First Time

I leaned against the wall. I leaned because if I had not I would have fallen. My head was spinning a bit and I felt for all the world like I was going to just go to sleep right where I stood. Needless to say, I had been drinking. I had been drinking a lot. I had no idea how much I had drank, or what I had been drinking. People just kept handing me glasses and I kept drinking what was in them. I looked down the hall toward my bedroom door. It was just there, no more than 10 feet away. But it might as well have been 10 miles. No way I was going to make it to that door. So I just stood there and closed my eyes.

It had been quite a party. Mark had wanted to have a party to celebrate the new apartment. I had been living with Mark for about 6 months. I had moved in with him right after he had tried to kill himself. He had scared the hell out of me and the thought of losing him had sent me into a panic state. So I had parked myself on his doorstep once he had gotten out of the hospital and declared I was moving in and there was not a damned thing he could do about it. Mark and I had been through hell together more than once. He had been there for me when I thought my world had ended and when I had nearly ended it myself. And I was going to be there for him—to make sure his did not.

We had only just moved from his old apartment, which was small even for one person, into this apartment. And what do you do when you move into a new apartment? You have a party! Mark was really a social animal. He loved to party. He’d always been invited to every party anyone had during high school. He had more friends than he had family—and that was saying a lot! And this apartment was big enough to actually have more than one or two friends over at a time! So he made a big event out of it. Invited all of our closest friends (they were really his friends) and made sure to invite some girls he knew liked me. He hadn’t given up on getting me back into “the world” as he called it. I hadn’t really dated or anything for a long time. And I usually avoided people in general—and especially girls. Hadn’t really gotten over the thing with Linda, which made me tend to avoid girls if possible. And then the thing toward the end of the last school year still messed with my head and made be tend to avoid everyone as much as possible. But that was getting a little better. Mark’s suicide attempt had changed my focus a bit. I made a point of trying to do things with him, of trying to do things that would make him happy. And I know that it made him unhappy when I was hiding in a corner somewhere. So, despite my fairly shitty mood, really tried to make the best of Mark’s party.

There were a lot of people there. Mark had a couple of his “friends” there. By “friends” I mean gay friends. He really didn’t know many guys like that. I mean, rural New York is not exactly a hotbed of homosexuality. It had really shocked me when Mark had told me he was gay. Shocked me not because it was such a horrible thing—but because I had not known. I had known him since I was 13, but I had not known. And when he just stood up and announced it to everyone last year, after the incident, I had been more shocked than anyone. And when he had finally regained consciousness in the hospital, after wrapping his car around a tree going about 90 mph, and had told me that he had tried to kill himself because he couldn’t stand being such a disappointment to his family and to his friends, and that he loved me—in that way… It had been a lot to deal with. I had just walked away from him after he told me that last part. I had really needed to think. But Mark was my best friend. And I loved him like a brother. No way I was running out on him. So we had talked about it and agreed that we would just stay best friends forever and not mess that up with anything else. And I just got used to him having “boyfriends” instead of girlfriends. No big deal. As long as they didn’t hurt him, I didn’t give a shit.

So I just watched across the room as one guy he invited, David, hit on Mark all night. Mark was enjoying it, too. No doubt they would end up in bed together before the night was over.

Actually, I ended up spending a great deal of time talking with one of Mark’s other “friends,” Paul. He was quite a bit older than Mark and I knew they had been together more than once. He was really nice, though, easy to talk to, even for me. And that was saying something, because I really didn’t know him and I always had a hard time talking to people I didn’t know. But he was cool. We talked about a lot of things, writing mostly. It turned out he actually had some things published. Short stories in magazines, but to me that made him very cool! He handed me a few drinks throughout the night. I noticed that he kept brushing my hand as he handed them to me, but I really didn’t make anything out of it. I’ll admit I was getting very relaxed by all the drinking and was not really noticing much—and what I did notice, I really didn’t interpret. We talked a while, then I somehow ended up on the couch with one of the girls there.

