NOTICE: Just so everyone knows, this post includes sexually explicit and graphic language.
In today's post I decided to tell things a little differently from the past two. I think it was pretty obvious from what I wrote yesterday that both Brad and I lost our virginity that night.
Over the past few weeks I've been thinking some about what is exactly involved when a gay guy looses his virginity. Did I technically lose my virginity at the exact moment when I fucked Brad? Most people would say it's pretty obvious that Brad lost his at that moment. But what about me? Was it when I penetrated him or was it when he penetrated me? And why does any of this matter? In the whole scheme of things it probably doesn't matter at all. I've just been thinking about it because of writing these posts.
Maybe I'm just over thinking everything (which I have a tendency to do anyway), but I don't think there's anything wrong in that. It's just been something kinda interesting to think about (at least to me).
If you think about straight guys losing their virginity, there's probably nothing to ponder, right? I guess most people would say it's when they fuck a girl, you know, when they have vaginal (or maybe anal) intercourse with a girl. When they penetrate.
But with gay guys, some are only tops and some are only bottoms. And some switch and do both. In talking to some of my gay friends three of them have
said they have absolutely no desire to ever bottom. They've just never had any desire to be fucked (by which I mean to be the bottom).
And I have two friends who only want to bottom. They have no desire to ever be the top. And I have some friends who say they just "go with the flow" and do whatever they're in the mood for at the moment.
For me, I had been dreaming and thinking about having sex with another guy ever since puberty started. Of course I never knew about all the different ways you could have sex. In the beginning all I was thinking about was wanting to look at naked guys, hold hands, kiss. I think that was all it meant to me. That's what I would fantasize about when I would jerk off.
When all those hormones started flowing it seemed like they never turned off. It was like I was horny at least 23 hours a day. I have no idea what it's like for girls so I don't know if it's the same for them as it is for guys. And to be truthful, I have no idea if being horny 23 hours a day is typical for other guys. All I can say is it was typical for me.
Of course, that whole "23 hour" thing is just a humorous exaggeration on my part to make the point that it felt like it was always on my mind around the clock. When I hit puberty I remember it never took much for me to get a hard-on. Sometimes I'd just be sitting at my desk in class trying to get ahead on my homework for the next day. I might be concentrating on trying to remember the date the Constitution was ratified and just like that, out of the blue, I would realize my dick was hard. I was never even aware it was starting to gradually get hard until after it was there. A full hard-on was sitting in my underwear! Just like that.
As I got older I started making up all these fantasies about what it would be like to kiss another guy and do other things. Then what it would be like to stand in front of a naked guy and just look at his body, front and back. Then what it would be like to touch him all over and do other things, like jerk him off and have him jerk me off.
When other guys at school would try to be "cool" (which should really be translated as "cruel"), they would sometimes make all these comments about how a particular boy (usually somebody skinny or shy or different in some way) really wanted to be fucked in the ass. Or how they really wanted to suck another boy's dick.
So naturally I began thinking about what all this meant. I mean, getting fucked in the ass, huh? Well, that got my attention (and interest). Then I started thinking about what it would be like to fuck another guy's ass. And that got me even more excited. So my fantasy life was really expanding. I remember thinking about some cute guys I'd love to fuck in the ass. That's what I started thinking about more than anything else. Why? I have no idea. All I know is thinking about fucking another guy's ass seemed to always play center stage for me.
That night in Newport I remember wanting so badly to fuck Brad, meaning be the top. When I got out of bed to get the lube that was still on the table, I returned to the bed and Brad was lying on his stomach. We hadn't talked about who would be the top or the bottom, but it was pretty obvious what Brad had in mind. And, to be honest, I couldn't have been more excited and turned on by that.
Needless to say, there was more to the whole thing than I had imagined. It was obvious that even with the lube, Brad was having a difficult time relaxing and the very last thing I ever wanted was to hurt him physically. In my earlier fantasies, going through puberty, I thought when I was able to finally fuck a guy, it would be a pretty simple thing. You just stuck your dick in the guy's ass and started fucking away. In the fantasies, you just kept doing that until you came in his ass.
