My first homosexual experience was when I was a teenager in junior high. My older brother had a friend, well I guess he was friends with both of us but he was my older brother’s age and they hung out together more than him and I did. He was only a couple of years older though so occasionally he would come over and if my older brother wasn’t home he would just hang out with me.
Mostly it was playing video games or talking about dumb, teenager stuff. I was pretty sheltered and didn’t have a lot of friends of my own so I was really shy. He did most of the talking so I was pretty comfortable with that, just being able to sit and agree to almost everything. For the sake of not using real names I’ll refer to him as Lonnie, which rhymes with his real name (no, you won’t guess it. It’s very unique.)
Throughout my teenage years and my twenties I’ve often fantasized about my experience with Lonnie and wondered how it would have gone if only a few things changed. If I had reacted differently or made a slightly different choice or been slightly more submissive in agreeing to what he suggested. I’m going to write what happened in reality and not embellish any of it. I will state here and there what I wish I might have done or said but I’m not going to change any of the things that actually happened, and then when it’s done I’ll treat myself and write how I now wished it would have gone in a fantasy land where everything ends up perfect.
There are some aspects of the story that are hazy or that I don’t remember at all, and unfortunately I don’t remember exactly how we got into talking about sex. I have a couple of theories, but I can’t recall if any of them are accurate.
My first thought is that I was a very late bloomer and a very shy loner so I spent a lot of my time alone. As I started to get sexually curious in my mid-teenage years I had to use what I had access to, this all happening before the time computers were a regular thing and accessible in everyone’s home and bedroom. One of the first things I remember doing is copying a picture of Ariel from the Little Mermaid. I traced her face and hair all the way down to her seashell bra, but, being the horny teenager I was, I left off the seashells and drew breasts with nipples. I slipped it in the corner of my bed and used it to masturbate on occasion, since I didn’t own any pornography of my own.
One day my older brother was in my room with Lonnie playing video games. Lonnie was on my bed when he reached into the corner of it randomly and pulled out the picture. I saw the piece of paper, it was yellow like a post-it, and I heard him exclaim, “what the hell is this?”
I turned around immediately and left the room, red with embarrassment which only got worse when I heard laughter shortly after. I have no proof that this is what triggered Lonnie’s thought into introducing me to actual pornography and porno magazines or not, but it all really makes sense. I can’t remember why or when he first brought one over but I do remember that he just brought it out and started showing me them.
They were Hustler magazines and he would flip through them and show me all of the naked women and point out the ones he liked. I was so shy that I didn’t really say anything and mostly tried not to look even though I’m pretty sure I wanted to. He ended up leaving some of them with me and I did look at them and I definitely jerked off to them. It was much more satisfying jerking off to a real naked woman than a sketch of a cartoon mermaid (no shade to Ariel, I still am in love with you).
Sometime not too long after that, at school, Lonnie had come up to me and asked me which of the magazines I liked and which was my favorite. I was mortified at him bringing it up at school thinking someone would hear. I’m sure every other teenage boy was doing something similar but from my perspective this was a taboo thing and should stay a secret. I never did answer him at school despite his attempts to get it out of me.
One night after school he came over and my brother wasn’t home. He said he was going to ask to stay the night but I wasn’t sure where my brother was so he asked if he could hang out with me instead. He instantly jumped on the pressure of asking me about the magazines again and I was so awkward about it all I didn’t want to talk about it. He persisted and I continued to resist and say no. This is when he started doing this bizarre thing he referred to as E Honda.
E Honda is a character from the video game Street Fighter. He’s a large japanese sumo wrestler and I don’t exactly get why he called it this but Lonnie would grab my privates between my legs and squeeze until I agreed to tell him about which of the magazines were my favorite. He didn’t squeeze hard but it was awkward enough and the pressure was tight enough that I caved pretty quick and did whatever he wanted.
I told him my favorite girl was a girl who started out in a jean outfit and a cowboy hat. She had nice breasts and a pretty face. At one point I even recall her eating a watermelon, but I may be misremembering that. Lonnie knew exactly what girl I was talking about and opened the magazine to her and agreed she was a good choice.
“So, did you jerk off to her?” He asked.
I only nodded my head.
“Did you finish?”
I meekly nodded again.
“How long did it take you?”
I was always confused by this question. I still am, slightly. I don’t know if this was just an odd thing to ask or if it was part of his plan, a plan that he had concocted all along to make the night go the way he wanted it to go because when I told him it didn’t take me long he asked specifically how long. When I told him it was only a minute or so more he reacted in complete disbelief. As a teenager without much experience in the world I was completely baffled by his reaction but he made it seem like I was an olympic sprinter being able to ejaculate so fast. I was completely thrown by his next request.