She was a very pretty girl, and I had actually spoken to her a few times without feeling like I was going to have to run to the bathroom and puke. That was a good sign! Most likely, it was a sign of how very drunk I was! I ended up kissing her and making out a bit on the couch. I caught Mark’s eye over her shoulder and noticed him smile. He smiled as if he were relieved that I was having a good time—and very glad that I was finally making out with a girl. I don’t know, maybe it was that look in his eyes, but suddenly I really felt like I needed to get out of there, to lie down. I didn’t feel sick or anything, I just knew I needed to lie down. I told her that and she offered to lie down with me. She said this while trying to stick her tongue down my throat, which was a pretty impressive thing to do! I don’t remember what I said to her. But a few moments later, I was leaning against the wall in the hallway just down from my bedroom door, alone.

“Are you ok?” The voice was close, very close. I started and nearly fell. He chuckled softly as he grabbed my arm to steady me. “I saw you holding up that wall and it looked like you might be going to sleep right there!”

I opened my eyes. It was Paul, but I already knew that from his voice. “No, I just stopped to rest my head for a minute.” My words sounded a little drunk, even to me.

“I think you better rest your head on your bed.” He laughed outright as he put his arm around my shoulder and began leading me down the hall to my room. My feet were unsteady, and I was glad of his support.

He shut the door behind us, which I noticed at the time, but didn’t make anything of. He helped me to my bed and I just fell back on it. My head was spinning a bit now. I wasn’t precisely dizzy, but things were shifting around a bit. He sat down on the bed beside me. He was sitting close, so close that I could feel the heat from his leg where it brushed against mine. I tried to sit up. “No, don’t” he said softly, placing one hand on my chest. I couldn’t sit up. It wasn’t like he pushed on me and held me down. He just placed his hand lightly on my chest. But the sheer surprise of the action caught me off guard and held me firmly in place. He started rubbing my chest. I could feel the heat from his hands right through my shirt.

“Do you always wear silk shirts?” The words were very close to my ear. But I didn’t open my eyes. The feeling of his hand caressing my chest felt so relaxing…

“No.” I heard myself answer. I was wearing my black silk “dress up” shirt. I had actually spent a bit of time picking something to wear. I wanted to at least look like I wanted to be at the party. Mark’s party. “But it’s Mark’s party.” I said that simply, as though anyone hearing it would completely understand.

He chuckled softly. “I see.” And I had the distinct impression that he did see.

My eyes flew open, startled by the feeling of his warm hand on my bare skin. When had he unbuttoned my shirt? I tried to sit up again, but he smiled at me, a slightly tipped smile. I was transfixed by that smile and sighed as he continued to rub my chest.

I was startled once again by the feeling of my legs being lifted onto my bed. I tried to sit up again, but his arm across my chest stopped me. Again, it wasn’t like he was pressing down on me, holding me down. But his arm was warm against my skin and I really didn’t want to move it. “Just lie still and relax.” The words were whispered against my ear, and were accompanied by the feeling his body pressing warmly against mine. I opened my eyes and realized that somehow he had removed my clothes—and his as well!

His face was inches from mine. He was smiling at me, a gentle smile. His eyes were brown. Very brown. The dark brown of a chestnut. They were looking into mine very intently. I noticed he had fine lines around his eyes, like he had been caught smiling too long while in the sun. And the rest of his skin was very tanned, which supported that thought.

“You really do have beautiful eyes, Lucas,” he said softly, tracing around my eyes with one finger. His touch was very light, yet it felt like electricity was passing through his finger into my skin. He brushed his finger over my eye lashes. “And such long eye lashes…”

He leaned down and pressed his lips to mine. It was a long, slow kiss. It felt tentative, his lips barely touching mine, brushing softly over my lips like the gentle caress of a butterfly’s wings. I felt his one hand caressing my chest still, while the fingers of his other hand played gently with my hair. I felt my body’s unexpected response to him—a ripple of heat that passed right through my entire body.

