Learning from Randy

This is a true story of how I learned about a new facet of my sexuality.

It was almost the end of my senior year of high school. This was the mid-1980s, and shortly after my eighteenth birthday. I lived in a suburb of Tulsa, Oklahoma. I thought I was straight as an arrow, and, like most guys that age, blew a load in my hand several times a week (often more than once a day). I had enthusiastically played a few times with girls, but never went "all the way".

​Ahhh, good times.

​But I digress.

​I got in an argument one night with my mom and stepdad. I have long since forgotten the subject of the argument, but I remember feeling extremely pissed. Pissed enough that I did NOT want to be in that house for a while. I left, but I had no idea where I would go. I drove to one friend's house, but they weren't home. Another friend's prents weren't keen on me staying over a day or two, especially in the middle of the week. Then I went to Randy's house.

​I knew Randy because we were both involved in theater (he did stagecraft while I pretended to know how to act), and we often hung out together with other drama students in the school's designated student smoking area, affectionately dubbed "The Smoke Hole". Randy had graduated the previous year, but was still living at home and attending a local community college. He still hung around with his friends from the theater, so I saw him at parties and even some mornings before classes (his college classes were nearby, so he dropped by occasionally to have a smoke before school with his old friends - hurray for an open campus!).

​I hoped I would catch Randy at home. It was getting past ten on a week night and my options were very limited. I knew Randy had a hot girlfriend and the pair were frequently out on dates until well after midnight. If he wasn't home, the back seat of my car would have to do for the night. That would have sucked.

I rang the doorbell; thankfully, Randy answered it. He was happy to see me and invited me in. We went upstairs to a loft to hang out and watch MTV. I told him what was going on with my parents, and he told me I could stay as long as I needed to.

​After a bit, it was time to crash. Randy told me I could sleep in the room next to the loft, so I went in the room, Randy following behind me. It was a medium-sized room with a bed, a desk, bookshelves, and so on.

​I asked where the bathroom was. Randy showed me, then said he was going to start getting ready for bed while I was in the bathroom. I finished up, then returned to the bedroom. I was initially a little surprised to see Randy in the bed and under the covers.

​That's when I figured out that this was Randy's bedroom. I thought nothing of it, though; who was I to expect my own private room to sleep in? I was just happy to have a place to crash.

​I took off my shoes, grabbed a pillow off the bed, and started to lay down on the floor, still fully dressed. I mean, I didn't want Randy to think I was queer or something, so I wasn't planning to strip in front of him.

​Glancing my direction, Randy asked what I was doing.

​"Getting ready to sleep; what's it look like?", I replied. "Did you want me to crash on that couch in the loft?"

​Randy responded, "You're not sleeping on the floor; there's plenty of room in this bed. And it is much more comfortable than the floor or even the loft couch. Anyway, you're too tall for the couch."

​Randy was right about the couch: at 6'4", I was about a foot taller than the couch was long. I would have had to sleep in a very uncomfortable position if I took that option.

I asked him, "Where will you sleep?"

Randy grinned. ​"In the bed, dummy! This is a queen size bed. There is a lot of room for you to sleep on one side and me on the other."

​Under the circumstances, I nervously agreed with Randy; the bed was indeed my best option.

​I had already kicked off my shoes, so I sat on the edge of the bed and took off my socks (I can't sleep under the covers if I am wearing socks). I stood up, pulled the sheets and comforter back, and started to climb into the bed.

​Randy laughed. Teasingly, he asked, "Do you always go to bed fully dressed?"

​I sheepishly responded in the negative.

​"Well, you shouldn't do it here, either", he said.

​That made me a little uncomfortable. I was shy and hated my body - at 6'4" and 140#, I felt I was far too thin. But, he had a point - who the heck sleeps in a bed while fully clothed? Anyway, it was his house, so I stripped off my clothes and climbed into the bed wearing only my briefs.

We talked for a few minutes, just relaxing before we slept. I lay on my back one side of the bed; Randy was about a foot away on his side. I rolled on my side facing away from him and started to drift off, eyes closed, thoughts dissipating.

