Once upon a time in 1991

There were two of them; Soren and AK. Soren was older, in his early forties, taller and by far the more dominant. AK was younger, perhaps five or six years older than me, slender, and slightly acerbic when he didn’t get his way. Both of them seemed to have a fascination with me that bordered on the obsessive, but given our relationship, I didn’t mind.

I met them through the old telephone chat system which in those days was a sibilant soundscape of sexual desire, men looking women, men looking for men, and sometimes men looking for someone like me. I was looking too but I had no preferences and wasn’t sure what it was I really wanted until it found me.
“Are there any boys on the line?” a male voice had asked. I was s*******n so with my heart beating on my neck, I whispered “yes.”
“How old are you?” he’d asked, and when I replied, he’d rattled off a channel number and put his phone down. Channel numbers were private and only for two callers at the same time, but anyone who was listening could beat me to it. I’d chatted with men before, masturbated whilst they whispered their lust into my ear. I pressed the receiver and redialled as fast as I could.

The first thing he asked was; was I really s*******n and when I affirmed I was, he began to ask the usual questions. What was my name, where did I live, what was I looking for? I had never given out my real name, nor my parent’s telephone number. I had no wish to be exposed as someone who talked to men over the phone at 2 am. I expected the conversation to run the same course as the previous handful of such calls I’d made and I was not disappointed, soon the voice began to ask what I was wearing and what I was doing to myself. I answered these questions truthfully since this was the point of the conversation. At some point I became aware of another person on the line for I could hear breathing, even as the voice spoke. This didn’t bother me. I was already hard and my fingers were slippery with the pre-cum that was flowing freely.

“You sound like a right little virgin” the voice purred.
“I am” I replied softly.
“I knew it” he laughed in a knowing way that sent a shiver through me. I came just at the obvious sound of his experience. He merely listened to me as I did.

Usually at that point, I would suddenly get cold feet and put the phone down, but this time I didn’t. I listened to the soft static of the open line as I wiped the cum away on a towel I had between my thighs. Eventually he spoke again.
“If you want something real…” he said then gave me a telephone number. I paused then thought it wouldn’t hurt to write it down. I asked him to wait whilst I got something to write with.

It took me two weeks to work up the courage to call the number but he knew who I was the moment I spoke.
“Yes, I remember you”. I could hear him smile as he spoke. “The virgin.”
We didn’t speak for long, and it seemed evident he expected me to make the next move. He told me he was called Soren, gave me his home address and a date, several days hence.
“Any time after eight” he said.

I showered, dressed down, but in new clothing, took the bus into the city and walked to the address. It was easy to find. It was right next to the botanical gardens. His building was on a steep incline. I sauntered along the pavement reading the numbers until I came to the top where his home was. He lived right on the top floor. His name was written by itself. He lived alone. I stood staring at the intercom for a long time, my hands in my pockets, my palms moist with sweat.
When I saw two young women coming up the hill towards me, I felt a wave of anxiety sweep over me and pressed the button. There was no answer. The door merely buzzed and I pushed my way inside.

Each level had only one door. Soren lived on the fifth and I noted that the fourth had a company plaque which bore his name. Since this building was at the top of the hill, I realized Soren had no neighbours.
His door stood open allowing the liquid rhythm of a jazz record to filter down the stairs. Inside, I found Soren and AK sitting on a futon, drinking red wine and watching the television. Soren introduced AK as a friend. Both men examined me with knowing eyes.
“I wasn’t convinced you’d come at all” he said. He offered me a glass of wine.

I had often imagined how meeting another man would be, wondered what I would feel, if I would find him attractive or not. I had no basis for comparison, most of the time I was attracted to girls and felt nothing for men. Whatever it was that motivated this side of my sexuality didn’t seem to care about individuals, it was only the experience that pulled at me. When I looked at Soren, I felt nothing much except intense excitement and some trepidation. AK barely registered.

I hadn’t really known what to expect but I was unsurprised when they suggested going out. I knew I was being evaluated, but I could also see the greed in their eyes. I went along with their suggestion and as the night progressed I let myself be led through a series of bars, clubs and dance halls. About half way through this, I found myself being casually introduced to various strangers and I realised I was also being shown off. One man in particular, a large African with a broad smile, seemed to approve of my presence. He squeezed in to sit beside me in a booth and for several minutes, chatted with Soren and AK whilst his hand rested on my thigh.

AK left us sometime around midnight. One minute we were walking through a crowded room and the next he was waving good bye as he left with some friends he’d met. Soren ordered us another pair of drinks and asked if I wished to return to his place and smoke a joint. I was already slightly d***k. I said yes.

“You’ve never even kissed a man have you” he said as we reached the street door of his building. It wasn’t a question.
“No” I replied.
“No. You’re not that type”.
We walked up the stairs, past the silent smells of other people’s homes and past his company door. I wondered briefly what it was he did behind the old green and grey painted door. The sound of his keys in his front door was loud and obtrusive. If I enter this apartment again, I thought. I’m tacitly agreeing to something which I may regret. I didn’t hesitate though. I followed him in and gave him my jacket when he offered to hang it up.
“Is there anyone expecting you home tonight?” he asked. I shook my head. My parents thought I was with friends, but they weren’t prone to asking questions either.
He put the pick up back in the groove on the jazz record, turned the volume down, then sat on his couch and lit a joint. I sat on an arm chair and watched him. I’d smoked hashish from a pipe, but I’d never seen a real joint before. I asked him what the difference was and he visibly relaxed as he explained.