My lips parted slightly. He slipped his tongue in between my lips and into my mouth, sliding his tongue sensually along mine. I returned his kiss now, my lips brushing his, my tongue rubbing against his. I pulled him closer to me, my fingers tangling in his hair. I heard a soft moan of pleasure and I realized with surprise that it had come from my lips! As he felt my response to him, his kiss changed. His lips pressed harder against mine, tenderness turning to passion as he thrust his tongue hard against my tongue. It was as if he had been moving tentatively, testing to see what my response would be. Now that he had my response, he was sending a message. And that message was perfectly clear, even to me at that time. He would be gentle, tender, considerate—but he would be the one in control. I yielded to this demand instinctively. I felt my body press deeper into the comforter on the bed, felt myself drop my shoulder slightly, slipping my body slightly beneath his. Both my hands were in his hair now, my fingers getting slightly tangled in his dark brown curls. My breath was hot against his and I could feel his breathing quicken.

Then he pulled back. His lips were parted, his breath shortened. He stared down into my eyes. His eyes appeared slightly cloudy. His features appeared softer somehow, a little blurred. But that may have been my perception. My own vision felt blurry, though not from the drinking. No, it was passion that blurred my vision. And it surprised the hell out of me. I hadn’t had sex in a long time—hadn’t wanted to have sex in a long time, not with anyone. And I had never wanted to have sex with a man! But I wanted it with him! No question in my mind. I wanted this man completely. My body ached with desire for him. I felt hot—and not from the warmth of the room or from the heat from his body as it pressed against mine. I felt hot from the inside out. Desire, hot and insistent burned through my body, making me feel like I would spontaneously combust at any moment.

He tilted his head slightly to one side and smiled, a smile filled with wonder. “What girl taught you to kiss like that, boy?” He shook his head slightly, as if to emphasize the wonder in his eyes.

I felt myself smile in response, felt that smile turn into a grin. “What makes you think it isn’t just a natural instinct? And what makes you think it was a girl who taught me to kiss?” My words were slightly teasing, but mostly I just wanted to know the answer.

His smile deepened and I noticed his eyes crinkled when he smiled. It was a very attractive look. “Because your kiss is very, very sensual. And your lips respond, respond very sweetly, but they don’t initiate; your tongue invites, submits, but doesn’t seek. Yet it draws from me every ounce of passion a kiss can generate. Your kiss is like that of a very experienced woman. That would not be your instinct. No, some girl had to have spent some time teaching you subtleties.”

I stared at him in astonishment. The man was truly amazing! And obviously very experienced himself.

I could see the satisfaction in his smile. It was not the satisfaction of “I told you so!” but rather the satisfaction of “Ah, so I was right.” He ran a finger along my lips, just barely touching them. I was amazed anew at how very light and gentle his touch was. “So I am right, then?”

I nodded, thinking back to the time with Linda, when she had felt to me like an angel sent from heaven. After our first kiss, which she had responded to with humiliating laughter, she had literally spent hours teaching me the subtle art of kissing. That is the one thing I would always be truly grateful to her for. And she had been a very good teacher and I a very willing student.

I ran my finger over the fine lines and creases around his eyes. His eyes flickered for a moment, and I could almost read his thoughts. He was quite a bit older than I was. And infinitely more experienced. But as I looked into his eyes, I knew that that his age and experience was what I wanted—and also precisely what I needed.

He stared at me a long moment. Then shook his head slightly, as if clearing cobwebs from his thoughts. Then he leaned down and kissed my lips once more. My response to him, again, was instinctive and immediate. I pulled him closer to me, feeling the heat from his body where it touched mine. I wanted to run my hands over his body, touch his skin, feel his softness, feel his hardness… but I was too insecure, too uncertain. I had never been in this situation before. I wasn’t sure what he expected from me, what he would want from me… So I just responded to him, let my body react. “Respond but not initiate”—just like my kiss.

He kissed my lips gently, with a passion that was clearly being held back. Then he traced a line with his tongue from my lips down to my neck, just where it met my shoulder. He lingered there, sucking softly, his teeth brushing gently against my skin. He rubbed his body against mine, just slightly. It was more of a pressing against, than a rubbing against, really. But I could feel his arousal, hard and hot against my hip. I heard a groan of pleasure from his lips as he pressed against me and it held a note of urgency. But still, there was no hurry in his touch, no rush in his kiss.