That's when I felt it - something momentarily touching the top of my briefs in an oh-so-gentle way. The feeling lasted about a second. For a moment, I thought I was imagining things.

​Then I felt it again, just slightly firmer this time: a finger gently resting on my side at the top of my briefs. This time, the finger stayed still.

​I rolled over onto my back, still pretending to be asleep, and felt Randy lift his finger off my side. I naively hoped that if I slept on my back, Randy would have to stop whatever he was doing so that I could sleep. Laying on my back, however, inadvertently gave him much easier access to his prize: me!

​I didn't feel anything for a few minutes, so I began drifting off again. Then I felt the finger briefly touch my side once more.

I began wondering what Randy was up to.

​When I didn't react, the finger returned to my briefs and began softly tracing paths across my stomach and along the top of my briefs. His finger's touch put butterflies in my stomach! It was electric!

​I could feel myself starting to stiffen. I was a horny teenager and, while I had fooled around with a few girls, I was still a virgin. But while I would have expected to feel revulsion at another man coming on to me sexually, my cock (surprisingly) disagreed. Strongly.

​I rationalized it. It's not gay if I don't respond. Right? Right.

​Besides, the butterflies in my stomach felt really, REALLY good.

So I laid still, eyes closed and pretending to sleep.

Randy softly traced his finger along the top of my briefs, then gently it nudged under the elastic band and traced back.

I was trying not to squirm or moan.

​Soon, Randy had worked most of his hand under my briefs. With one fingernail, he lightly scratched me, almost tickling, as he moved his finger gently down towards the base of my cock.

This felt very good! It actually gave me goosebumps along my arms and legs!

​His finger traced my cock a few times, around its circumference as well as lengthwise. He snaked his hand down to my balls, gently pulling my scrotum and rolling my testicles in his hand.

Meanwhile, I continued to pretend to sleep.

​Yeah, I know. Pretending to sleep in these circumstances was goofy as hell. All I can say is that it was my mind's way of resolving the conflict between how erotically charged this was getting me with the shame and guilt I associated with doing anything 'gay.'

Soon, Randy wrapped one hand around my cock and slowly stroked it while the other began pulling my underwear off, first on one leg, then the other.

Then I felt him get out of the bed. That's when Randy pulled the covers completely off me.

​I realized this was decision time. I could pretend to wake up, confront Randy, stop him, then get dressed and leave.

Then go somewhere and jerk my rock hard cock off.

​Or, I could stay and experience what I was pretty sure was going to happen and let another person get me off instead of my hand.

​My mind was still confused. 'Why does this excite me? Doesn't this make me a fag? But I like girls. What the hell is going on?'

​My body, on the other hand, knew what it liked, and, for the moment, it REALLY liked what was happening!

​Ultimately, I took the path of least resistance: I stayed. I also continued to feign sleep. In retrospect, that last part is pretty hilarious.

​Randy stopped stroking my cock and, moving his hands to my sides, slowly eased my briefs down my legs and over my feet.

I was nude. In bed. With another guy. This remained confusing, but I couldn't deny that I found it exciting!

​Randy returned to stroking my cock with one hand while wriggled his other hand under me. Randy was groping my ass! Soon, I felt a finger stroking the cleft between my cheeks.

​This was a new sensation. It was the first time anyone played with my ass (including me)!

​It felt divine! Then, things got even better.

I felt something odd on the head of my cock. Something warm, moist, and broad. As it moved, it left a cool trail of moisture behind.

I suddenly realized I was feeling Randy's tongue.

HIS TONGUE!?! ON MY COCK?!?

​I had never felt a tongue, male or female, on my cock before Randy did it.

​Randy licked up and down my shaft, his tongue massaging my iron-hard cock. Soon, he slid my cock into his mouth and began slowly plunging his head up and down it while sucking and continuing to use his tongue. Meanwhile, one of his hands was gently pulling at my scrotum while a finger on the other was pressing slightly on my anus.

It felt incredible! This felt better than anything I had experienced with anyone else to that point in my life. It was at least an order of magnitude better than my hand!

