Date: Sat, 29 Oct 2005 01:44:15 -0700
From: tball101@hotmail.com
Subject: My Life in The Closet Part 1: The Beginning

This is a true story about my life and my ongoing struggle with my
sexuality.  I'm writing this as part therapy and part outlet. I live a
closeted life and I have never shared any of this honestly with anyone.
There are graphic depictions of male homosexuality contained in this story
so if you don't like it, don't read it.

Everything's true, most of the names have been changed and geographical
details are murky because I don't want to be outed by this story. But if you
came from my hometown you should be able to figure it out. You might even be
able to guess who I am if you knew me. If that's the case, email me and I'll
give you a prize.

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"My Life in The Closet: The beginning."

I am a gay man. A closeted, gay man living a double life.

I find that hard to write because I don't necessarily like who I am and I
wish I wasn't gay. But when you spend most of your life craving cock, I
guess there's not much you can do about it. You're just gay.

My name is Josh and I am 41 years old. Up until the age of 36 I wasn't
"gay", I was married and had been with the same women for 12 years. It was a
long, loving, heterosexual relationship.

But something wasn't right. Deep down I knew that our relationship would
never last forever. Because deep down I also knew that I had a fascination
with cock that went way back to when I was a kid.

Anytime I could get a look at a dick, I wanted to see it. I have early
memories of looking at my older brothers cocks with awe. And wondering what
it would be like to have them in my mouth.

And then there was Peter. Peter was a good friend of mine during my puberty
years. Peter and another kid Michael and I struck up a weird friendship
during those puberty years, which consisted of being obsessed with talking
about sex(never gay sex) and doing the old, "show me mine and I'll show you
yours" routine.

I remember various shows we held, in bushes, out in the garage and one time
at Michael's house when his parents were out. The biggest thing I remember
was Peter's ample size cock and his more developed pubic region. His dick
was always half hard, thick and veiny when I saw it. I jerked off a lot
thinking about sucking his dick.

But I couldn't be gay. Coming from a working class family, raised in the
Roman Catholic tradition, gays were accepted, but not accepted at the same
time. My jock brothers, my cousins, my Mom were very scornful of "fags" and
it was pretty clear to me that if I wanted to be accepted, I had to be a
heterosexual.

I covered my homosexual leanings by becoming one of the guys. So I tried to
fit in the macho culture of my youth by doing what the other guys did:
drinking beer and trying to have sex with girls.

That worked pretty well. I had a great fun relationship with my brothers and
had a great group of guy friends in school. I had occasional girlfriends and
had my first sex with a girl at sixteen. I liked it.

I loved women's bodies and I loved eating pussy and playing with their tits.
But I especially loved getting blow jobs(who doesn't?). Part of my
attraction to that particular type of sex was imagining myself blowing a
guy. Those thoughts never stopped popping into my mind.

Joey was a guy in my neighborhood who was funny and friendly and always cool
to hang out with. He was a little older than me and I hung out with him a
lot. My mother used to tell me that she thought he was gay, but I always
told her she was crazy.

Well, of course, she was right. By the time I was 16 and Joey was 20 he came
out to the guys in the neighborhood and was pretty flamboyant about his
newfound sexuality. To my surprise, nobody seemed to mind(note to neurotic
self to come out) and life went on as before.

The one that did change was what Joey talked about: cock. All the time. I
was uncomfortable with this but fascinated at the same time.

Joey wanted to show me his new world. One night he told me he had to stop at
a bar to talk to a friend. The place he took me to was The Loft, a gay bar
in the middle of the woods.

As we pulled up, I saw a guy getting out of the passenger side of a car
zipping up his pants and another guy getting out of the driver's side
laughing and wiping his mouth.

"Oh my God, do you think that guy was just getting blown?" I said.

"What do you think?" Joey said. "He wasn't getting his waist size measured."

Joey: the king of the quips. We went inside the bar and my senses were
immediately  bombarded with what I saw: great looking guys dancing with
guys, guys hugging guys and guys kissing guys.

I was so nervous. Then I spotted my middle school language teacher, Mr. F. I
wasn't exactly shocked to see him there. He was very effeminate and all of
us at school figured he was gay. But I was mortified that he would see me at
this gay bar. I had to get out of there. I told Joey we had to go.

Back in the car I told Joey that it wasn't cool for him to be taking me to
these places. Joey said he understood and just took me home.

That night I went home feeling guilty about my travels, but jerked off
furiously at the thought of giving another guy head. I kept on replaying the
image of that guy getting out of the passenger side of the car zipping up
his pants and wished it was me getting out of the driver's side.

After that night, my life continued pretty much as normal. School, my part
time jobs, hanging out with friends and submersing my "dark secret" desires
as deep as they would go.

I still hung out with Joey and to his credit, he never tried to push any
"gayness" on me. But I still hung with him and his new friends and it was
always the pink elephant in the room, titillating and scaring the hell out
of me.

On one of our travels, Joey was driving me home one night and we went
through downtown. He started to drive around the same block twice and I
asked him what he was doing. He said that this was the main cruising route
for gays in the downtown area. Guys would drive around in circles, looking
to make eye contact and connect for sex. I couldn't believe it, but as soon
as he said it, I suddenly noticed all the single guys driving around in
their cars. It was like that sci-fi movie where you can only see the aliens
if you're wearing special sunglasses. All of a sudden I saw a whole new
subtext when I saw those cars on the side of the road with single guys
looking out at each passing car with that expectant and somewhat pathetic
look on their faces.

