Message-ID: <111308Z18051996@anon.penet.fi>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.homosexual,alt.sex.stories.gay,alt.sex.motss
From: an598075@anon.penet.fi
X-Anonymously-To: alt.sex.homosexual,alt.sex.stories.gay,alt.sex.motss
Organization: Anonymous forwarding service
Reply-To: an598075@anon.penet.fi
Date: Sat, 18 May 1996 11:04:26 UTC
Subject: my first experience
Lines: 189


I am anxious to tell someone about my first experience with another man
and, as I don't find anyone immediately available, I thought I'd write it
down and forward it along, so that someone would see it.

I first fantasized about doing something with another man when I was 17.  A
friend who was gay was sleeping over at my house.  He slept in my room; I
slept on the couch in the living room.  Although I did not feel attracted
to him, I began fantasizing that he might sneak out into the living room
and touch me while I slept.  I lay on my back and pulled my blanket aside,
exposing my briefs.  I would feign sleep and see what he would do, I
thought.  With half-closed eyes I waited and hoped he would emerge.

He never did.  And I never mentioned the fantasy to anyone, but I have
always thought about it.

I'm not very attracted to men as sex objects, but the thought of doing
something "forbidden" in some sense arouses me.  More than that, though, it
was the sleeping aspect of the fantasy, I suppose, that has so intrigued me
over the last seven years since that night--the vulnerable position I was
in, the fearful one he would have been in if he had dared to do anything.
And over that time, I struggled both to forget the night, and to make it
come true.  Yesterday, the latter won out.

I had noticed with little difficulty but fair curiosity the goings-on in
the last couple of rows of the local adult theatre.  The atmosphere was
rather restrained, with mostly older men sitting and staring at young men
as they passed by.  Occasionally, a young man would sit in one of the last
rows, and the older men would look lustfully at him and enviously at the
older man he had seated himself closest too.  Even more occasionally, two
men, after exchanging various looks and subtle signals, would manage to
move next to each other.  From there, I couldn't see what was happening
behind the seats.

After watching this closely a few times, I made my plan.  I went to the
theatre yesterday, arriving early.  The theatre was not crowded, and the
back rows were empty.  I made my way to the center of the back row, which I
had observed was the most serious "action" area.  As far as I had been able
to tell, no one ever sat there without being "available." I sat down,
slouched back in the seat, and half closed my eyes.

Within ten minutes, I noticed out of the corner of my eye the shadow of
someone approaching down the row of seats to my right.  I closed my eyes
and remained still.  I could feel the row of seats jostle as he sat in what
I estimated to be two or three seats away from me.  I could feel his
wondering stare and I began to sweat.  This, then, would be my fantasy.  I
would feign sleep no matter what he or anyone else who came along did--it
might be nothing, it might something I had never considered.  I had no idea
who he was or what he looked like.  No matter what, though, I would not
move.

Moments passed in the darkness.  Unconvincing moans and uninspired music
emanated from behind the screen I could not see.  I felt him shift in his
seat.  Then, suddenly, my attention was redirected to the left, where I
felt the vibration of someone else approaching.  He came closer, hesitated,
came closer still.  Then he sat, not next to me, but there was certainly
only one seat between us.

Again the time passed.  The music died down and, in my sensory-deprived
state, the movie dialogue penetrated my attention despite my best efforts.
"Oh, yes.  He is so hot!"  "Yes, you are right, Tiffany.  He is so hot!"
Suddenly, a shock ran up my leg.  The man on my left had nudged my foot
with his.  I remained still, though every nerve in my body was on fire.
After a minute, another nudge.  I was still.

Finally, the row of seats began jostling.  I could feel that the man on my
left was getting out of his seat, and then quickly, but gently, I could
feel his weight coming down in the seat next to me.  I felt his breath on
my neck and knew he was staring intently at me.  No part of him touched me,
but I felt an immeasurable weight pressing in on me from all sides.  The
darkness was oppressive.  My heart beat was so fast and loud I thought the
whole theatre would hear it.  The sound of the movie now seemed to come
from miles away.

The spell of the weight and the distant music was broken suddenly.  His
hand brushed gently, casually, against the side of my leg.  The sensation
streaked up my body and it was all I could do not to jump out of the seat.
I was thinking a mile a minute.  This is my pact, I thought, trying to
steady myself.  My fantasy.  I will not move, no matter what.  I will not
move.  I am his--whoever he is--to do with as he pleases, to do with as he
dares.

Again, his hand brushed the side of my leg, this time longer and more
purposefully.  I wondered what he must be thinking.  How daring was he
willing to be?  Does he think I am pretending to sleep?  But he couldn't be
sure.  He too must be afraid.

After that, there was a long wait in the darkness, punctuated by extended
periods of his breath on my neck.  He was deciding.  What should he do
next?  What should he risk?

