Date: Sat, 08 Sep 2001 03:33:26 +0100
From: Tom Gerund <tomgerund@hotmail.com>
Subject: Love at First Night (Gay - first love)

Disclaimer: The following is a true story. Only the significant other's name
has been altered. Other particulars, ie the city, are unaltered, and nothing
that I can think of has been written that is not believed to be wholly
accurate by the author.  This is a one-off. I have not previously submitted
here or anywhere else and doubt I ever will again. Warning: this is more
slushy than pornographic.  Not what I ever came to this site to read, but
then you can't beat the real thing when it slaps you in the face when you
least expect it.  It was also written at speed over one hour in order to
record the experience and not to spin a well crafted yarn.  Apologies for
resultant deficiencies.  Hope some of you enjoy it. If you recognise anyone
then keep your trap shut please.

Love at First Night

I have read stories on this website for my own pleasure for a few years now,
particularly the first time section. I've never really given second thought
to the possibility of some of them being genuine. But now adding my own
genuine experience I begin to wonder how many of the others are real too.

It happened last night, Thursday the 6th of September 2001, and before it
disappears completely I wanted to put it down. I was in Glasgow in business
and was staying at one of the few decent hotels.  I knew noone in the city
having come up alone and after I had met my business people, I afforded
myself a second day, ostensibly to check out the gay scene. I am 29, slim
and quite fit in the no spare fat sense, toned, but at 5'9" feel a little on
the short side.  However I am good-looking enough to get away with it

I have been into other men for three years now in fits and starts, and laid
off for a year while in a serious relationship with a girl who was and
remains stunning and an inspiration for many wet bedsheets.  After we split
a few months back, I let myself free with renewed abandon, and launched
myself onto the London scene. But because I was not out, and still fell in
love with at least ten women a day, I restricted my antics to shadowy
semi-private places where I felt anonymous and safe - like chatrooms,
phonelines and saunas.

Most importantly I maintained a strong conscious control over it all. I
could feel myself becoming quite turned on by dicks, and by cute guys, and I
had recently started to kiss them.  The problem is one rarely meets cute
guys at these places so kissing is limited. Bizarrely, or maybe not, I am
happy to suck someone's dick if I don't find them that attractive facially -
and it matters even less if they're sucking me. But I can't kiss someone
unless I am really turned on. And that sadly is very rarely the case in such
dodgy places as saunas which normally attract the dregs that need a little
darkness to hide their spare tractor tyres.

This had let me build up a basic belief that my gay side was limited to a
desire for superficial casual experiences. A few men I liked enough to want
to see again I had exchanged numbers with (I got a second mobile for
safety's sake) and at least had got to the stage of seeing a few men more
than once. But this was still a rarity and I still had not felt for them any
way as strongly as even the women who walked past on the streets oblivious
of my very existence, let alone exes.

So I believed essentially that love was purely reserved for women. The
desire to spend the night, to literally sleep with someone, to hold them
close and bury ones lips and nose in their hair, to breathe them in, to look
them in the eye for ours and to lean forward and touch their lips with
yours, to slide lips across each other barely touching, to swim in their
mouths, to dive deeper and deeper and then to disengage and look at them
again, absorbing it all in. To feel love, a deep, happy, all-consuming sense
of rightness, of being.  Yes that's right the sloppy stuff.

So back to Glasgow, rarely a scene for anything remotely romantic. Early
September and while London was still clinging on to some semblance of
summer, Glasgow had given in unconditionally to winter. Folds of grey
broiled above the matching buildings and yet the Glaswegians clung to
T-shirts as though to justify the very purchase of summer clothes.

A cursory foray into the town's depressing tumbledown Gay, Lesbian and Other
Freaks Centre had convinced me there was not exactly a scene to speak of.
You see I had imagined that for the first time I could experiment in
stepping out into the limelight on the basis that I knew noone within 500
miles of the city and could have a little harmless fun. I could actually
walk into a gay bar! Openly, not furtively, looking over my shoulder,
lurking in shadows.

The city seemed to have one sauna, Centurion, housed in a portacabin-like
block of concrete slabs with a bathtub of a Jacuzzi, one sauna and three
private rooms.  Miraculously among the three others there was one almost
attractive man. I fucked him on his request, not willing to cause offence by
refusing - the reason behind at least half all my gay sex experiences.  That
was I think only the second time I had fucked a man and it was eminently
forgettable. Nonetheless after wanking off we walked over to a gay bar.

