I created rules and parameters for sex. I had to be selective. I needed to feel something for my sex partners…I couldn’t just have sex for the sake of having sex anymore. I had to date someone before sex was possible. I needed romance and atmosphere. No one night stands. No sex clubs. Lots of rules. So, sex didn’t happen often.
Since I have an unapproachable quality, an arrogance, I wasn’t very successful at dating. But I stuck to my rules…and spent most of my early twenties in a sexual fantasyland more than anything else. If there was an exception to my rules, it was usually because alcohol was involved.
Jeff
Week 2
On those days when we found ourselves alone together, I always felt an electricity in the air. My energy became charged and rushed around my body. My focus would quickly move to my cock, which was already hard beneath my pants, straining the fabric. We both knew what was about to happen but we took our time, savoring the nervousness that we felt, listening to each others trembling voices. Our dance was exhilarating but at the same time exasperating. Since it was a game that always ended the same, clothes flying off, bodies pressed together, erections strong and imposing, I quickly grew impatient. I wanted to smell him and feel his cock in my mouth. And I needed to feel his mouth on my cock.
Sex with Rob was like a tug-of-war. I really wanted to do it because it felt so good and was so exciting. But I was also scared of it because what we were doing seemed so taboo and wrong. I was always afraid of getting caught which strangely made what we were doing even more titillating. If we had a whole afternoon, our sex would last and last, getting right to that edge and stopping, over and over again. Finally, the afternoon would end with both of us coming, one after the other…but rarely at the same time because we both wanted to watch and feel the other as he shot. The intensity was amazing. Sometimes, as I ejaculated, I felt like the head of my cock was exploding. It was like my other senses were put on hold, all other external input paused. If our time was limited, we did it quickly, taking turns sucking each other off. I can still feel his cum hitting the back of my throat or my cock pulsing as I ejaculated into his mouth.
Afterwards, we would get dressed quickly and go our separate ways. I hated myself and would always say that I should stop, would stop, that this had been the last time. It was a very confusing time. For a day or so after sex with Rob, I continued to beat myself up, felt like I was bad, wondered if I might be gay. But then I rationalized that I was just like every other kid who just wanted to get off, that I wasn’t hurting anyone and I wasn’t gay. Right…sex with Rob was hot, and it shaped my sexuality.
Rob blowing me on the front porch, swallowing.
Another day behind the shed, Mom inside cooking dinner.
posted by LifeWriter at 11:05 PM
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