“Let me see you,” he asked.
“See me what?” I was very confused.
“I want to see if it actually only takes you a minute to jerk off.”
This is where I drew the line, “no. No. Absolutely not.”
“Come on, just let me see. I want to see if it's true.”
“No, Lonnie. I’m not going to jerk off in front of you.”
“Let me do it for you then,” he said with a completely straight face.
“What?!” I was shocked.
“No. I don’t want to,” I said quickly after.
“You don’t have to, I’ll do it for you,” he insisted. I don’t understand how the idea of me not wanting to jerk off in front of him was mistaken for me not wanting to touch my dick in front of him but him doing it for me would be considered okay. Although, this is one of those points in the story where I kind of wish I had said something different. It would turn into more of a typical porn story if I had said yes though as it was such an outrageous suggestion I can’t imagine anyone agreeing who didn’t already want to. But, if I had said yes and that he could do it for me, everything else would have been ratched up quite a bit more.
“No!” I was adamant.
“I’ll do it too, then,” he said, thinking that if we were both in the same situation it wouldn’t be so bad, “we could sword fight then.”
“Sword fight?” I was back to being confused.
“Yeah, where two guys take their dicks out and smack each other with them.”
I just stared at him for a moment thinking how incredibly dumb that sounded.
“Hell no. I’m not doing that!”
He continued to pester me though, asking if he could see me jerk off and that he didn’t believe me that I could finish so quickly. The more he asked, the more I grew nervous and shy about it. Eventually I got up and I think he thought I was going to leave or go tell someone how he was pressuring me so he did the E Honda thing again and grabbed my crotch through my pants and squeezed.
I yelped and groaned and told him to stop. I begged him to let go.
“Only if you show me how fast you are,” he said.
He was squeezing harder this time and I wanted it to stop so I agreed. I said I would and he let go of me.
I don’t know if there is some part of me that actually wanted to or maybe I was just a stupid teenage kid and wasn’t thinking, but instead of walking out of the room I walked over to the door and locked it. I knew as much to lock the door in case anyone tried to come in. I’m not sure how I would have explained me jerking off in front of Lonnie to anyone. I definitely didn’t want to have to try.
I knelt down in front of him and he leaned forward as if he was studying some very interesting medical procedure or ancient ritual. I unbuttoned my pants and pushed them down my thighs, thankfully (or maybe not) I was wearing a long t-shirt and it covered all the way down to my thighs so I wasn’t really that exposed to him. He wasn’t a fan of that though.
“I can’t see anything, take off your shirt,” was what he said to me.
I said no.
“Can you move it at least?”
I sighed and pulled the hem of my shirt up over my head and around the back of my neck so my chest, stomach and waist were all exposed. He could clearly see my dick in my hand now and he told me to start.
I nervously begin. My hand is stroking and trying to get it hard, despite the audience. Thankfully he’s pretty quiet, not saying anything or breathing too heavily, but he’s watching me stroke. The room was completely silent, but as I picked up more steam the button on my pants started jingling back and forth. I’m not even sure how it was making any noise but it almost sounded like a tiny bell rattling back and forth. As I continued it became more consistent and distracting and it was annoying Lonnie.
“Can’t you just take them off?” He asked.
This is the moment where I go back in time as I lay in bed and relive it.
This is where I alter history.
He asked me if I could just take off my pants, which would leave me naked from the waist down and my t-shirt wrapped around my shoulders. My entire body would be exposed. I protest and say no, but in this new reality he doesn’t drop it and he asks again. He pleads with me to take them off and it will only be a minute. At this point I’m already exposed so much I give in and agree, standing up and taking off my pants and underwear and tossing them on my bed before kneeling back down and continuing.
Back to reality, where my pants are still on and the button is jingling and my erect penis is coming closer and closer to orgasm. It’s been about 40 seconds or so and I feel the wave coming forward to hit me. My body stiffens and I groan while my dick spurts out three ropes of ejaculate onto the floor. Lonnie is impressed.
“Wow, that was fast!”
I only nod and move to pull my shirt back over my head and hide some of myself. After orgasm I had always felt a deep sense of shame. I don’t know why, nobody had ever told me it was wrong and I don’t even recall hearing it, but I felt like I shouldn’t have done it and Lonnie being there only compounded the feeling.
“Wait, before you get dressed, can you do it again?”
“Again?” I asked, wondering what he meant.
I never orgasmed twice. I believe I had tried but I could never do it, so I assumed nobody could.
“Yeah, can you go again?”
I shook my head no.
“Oh, so you can go fast but you can’t do it multiple times?”