We sat alone at a bar and said very little as I happily soaked in the scene
and let my eyes freely roam the place.  It was busy but not uncomfortably
so, with a complete mix of ages and types. Nothing obscene or outre, very
normal people. One quintessential queen was dancing sinuously at the front
and a quiz kept conversation under raps for a couple of hours. I was
thoroughly bored. The one time I had dared to step out to conquer the gay
world, I was stuck with someone I didn't fancy, where in fact I had the
courage and desire to walk up to anyone there and talk.

After a couple of hours I wondered how to execute an exit strategy, when I
looked behind me towards the bar and saw him, a tall, impossibly young man
standing moodily alone, propped up against a pillar.  He was nonchalantly
browsing his eyes over the populace with little apparent interest and was
nurturing a plastic bottle of water. He wore baggy jeans and a clingy sky
blue top rolled up at the sleeves. God like and model like, thin to the
point of lankiness, with translucent skin that fair shone with health and
youth.

But it was his face that had me gulping for air.  It had never seen a spot,
stubble had yet to pollute it, he had high cheekbones and big beautiful
eyes. It was intensely masculine with a broad chin but also soft and
feminine, light clear skin light eyebrows long and luxuriously sensuous Mick
Jagger lips and beautiful brown eyes you could get lost in. I tried to pull
my gaze away and turned back to my table. Actually I wasn't in too much of a
state because you see people like that in London a lot and in any case it
means nothing unless you connect.

My new friend cajoled me into offering him a drink. Funnily enough if he had
been a woman I would never have even tried.  But being emboldened by alcohol
and the awareness that there were friends to be humiliated in front of,
after half an hour of slyly watching him slink around sulkily avoiding eye
contact with everyone who looked at him too closely, I sidled up to him by
the bar and asked if he wanted a drink. No thanks he replied in a soft
Glaswegian accent - the first time I had considered the poetry of the
tongue. But then had he spoken Inuit I would probably have been converted to
its delights.

Caught in the full glare of this obvious rejection I blurted out "so are you
here to pull or to meet friends?".

He smiled at the impudence and shook his head slowly.  "I'm on my way home."

I can't remember what we said next but after a little stumbling I found my
feet and realised we had a lot in common. He was eighteen, towered over me,
and had a number of casual girlfriends.  He was bi-curious but turned off by
a lot of the gay thing. Anal sex made him want to puke, which it does me
too.  I asked him what he was doing later and he said going home.  I told
him he was beautiful - in passing you understand, not too obvious. I mean
stunning, model like, I added. He smiled indulging me, politely.  But
conversation was light and easy.

After half an hour he said he was leaving and turned and looked at me and
casually asked if I wanted a lift back to the hotel.  I said yes a little
too quickly and we walked out immediately. My old acquaintance limped behind
us for a little before slipping away quietly.  He squeezed his long frame
into a Nissan micra and we sped off through the empty streets onto the
sliproad to the hotel.

We opened up in the car talking about how strange it was fancying women and
men and he said he found the whole gay scene in Glasgow "minging" which
English readers will recognise as something close to repulsive.  He hated
camp people and had had a few limited experiences. He did not know what he
was and none of his friends or family knew anything.  Same as me.  But he
admitted a strange interest in cocks that he couldn't understand. Same here
again. "I'm desperate for a piss" he added and I told him to use my toilet
in the room.  Things were looking up though I still didn't dare to hope. I
still thought all this was sympathy for someone he had rejected and basic
courtesy.

We walked through reception and into the lift past the reception toilets.
Good, I thought. In the room he went straight for the toilet and I turned on
the TV with the soft porn on I had ordered earlier.  Women were writhing
about in obviously fake bliss shivering their bodies in ecstasy as they
moved their faces in the rough area of the others pussy.  Not that much of a
turn on. Like so much straight porn, most of the turn on was the quality of
the body itself not what they did.

He walked out of the bathroom and fell onto the bed where I was and we
watched the porn praising the fake tits on one of the women. I took my turn
in the loo and he said "but there are no cocks".

"Come on this is Britain. We don't believe in cocks". He laughed and I
joined him back sprawled on the bed.

He looked at me and said "you know, I don't think you're gay".  I knew this
was a big compliment from him.