Soren was tall, lean and he had a strong broad forehead. His eyes were dark and never stopped watching the world around him. It seemed to me like he was always in control of what ever took place around him and that he regarded me as something interesting but not unusual that had come his way. I tried to look at his face and find something appealing in it, but I couldn’t. There wasn’t really anything about his appearance that made any impact on me. It was his manner that an impact. His calm understated masculinity.

Eventually, after he’d put on a new jazz record, we’d shared two of his joints and I was feeling extremely relaxed, he opened his trousers with compelling composure and pulled out his cock. I knew he would and my own erection was already pressing against my jeans as he began to stroke himself. He didn’t say anything, but the suggestion was evident in his eyes. After a few dry mouthed moments, I moved down to my knees and shuffled closer. My head was swimming from the alcohol and marijuana but I felt the texture of the floor on my knees and each movement of my body as though my nerves had been set to a higher level of perception. He watched me move closer, my eyes on his erection, his eyes on mine. I felt his fingers in my hair even as I opened my mouth.

I couldn’t help myself. As he pushed my head on to his cock, I was fumbling at my crotch, opening my trousers with shaking fingers that quickly became slippery as the first surge of cum erupted from me.

He kept my mouth on him as I came, holding me in place whilst my body shuddered and jerked. Whilst I was near helpless with convulsions, he remained calm, even somewhat detached. I would later learn that Soren always withdrew into himself when he was stoned, but on that first night, I assumed he was merely being patience with me. In fact he probably was, but I was mistaken if I thought he wasn’t aroused. I discovered this abruptly when I my orgasm had passed and holding my head in both his hands, he began to slide his cock deeper into my mouth. Looking up at him, I could see he had thrown his head back and he was devoting all his attention to the sensation of violating my mouth.
I found I was still hard so I carefully stroked myself whilst he used me.

From the smell and taste of my own cock, his taste was almost exactly how I’d imagined it, but there was an added frisson that I had never before felt. There was a sensation of surrender that was similar to the emotions I’d experienced whilst on the telephone chat system, only now it was over powering. I felt dominated and in my surrender I found a deeper pleasure than anything I’d felt whispering into the telephone. Would I ever be able to look at a girl as I’d done before I wondered?
This feeling of sexual abdication seemed to grow as his hoarse breathing began to increase in volume, and when he suddenly flexed his body and flooded my mouth with warm salty cum, I felt my own body tighten in accord and a similar hot flow of sperm erupted from my body.

I slid to the floor and lay there for a while whilst the room spun about me. The taste in my mouth burned the back of my throat, but I was so high I didn’t care at all. Soren stood up and stepped over me. He pulled off the rest of his clothing and then turned his attention to the record player. I had never much cared for Jazz, but I knew now that I’d never be able to listen to this type of music without remember what had happened to me.
The room continued to spin about me as a soft, slowly played saxophone pulled off my clothes.

Soren’s bed was the sort of Japanese futon that were so popular in those days. It was low to the floor and had a firm solidity to it. I found myself lying naked on it, with my legs spread wide. I could feel Soren’s fingers exploring me. On the wall, staring at me, was a huge poster of Marilyn Monroe. I stared back at her whilst a wet finger probed against my anus.
“Still with me?” he asked.
I didn’t want to say anything which might break the spell so I didn’t react, but he saw enough for me to hear his smile.
“That’s nice isn’t it?”
His finger was now pressing slowly into me, twisting as it penetrated the muscle which twitched and clenched spasmodically.
I nodded, breathing deeper. Below me, I could feel my penis, pressed flat against my belly, was soaked. An abstract train of thought moved independently through my brain and I wondered if the moisture would leave a stain on his futon. I didn’t care though. His finger was pulling out now and the feeling was intense.

I heard the snap of a lighter and the intake of breath as he lit another joint. I looked back over my shoulder at him. He was kneeling behind me with the joint in one hand a condom in the other. I turned my face back to the poster of Marilyn and waited. He passed me the joint and I propped myself up on my elbows. I was eager to feel him entering me again, but I was shaking with a nervous anticipation so intense that I was light headed even before I sucked in the smoke of the marijuana.
The room began to vibrate as the d**g entered my bl**d stream. I felt hornier than I’d ever felt before. When he began to rub some kind of cool lubricant on to me, I gasped and felt my lower abdomen press itself up from the bed in an involuntary invitation.

“I have you” he said softly. His hands caressed and kneaded my buttocks and I felt his weight shifting around me. The intrusion, when it came, began gently at first, pushing slowly then pausing. I began by holding my breath, but he took his time and I found myself relaxing despite my nervousness.

My sense of time had contracted to the very present and though I felt every moment of the long entry, I felt no great passage of time before I realised he had pushed his entire length into me. His body was held erect over mine, his arms on either side of my head. He began to pull back and a cry of pleasure escaped from my lips.
“This was what you wanted isn’t it?” he said as he pressed back into me, “you little slut“.
“Yes” I moaned helplessly.




100% (7/0)
 
Categories: First TimeGay Male
Posted by Ijhel
2 years ago    Views: 419
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2 years ago
FUCK...that was HOTTT
2 years ago
If the muse returns perhaps
2 years ago
Nice..... continuation?