“No, just one,” I mumbled shyly.
“Can I try for you?”
This is the other moment where I would alter reality. In reality I say no and get up and clean myself up. Lonnie doesn’t press me for more and the entire experience ends there as he leaves. It really was the end of our friendship even as we didn’t communicate too much more after that. It wasn’t because I was actively avoiding him or anything, he just stopped being so interested in me and my orgasms. He even stopped coming around as much to hang out with my brother, although that might be more because they both graduated high school and moved onto different lives.
But in my alternate reality, the one where I was now pantless and had just orgasmed all over the floor and Lonnie asked if he could do it for me, I was beaten down by his onslaught of begging and pestering and eventually agreed to let him.
“No,” I would say at first, but I would be weakened in spirit from the orgasm.
“Come on. Let me just try and see if I can make you finish again,” he didn’t want to let up.
“No,” I say again, weakly.
“Here, I’ll take off my pants too so we’re even.”
At this point I wouldn’t protest anything he does. In fact, in my alternate reality he would have gotten naked a while ago. I would have protested right at the start and before he even started his E Honda on me he would have offered him getting naked as a way to make me feel more comfortable, that we could stroke together.
But that’s not where we are here. This is Lonnie taking his clothes off and asking me if I would let him stroke my cock to see if he could make it cum again.
Now he’s naked and he tells me to take off my shirt from around my shoulders.
“So we’re even,” he says.
I don’t have the energy to fight his requests or demands anymore and I do what he asks and toss my shirt onto the bed, kneeling naked in front of him as he sits naked on the chair.
He slips from his chair and moves around behind me, no longer asking if he has permission but assuming it from my weak replies. Lonnie kneels with one knee between my legs and the other on the outside, as he reaches around to grab my still deflated penis he pushes his naked waist against my butt and I can feel his dick is hard.
Gripping my flaccid penis he begins to stroke it and pull at it. His hard erection is pressing between my legs and his body is against mine. Heavy breaths are falling from his nostrils onto my shoulders as he jerks me off. I can feel myself getting hard again in his hand and I can feel the tapping of his very hard erection against my skin as he strokes me.
This is where, in my fantasy, in today’s world, I cum. I don’t often make it very far as the arousal has me wild and I cum hard and sink into sleep as I lay in bed. I believe a couple of times I go further, but the entire visual of the scene fades to black and I don’t have much more than this, although I like to think he is overtaken with his arousal and ends up fucking me.
I like to think that with both of us naked he stops stroking me and pushes me forward onto my hands and knees and I meekly, submissively comply. Lonnie, being a seasoned pro at jerking off and knowing what needs to happen when you fuck someone’s asshole, grabs some vaseline from his backpack. It’s almost as if he planned the whole thing to go like this, and he rubs the slick substance along his cock and then over my asshole. I don’t imagine he wastes much time, fearing I’ll get up or beg him to not do it and start crying or something. He would plunge his thick, dark cock into my tight, virgin pink asshole and push until his hips are pressed firm against my milky white cheeks. Then he would fuck me until he shoots his own ropes of sticky, white cum deep into my anus.
I never get this far so I’m not sure what would happen next, whether he would jerk me off while he fucks me and make me cum while his dick was deep inside me or if he would completely forget about my own satisfaction and just use me as a hole for his own gratification. Either way I would love it and be ashamed of it at the same time. It would make me want it again and never again. It would make me realize I’m gay and want to have sex with only men and be ashamed of it and be closeted and seeking out relationships just like this where I’m taken advantage of. It would form an entirely new sexual identity in me all because I agreed to get naked with another boy when we were both teenagers.
But none of the intercourse happened. None of the good stuff. All of the lead up and awkwardness did happen though. It was my first homosexual experience. I think it really did form a part of me though, the bisexual part. I think I really did like it and wanted it. There were numerous times in the future where I experimented safely in the homosexual world.
I spoke with a man on the phone when I was 16 and he was much older. It only went on for a few minutes and I got nervous, but I would love for that one to play out if I hadn’t.
I played around online as if I was bi or gay, having cyber sexual relations with many many men. I was used and shared by dominant men and couldn’t get enough of it. It eventually led me to meeting men in real life in my 30s and finally having sex with them, or being fucked by them more accurately. Everything coming from that encounter as a teenager, letting out all of this sexual frustration inside of me. It’s something I appreciate, even if it did seem like he was pressuring me into doing something I wasn’t sure about. I’m glad he did though because I’m very comfortably bisexual now, even if I’m not out (I’ll get into that at some point I’m sure). So, cheers to the sexual inhibitions that we let go when we’re young. Enjoy being you in all its depth.