Our heads were quite nearby propped on elbows and we looked into each others
eyes a little too long.  There was a definite pause of connection. An almost
audible click. We had clicked.

I was thinking vaguely of leaning over when he moved his body suddenly
towards me and kissed me full on the lips, soft but urgent, blissful. Our
lips parted and we looked at each other smiling.  Another pause before I
leant forward touched his cheek with my finger, tracing his cheekbone down
to his lips and then kissed him back, pushing my tongue in and connecting
with his, swimming in his mouth sloppily spilling my saliva over his chin
and lips, chewing his fat gorgeous lips. I could feel him slipping his hand
onto my belly and up my torso and I tried the same. He was taut and lean
with shiny soft baby skin stretched over muscle.  I pulled off his top and
he moaned and we kissed rubbing our bodies over each other.  We kissed for
what felt like hours, holding each others heads as though frightened they'd
fall off.  I rolled on top of him and humped him over his jeans feeling his
cock stab my belly through his trousers, grazing over all his torso.

"Does this do anything for you?" I asked playing with his nipple with my
tongue. He looked embarrassed.

"Me neither. But for some reason I really want to lick and feel yours, even
though I know it feels nothing to you."

He smiled. "Go for it".  I teased his nipples with my teeth and he kissed my
hair, slow big kisses, chewing on my ear, breathing heavily into it, moaning
softly. Then he did the same to me. We paused again and nuzzled noses, eyes
closed, and kissed again.

I felt lost completely and happy, chilled, relaxed, in no rush (with women I
always want to cum). We kissed for hours, stopping sometimes to kiss around
the face and the eyes. He said I was very attractive and particularly in the
eyes, and that I had a gorgeous body. I can understand the eyes as enough
people have said that for such a comment to get past my highly cynical
filter.  And the body was currently in good shape as I had recently bought
weights and was still in my first blossom of romance with them before they
joined the other detritus of my fitness machines - the abdominiser and the
bullbar. He ran his hand over my cock over my trousers and felt for the
buckle of my belt. Much struggling later we were naked but for our boxers.
I kissed his cock through his boxers, his shiny puppy like red helmet poking
through, which I kissed lightly but mainly left alone.

I pulled them down and jumped on top of him, sliding myself over his body,
holding him tight, kissing him again and again, swimming in his eyes. We
laid next to each other occasionally bestowing a light kiss on a new part of
the others body, the soft inside elbow, the back of the neck, above the
crotch, and especially the eyes. I wanted to make love to him but I had no
idea how to.

"I don't know what to do with you" I said.

"I know. Me too," he replied.

"I would love you to stay here tonight" I said boldly.  He moaned in
agreement.

"I really really want to too."

"I can order breakfast in bed. Imagine their faces as they open the door".

"I don't know if I can. I dropped off my kid sister in a club and I told
her I was off straight home. I have to get home before her."

"Tell her you've pulled".

"She'll never believe me". God has Glasgow gone mad! Has he been passed by
by the womenfolk! We lay interlocked and occasionally kissing for more time.
  "If I ever wanted a boyfriend it would be you" he said.

"I was thinking something similar. I was going to say something like I gave
a little luurve tonight." I mocked the L word, embarrassed at my slushiness.

"Yes. Definitely.  A little love" he agreed.  He kissed me again long and we
rolled around the bed in each others mouths.

"I've never felt this way with a man before" I admitted. "Me neither" he
agreed.

"In fact I'll go further. I honestly didn't believe I could feel like this.
It feels so right, so good, so natural. I never thought this would ever
happen with another man".  He was kissing my eyes as I talked.  "Now what
the fuck am I going to do with my life?".

We then spooned and I was behind him with my hand over his fat hard dick, my
face buried in his neck.  I fell lightly asleep.

He woke me up saying "I have to go".  It was 3:30. We'd been in bed 4 hours.
  At least 3 of those kissing.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. My kid sister will go mental".

I didn't struggle. I felt this whole piece of magic was doomed to end anyway
as I was leaving for London the next day and not likely to come back for
some time and he was ten years younger than me, at least six inches taller,
and too good looking, and of course neither of us were out. Neither of us
were even sure what we were.