I could feel my orgasm coming, and so could Randy. As my ass began to quiver, he suddenly bit down on my cock's shaft HARD. He bit hard enough to leave a mark that lasted for several hours afterwards.

I came so intensely and hard that I saw stars and lights.

As my cock exploded in his mouth, Randy kept sucking like he was dying of thirst! I pumped load after load of hot cum into his thirsty mouth.

'Well,' I thought, that was an experience. I thought it was over.

​I was wrong. It wasn't over, not by a long shot.

Randy straddled my body, his lower legs and knees trapping my arms by my sides. He scooted up, stroking his hard cock as I watched with one eye barely open.

​Yes, I was still feigning sleep, and yes, it was still ridiculous.

Randy was not a small guy. He was about 6'3", in reasonably good shape, and probably weighed around 195#.

​He brought his cock up, and I felt it push it on my chin. Randy raised up on his haunches, leaned forward, then began dragging his 7" cock back and forth across my face. I could feel traces of precum on my nose and cheeks in the wake of his cock's path.

​Then, he dragged the tip to my lips and left it lying there, leaking precum.

His expectation was pretty obvious.

​I was suddenly a bit scared. 'Do I really want to do this? To suck his cock? That would make me a fag, right? I can't be a fag. I like girls. What the fuck is going on?'

​Randy's cock pushed on my lips, coating them with his precum. To his frustration, I stubbornly refused to open my mouth. After a minute of this, he gave up and scooted back down my torso.

​

I thought that meant we were finally done.

​Wrong again!

​Randy moved back to his side of the bed, then began nudging me to roll back over on my side, facing away from him.

I KNEW what that would mean, and ​I couldn't make myself do it. I thought, 'Doin THAT would make me a complete faggot!'

​Randy soon gave up that exercise and moved his hand back to my cock, gently stroking and playing with it. Soon it was rock hard once more.

​I could feel Randy moving, then felt him straddle my legs. His hand, covered in lube, grabbed my cock. With one hand on my now slick cock, he slowly fed all of my 7" into his (TIGHT) ass!

​I was in shock. But it felt SO good! He must have pushed some extra lube into his ass and around his hole before he lowered himself onto me because my cock was smoothly gliding into him.

​Randy began slowly bouncing on my cock: up, down; up, down. I gave up any pretense of being asleep. My eyes now open, I watched as Randy impaled himself on my dick over and over again.

He began stroking his cock as he bounced. I could feel his hole begin to contract on my cock, then he wildly shot several loads. Cum sprayed on my abdomen, my chest, and the sheets.

​Randy didn't stop. He kept bouncing up and down on my cock. By now, not only were my eyes open, my hips were lifting to meet him and I was moaning softly.

​Soon, I blasted several ropes of cum into his ass. It felt incredible.

​Finally, Randy rolled off of me.

​Neither of us spoke. As he lay back down, I began getting dressed. I knew I had liked it and, towards the end, had actively participated in it. But I was overcome with post-coital regrets. My shame and fear of being called gay or labelled a fag compelled me to leave.

I ended up napping in the parking lot of a local convenience store. I knew the manager; he said he would keep the cops from harassing me until the morning rush started.

​The next morning, I saw Randy at the smoke hole. We briefly made eye contact. I was worried he would say something and utterly humiliate me; by the look on his face, he had the same fears.

​We never spoke about what had happened; we just became a little distant from one another. A few months later, I moved off to college and never really came back home. I never saw Randy again.

​Years later, I learned via a Facebook message (from his gorgeous high school girlfriend, no less), that Randy died in the late 1980s, a victim of the AIDS epidemic. The poor bastard.

​Now that I am older, though, I have made peace of a sorts with what happened and have gained a new perspective on life.

​Randy and I were young, and it had felt very good, even if it came with a ton of anxiety. Today, I like to think that, in the same circumstances, I would do it all for him -- suck his cock, give up my ass, just... everything. He showed me, albeit unintentionally, that sometimes I got turned on by being submissive and used by a man.

​And that episode has been both a source of fun and fantasy for me over 35 years and counting.

​Thank you, Randy. Rest in Peace..