Then it happened.  His hand landed gently on my thigh.  At first it was
cupped, so that only the side of his hand and his thumb touched me.
Slowly, though, he straightened his hand, so that his palm lay flat on my
thigh.  In the intense darkness my sensations were heightened.  I could
feel every finger as it touched my leg in turn.

For a while, his hand stayed motionless, though I could detect a slight
trembling.  But after a few moments, he moved his fingers, spreading them
slightly to feel more of my leg.  Then, his hand began to move.  My head
was reeling.  Each nerve his hand touched in succession was more sensitive
than the previous one, and sent shrieks of sensation up my body as he
reached my inner thigh.  That electric feeling of apprehensiveness exploded
in my stomach as I thought about where his hand might eventually go.
Still, I had not moved.

Suddenly, his hand left my leg.  Did he lose his nerve, I wondered.  Did
the manager walk into the theatre?  I became paranoid.  My eyes had been
shut so long I had no idea what had gone on around me the last twenty
minutes.  My attention had been so absorbed by the man next to me, I
realized I did not know how many other people might be sitting nearby
watching.  I needed to open my eyes, but now I was paralyzed.  My feeling
of vulnerability was intensified immeasurably by my fear.  Every nerve
ending in my body seemed to be straining to make me run.  But I wanted
more.  I wanted him take advantage of my vulnerability.  I wanted to be
used.

Again I felt his breath on my neck.  Again he was thinking.  Then, without
warning, his fingers touched my crotch.  Once, twice, he brushed them
gently on my jeans.  My mind exploded in fear and apprehension and delight.
So afraid had I been the last few minutes, that my penis was not erect at
his first touch.  But with his gentle stroking, the purely physical erotic
nature of the experience began to mount.  As I grew erect under my jeans,
he began to stroke less softly.

Finally, he stopped and shifted in his seat.  Slowly, I felt my zipper
being opened.  Then, my jeans button being undone.  Still, I had not moved.
I had no idea exactly what he was thinking.  Gently but quickly, he
fumbled with my underwear and grasped with his fingertips my erect penis.
The split-second thrill of the first touch surged through me.

After a little more fumbling, he had my penis out in the open.  The air of
the theatre was a chilly contrast to the sweaty confinement of my jeans.
For all I knew, there were a dozen men nearby now looking at me sitting
there with my penis sticking out.  The thought was so frightful and
exhilarating I hardly know how to describe the strange resulting
combination feeling.  Whatever doubts he had before, he must have known now
that I was pretending to sleep.  What must he think of me, I worried.  But
I didn't care.  I would keep my pact.  I would not move.  He could do
anything to me and I promised myself I would not move.

At this point, things began happening so fast I could hardly keep track.
As he stroked my penis, I sensed him leaning closer to me.  I felt his
mouth kiss my neck softly as I lay there with my head back on the seat.  He
moved down my neck with his tongue and then kissed my nipple through my
shirt.  He sat up and I felt his finger brush my lips.  I sensed him moving
toward me, and he kissed my lips, several times, just barely touching them.
He waited, and kissed me again, this time sweeping his tongue through my
slightly opened lips and touching my teeth.  Then, he sat back.

My attention was suddenly shifted.  On my right, another man had just sat
down next to me.  I had lost all sense of my surroundings and had forgotten
completely that there might be other men around.  Immediately, I felt two
hands on my penis.  Another hand began reaching up my shirt to feel my
chest.  The man on my left began kissing and licking my lips again.  The
new guy on the right bent down and took my penis into his mouth.  It felt
like hands were all over me, in my hair, on my chest, on my balls.  The man
on the right pushed his tongue past my teeth into my mouth.  I was blind
with sensations.

Before long, though, I came into the man on the right's mouth, and the
sensations started to die away.  A sense of relaxation hit me, but also a
sense of embarrassment.  Hands still petted and stroked me, but tentatively
now.  I had not planned how I would get out of this situation, and now I
was in a bind.  Without thinking of any clear plan, I moved slightly.
Somewhat comically, all the hands jumped off me--as if anyone could still
believe I really had been asleep.  I guess it was just a reaction born of
the tension that had mounted.  Quickly, I opened my eyes, and in one
motion, stood and began to squeeze past the man on the right.  Buttoning my
pants and pulling up my zipper clumsily as I made my way along the row, I'm
sure I was quite a spectacle.  Glancing back only once, I saw only that
there were about a half a dozen men sitting within a few seats of where I
had been.  One sat in the seat directly in front of me, with his arm draped
over the back, and I expect his was one of the hands I felt too.

Now, even a full day later, I can't quite get used to thinking about it.
I'm drenched in sweat and erect again having written it down and relived
it.  I guess I can't go back to that theatre again.  I wouldn't be able to
recognize who had seen me, and I don't think I would like that feeling.
But, now I'm yearning for another experience.  I suppose I'll have to find
another theatre, or maybe think of something more creative.  Anyway, just
had to relay it to someone.  Thanks.


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