So I didn't put up a struggle.  I said if you must. "I fell asleep for a
minute then. That's the first time I've ever slept with another man." I told
him.  I felt completely in love with him. Completely in love. I wanted so
much to say it but didn't have the heart. I didn't want to ruin the moment.
But I also felt a little detached as I had not even then committed myself to
being gay.  I still love one ex very much, and even though we have not slept
with each other for two years now we speak to each other every day and say I
love you, even though we will never go out again and she is married and I
work my way through other relationships.  Being gay would feel like such a
betrayal of our love.

Nat - that was his name - was the only man I loved in the same way, a kind
of love from inside you that just grows and suddenly seems a vital part of
you without you having noticed it.  Or more succinctly, a love that was
always there waiting to be discovered.  He felt part of me.  The fact that I
didn't know what to do with my dick seemed irrelevant.  I didn't really want
to cum.

But as he said he was going I said I'd have to blow him then and took his
cock in my mouth, sucked on him almost all the way down. His helmet was too
sensitive and with my finger had to keep his foreskin over it while I went
down on him.  Finally he went down on me, gently and slowly, and ages later
said "I could suck your cock all night".

The sad thing was that being almost teetotal my two drinks (which I lied up
to three) had left me too far removed from ejaculation whereas he was
bursting on the brink.  He had been oozing precum all night and I had been
licking it up all night as it oozed from his dick - much to his disgust (he
didn't like cum either).  We wanked each other for a little while and then
without warning he came over his belly in very clear puddles. He jerked more
furiously at mine but I was far away, already two shots that day and only a
distant promise of a third.

He laughed at me and cajoled me "You big poof you". He got up and walked to
the loo "Gotta go". I felt his feelings rush back to normality. Maybe he was
disgusted again at what we'd done, the same way I used to be in the early
days when I did my first gay mutual jerkoffs.

I wanked furiously and was within a whisker of coming when he reappeared and
stared at me hands on hips. I lost the will and sagged. Felt completely
ridiculous and humiliated.  "You can do that all night. You have your
imagination" he said. Not meaning to be callous.  We had both talked about
it being so perfect we didn't want to ruin it with cumming. God knows what
was now going through his head.

He was jumping into his clothes and I sat up in the bed watching him dress,
helpless.  I gave him my business card and wrote my home e-mail on it (the
first time I had given my card to any gay encounter). He promised to get in
touch. I wondered if it had been wise to have given him my number. Maybe it
was better as one perfect night (albeit marred by my spectacular inability
to cum with the most beautiful person I'd ever shared a bed with. It
reminded me of another embarrassing moment when a female model girlfriend
was giving me the blowjob of my dreams some years back right down to the
base, her large breasts sliding over my belly, and I couldn't cum and she
took silent umbrage.)

Why couldn't I cum? What's wrong with me? In both cases it was drunk.
Fucking evil alcoholic piss.

So I walked him to my door still naked with my dick waving goodbye in the
air, and he kissed me, held me, smiled at me and vanished.  I returned to
the bed and in a few seconds had redecorated the wall behind me. I always
cum gallons - I had been a sperm donor at uni for spare cash and after a few
extra tests had been told I was a super sperm machine, in the top 0.1% of
the male populace, got double money as each time I made enough for two
little tubs, and it had become a little party trick, splattering for eight
or ten shots over everything in sight. I had wanted to cum for him, to give
him that.  Angry with myself, I drifted to sleep.

I told all my friends about it, but in the story he had become "Natalie or
Natalia I can't remember which".  But after only one day of narrating the
surreal event I have already said "he" instead of "she" a few times.  Got to
be super careful in this game.

Sitting alone staring at the green hills of the Lake District as I snaked
back to London in first class, almost alone in the carriage, I felt more
alone than ever before in my life.  Knowing I couldn't be with him, and not
knowing what in fact I wanted.  It was enough to cause me to phone my last
two girlfriends for a little love. My most recent one we had split very
messily and I was giving her breathing space to get herself settled again
and over me. She sounded very over me but a little scratching beneath the
surface and the same pain and need was there. All bluff. Probably still
wanted me back.

But she was not enough for me and I wondered and wondered who ever would be.
I am still fairly sure I am that rare freak of nature a bisexual. I love
beauty. A beautiful face makes me want to make love to it, woman or man.  If
anything I would be more straight now as my gay standards were now at
precipitous heights.

And now I am writing this all down. Love at first night. Leaving me
completely shell-shocked and confused. Not unhappy, but a little more
lonely.  And a lot more confused.

Any thoughts would be interesting. E-mail me at tomgerund@hotmail.com