Real life fucking for the first time was a lot more complicated. At first there was pain involved and you really had to take your time. This was not going to happen and be over with in 10 minutes. We both had to talk to each other while this was happening and I needed to be aware of how to make it easier for him and ultimately pleasurable. Whenever he would wince or tighten up or would make a sound that it was hurting or ask me to stop and rest, it just about killed me knowing it was hurting him.
I've written before about how slowing myself down has always been difficult, especially when my brain is revving. That night, however, something different happened. It required no effort on my part to slow down. This was too special a night and my first concern was how to make this enjoyable for Brad.
I almost started crying when I heard how painful it was for him at the beginning. This became, however, one of those rare moments in my life when it took no effort on my part to slow myself down. I remember thinking we might have to delay the whole thing and try again at a later date. That would have been fine by me. Whenever this was going to happen, we both had to experience it as pleasurable and something really special and precious.
I think the first time getting fucked (or being the bottom) is probably the most difficult, or at least it gets a little easier each time. As you remember from yesterday's post, we took all the time we needed and it ended up being even better than I could have imagined.
After thinking about all this for a while, being the top means a couple of things to me. From a purely physical standpoint, there is this incredible sensation that goes all through my body when I'm inside Brad. It's tight and is absolutely nothing like the feeling I get when using my hand to jerk myself off. I like being able to go fast, slow, gentle or even a little rougher. It's such a turn on waiting to see how Brad is responding. Or I can do this "teasing" thing by pulling out and waiting a few seconds before going back in. It not only gives me a physical high but it's also about seeing how he's experiencing pleasure that is such a turn on for me.
The other thing this all means to me is a little harder to describe. When I come inside him I know I'm giving him something my body has made and just knowing it's inside him is like an incredibly intimate thing. It's like even after I pull out, I'm still inside him. Just knowing I'm giving him that is so, so special to me. This may sound a little corny but it's almost like I'm giving him some of my masculine energy or masculinity.
During that night in Newport, without even giving it much thought, I knew right then I wanted to experience what Brad had. To be honest, I wasn't doing much "thinking" at the time and what you're reading here is me looking back on the whole night. All I remember is that I wanted Brad to fuck me.
I'd be repeating myself to describe the whole thing over again. My getting fucked happened in a very similar way that it did for Brad. How he got my ass ready. How painful it was at first. How it became less painful the more I relaxed. You can reread what I wrote yesterday and you'll get the idea.
Since we've been together, Brad prefers to bottom probably 95% of the time. I guess you can figure out where that leaves me. And you know what? It couldn't be a more perfect arrangement for us.
I have no memory of what time it was when we finally drifted off to sleep that night (or rather morning). Before we fell asleep, Brad remembered that bottle of non-alcoholic wine he picked up at the pharmacy. He got out of bed to get the bottle and two of those cheap, clear plastic cups they give you in motels. The bottle was room temperature and he added a few cubes of ice to the cups and poured us both a glass.
My parents had let me take sips of real wine at dinner before but this non-alcoholic stuff was, well, I hate to spoil the moment, but it was like what I imagine sewage tasting like. Did either of us say that or make a disgusting face when we took a sip? Nope. Not on your life. I think we were both thinking the exact same thing because we took just one really tiny sip and put the plastic cups back on the table. When we woke up the next morning, whatever was in that bottle went down the drain!
Oh, what was the toast we made? It was just something simple like, "To us. Forever." I remember at the time thinking those words were the most original and creative toast ever made in the history of the world!
Before we fell asleep, Brad decided to give me a name like I had done for him earlier. Again, I'll put it in dialogue form:
Brad: "So, I have a new name for you."
Me: "What's that?"
Brad: "My Pearl. You're my Pearl."
Me: "Nice. Why 'Pearl'?"
Brad: "Well, if a pearl comes out right, it's something that's perfect and lasts forever. And it's a thing of real beauty."
Me: "That's sweet. You're my Dove and I'm your Pearl."
Brad: "You don't think that's silly, do you?"
Me: "No. Not silly at all. A Dove means 'peace' and a Pearl means "forever.' That's not silly at all."
Brad: "You forgot to say a pearl is perfect and beautiful."
Me: "Okay. Forever... perfect... and beautiful."
Brad: "I like that."
Me: "Me too."
Brad: "Good night."
Me: "Good night."
I hope you guys enjoyed this. It gave Brad and I a chance to remember and relive a very special night.
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