The Fresh and Frisky Years: II

This is chapter number II of The Fresh and Frisky Years. If you want to read chapter I (not necessary to understand this one) you can find it here.

I had a boyfriend for a short while, back when I was fifteen. We had been introduced to each other by a mutual friend of ours. The boy who would later become my boyfriend had just moved in to town and didn't know anyone yet. This acquaintance we shared gave him my contact information hoping we would get on well and I would show him the nightlife in my city.

As a young gay boy getting to know someone in the gay scene of the city you're living in is difficult but important. Many people, including myself, find it very hard to go to a bar or club all by themselves and finding someone to go with you to a queer place is not so easy. Most classmates and colleagues will not join you for that.

That's why, once he was finished moving, he contacted me. I didn't really know that many gay people either, so I was happily surprised by his call. Curious what it would bring. We talked for a while before deciding to meet up.

The day of our date, I was standing at the door of the fastfood restaurant where we would come together, ten minutes before the time we had set. I had had two showers, shaved my (almost imaginary) beard, put gel in my hair, perfume on my skin, wore my favourite clothes, had told my mother I was going to meet a friend from school and was pretty damned nervous. I was fifteen, allright?.

Ten minutes of eagerly looking at every young guy coming my way later, the boy arrived.

I found him cute, he was very sweet.

During our first date we did the typical grown up dating kind of things. We went for a drink, had a walk in the park, ate a hamburger... until it was time to go home.

The “good boys dating protocoles” were not finished yet though. He still had to walk me home, thank me for the amazing night he had had and clumsily kiss me goodbye. I remember my heart was beating like crazy while I walked up the stairs of my building. I entered my appartment, kissed my mother on the cheek and then fled into my room to hide my blush.

At this point, when I look back at all those protocoles I used to follow, I realize how ridiculous it is. We had learned this way of dealing with dating from movies I guess. Lately it strikes me how many people in their twenties or thirties, still follow that schedule. If they wouldn't do it, they wouldn't feel whatever is going on between them and their date is justifiable. In the future, when I start writing about sexual moral and freedom, I will devote a full entry to this topic. For now just let me ask you:

Why would we have to go for a drink, a walk and dinner before feeling we can yield to our very natural sexual attraction?

I'll leave this subject for now, and go on with my story.

Of course, we had to have a couple more dates before we could start to touch, feel and grab each other more intimately. It wouldn't have made sense to follow all of the “good boy dating protocoles” concerning first-date-activities and not the ones concerning amount-of-dates-before-sex-is-allowed.

I'll tell you how the first date in which touching was oficially allowed was like.

We were at my appartment, my mother wasn't home. We were lying on my couch, making out for quite a while. Then I (maybe I was young, but it's still me) took his T-shirt off and made him take mine off too.

We kept on kissing for a while, half naked, until I dared to touch his package. It didn't feel that big to me, but I didn't want to judge just yet. I cautiously slipped my hand into his pants and underwear. I was very excited, it would be the fourth dick I'd ever touch (including my own). I had too little experience to know what to expect and was very curious.

I didn't expect it to be totally soft and sticky, but it was.

First thing I did was taking my hand out of this pants, while still kissing him. He was kissing me back. It took me like five minutes of making out to gather the courage to ask him about it.

“Why are you not hard? Do you not like me?” I asked, worried, while sitting on him.
“No. It's just that I already came.”

...

I was confused. This of course explained the stickiness of the domain under his slips but not the rest. How or why he came, how could he not say anything about it was beyond my understanding. Not only did he come by telepathy, he also kept it totally quiet and continued messing with me for who knows how long!.

I was speechless until he broke the silence.

“But if you want, I can still make you come too”

I just stared at him and burst into a laugh because of the whole situation. When I calmed down, I lied down next to him. I started asking him if it had happened to him before, if it was always like this...

The guy answered affirmatively to all of my questions, very calm, without showing any embarrassment.

Needless to say this was our last date. Maybe I could have tried again, have worked it out with him but I guess I just didn't like him enough. I don't feel sorry for it though. After some months I called him again and offered to go out together.

That was the beginning of a very good friendship that lasted for many years.

You can read chapter 3 too if you want.
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