I can't remember what triggered me into action but at a certain point during
my 16th year, I just knew I needed to try sucking cock. As much as I tried
to push the thought aside, it always came back. And I wanted it so bad.

So one night, after being out late with friends and having a liberal amount
of alcoholic stimulation, I decided to go cruise.

I was so scared. I was afraid of being spotted by someone who knew me or
getting arrested but nothing could stop me from getting a cock in my mouth
this night. Suddenly I was the one with the pathetic look on my face on the
side of the road.

Surely, making me look more pathetic was the fact that I had no idea how to
go about this. I certainly had never done it before and I was lost as to the
"signals". Does the guy come to your car or do you go to his? How do you
know he wants to hook up? I was clueless.

But I was also horny and pretty determined to get to my goal. It was almost
like I was possessed.

So I started my first cruise by copying what I was seeing: guys driving
around the block, peering out their windows as we passed each other, waiting
for some signal. I saw one pretty good-looking guy parked on the side of the
road on one of my passes and he turned his head in my direction. But that
was it, no smile. Nothing.

Another pass. Same thing. On my third pass I thought he seemed to fix his
look on me a little more. As I passed by I thought I saw him crane his neck
to see where I was going. Without any thought, I turned my car around,
pulled up behind him and parked.

Nothing. No signal, no flash, no hand wave. Nothing.

I felt pretty stupid. I certainly wasn't going to get the first cock in my
mouth by sitting alone in my car.

As scared as I was, I got out and walked up to the passenger side of his
car. My heart was beating out of my chest and the short walk to his car
seemed like a mile. I didn't want to get spotted in the side of the road by
someone I knew so I quickened the pace.

I got to his car and he leaned over to crank down the window.

I mustered a bold "Hi".

"Get in" he said.

I got in the car and took a good look at the guy. He was a little older than
me, probably in his early twenties and was pretty good-looking. He had a
moustache and a pretty nice body. He also had a mild look of terror on his
face. His eyes constantly scanned the surroundings looking for cops.

"How you doing?" I said. He looked at me with a bit of disdain and said
"Okay".

Then he just reached down to his pants, undid his fly, and pulled out his
cock. "That was easy", I thought to myself.

His cock was flaccid and small, but I could tell he was circumcised and it
had a nicely shaped head, just like mine. His little mushroom head sat there
on its small, fleshy pedestal waiting for some attention.

No words were spoken. I just leaned over and put my mouth on my tiny prize
and started to suck it. I couldn't believe it. I finally had a cock in my
mouth. I was so excited.

I noticed the smell of his crotch and loved the way the spongy dick felt in
my mouth. I was sucking it and loving it, the way I had imagined so many
times before.

I had never given head before, so I'm sure I wasn't that great, but I
couldn't have been that bad, because his cock started to grow in my mouth. I
was so excited as I could feel his head swell and his short shaft start to
get longer and thicker. To this day, I love to suck a guy when he's soft and
get him hard with my mouth.

As I said earlier, I was possessed and on a mission and I didn't take much
time to stop and smell the roses so to speak. I just sucked for all I was
worth.

Fully erect, the guy had a pretty nice dick. Around 6" with a nice mushroom
head and medium thickness. Pretty much like mine.

He started moaning and groaning and I knew he was going to cum. Strangely
enough, I hadn't really thought about the end result of a blow job being a
load of sperm in my mouth. I was more fixated on the actual idea of sucking
a dick and had never really thought about the protocol of swallowing or
spitting. I know it sounds strange, but it never occurred to me.

I knew he was building up, so I decided to stay and finish the job. I
figured I might as well get the whole experience.

He didn't say anything but his cock was at it's biggest and as I was
slurping away he suddenly grunted and started to cum in my mouth. What I got
was more than I bargained for. The guy came in buckets and my mouth was
literally full of cum. I thought that I would be able to swallow most of it
and not really taste it too much but that plan was literally blown the
second he started to cum.

He shot two or three huge spurts that I gagged on a bit and cum swirled all
around my tongue and taste buds. I didn't think it tasted that bad at all
and was really turned on by how much this guy came. I just keep sucking and
swallowing his jism. The thought crossed my mind that I had just become an
actual cocksucker.

I lapped him clean and he started to relax and get soft. I didn't want this
to end so I just kept going. I went too long because he must have gotten to
the post ejaculation sensitive phase and told me to stop with a bit of
urgency.

All of a sudden, he was like a different guy. He smiled and asked me if he
could give me a call sometime and we could go to a motel. I panicked, I said
I didn't think so and left quickly.

I drove home with a raging hard on and jerked off to the memories of my
first blow job. Once I blew my load, clarity of thought and a sense of calm
came over me.

Even though I was perfectly fine with what I had done, I convinced myself
that I'd never do it again.

I was curious and satisfied my curiosity. But I also knew that what I did
was not exactly something I should be doing a lot of. I performed a risky
public sex act and didn't get caught -- this time.

Drifting off to sleep that night I knew that there was no need to go down
that road again, literally and figuratively.

I had no idea that I'd be writing this story 25 years later, still
pleasantly sore from a great ass fucking I got last night. How I got from
there to here will be explained in my continuing installments.

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I hope you liked my story. If you'd like to read more about my closeted
life, email me at tball101@hotmail.com I'd love to hear what you thought.