As his lips moved down from my neck to my chest, his hand moved from my chest to my stomach and down to my cock. I jumped as his fingers touched me there. He raised up and smiled down at me, a very deep, genuinely amused smile. “Not expecting that, sweetheart?” I could feel my brows come together at his use of “sweetheart” as an affectionate term. He ran a finger over the crease between my brows, raising one eyebrow at me. He chuckled softly and bent to kiss that same spot between my brows. “You are so completely adorable.” He whispered the words against my skin.

I gasped as his hand stroked my cock lightly. I was already hard—had been from the moment his lips had touched mine—but I felt myself swell even more at his touch. “Mmmm” the sound was almost a sigh as it left his lips. The sound from my own was definitely a sigh as I lay back, my eyes closing. His touch was amazing. I could feel the strength in his fingers, but at the same time, they were so very gentle.

I felt his lips once more on my chest, felt his tongue running along my skin. I shivered from the sensation, yet I was anything but cold. “Oh, man… that feels so good…” I breathed the words as I arched my back s lightly, pushing into his hand. His response was to bite me lightly, nipping the skin right below my belly button. Not so that it hurt, but just hard enough to make me jump a little. He smiled against my skin. I swear I could feel his lips smile. I felt myself smile in response. I thought to myself that I was very sure I had never smiled this much during sex before!

That smile was completely wiped from my face in the next second as I gasped and exclaimed “God Almighty!” I felt as though my entire body had just been plunged into fire. His tongue licked around the base of my swollen cock, and continued licking upwards, in a spiral motion all around me. His tongue felt warm, electric. Everywhere he licked burned and throbbed. He stopped just short of the top, pausing to let his hot breath caress me. I could feel his lips almost touching me, teasing me with their closeness. I tried to push my hips upward, push my throbbing erection toward his mouth. I wanted what he was teasing me with—wanted it so bad my whole body pulsed, vibrated with the desire for it, the need for it.

“Know what you want, do you, boy?” His words were soft, whispered so close to my skin that every syllable made me twitch with desire. My response was little more than a groan as I reached for his head, my fingers tangling convulsively in the soft tendrils of his hair. His response was to run his tongue slowly over the tip of my cock, and I mean slowly! Then he slipped me into his mouth, his lips pressing firmly against my skin, so that I would feel every millimeter of their progress from the tip on down. And as he took me further into his mouth, his tongue licked around me, in that same spiral pattern that had driven me so crazy before—only this time it was reversed, spiraling downward as he drew me deeper and deeper into the liquid heat of his mouth.

He sucked rhythmically on my cock, his tongue pressing hard against my shaft. As he sucked, he took my balls in his hand and rubbed them gently then firmly, squeezing them just enough to make me gasp a little. I moaned with pleasure, I couldn’t keep the sounds inside any longer. His mouth on me was the most incredible feeling I had ever experienced. Every stroke was pure electricity. It set my senses on edge. I felt myself raising my hips, thrusting against his rhythm. He took me deeply into his mouth, permitting the tip of me to tickle the back of his throat. And as I touched the back of his throat, he would swallow and I would feel him contracting around me. And every once in a while, he would make a “mmmm” sound and the vibrations from his throat would ripple through me.

My breath was short and hot as I lost myself in the feeling. My head was swimming, though definitely not from the drinking! As I leaned my head back, I could hear the blood rushing through my head. It felt like fireworks were going off behind my eyes. His rhythm was steady and I felt my breathing matching his rhythm, as did the pulsing behind my eyes. It was like my entire body was just synchronizing itself to him.

Then he stopped. I all but whimpered as he raised his head from me. I raised myself up on my elbows, my eyes reluctantly opening. I looked down at him, my brows knit, my eyes narrowed—and my vision so blurred by this point I could barely see! He looked up at me, a soft, hazy smile on his lips. “Do you want to come, babe?” As he spoke the words, he ran one finger lightly over the tip of my cock.

“Please!” I pleaded through my gasps. Every muscle in my body was contracting with tension and anticipation. I thought I saw a little flicker of triumph in his eyes, as though he had accomplished a goal. I noticed that, even through my blurred vision. But I didn’t care. If he wanted me to beg him, if that gave him pleasure, then I would beg! I wanted it so badly! “Please, Paul… Please!”