I was just hoping that it wouldn’t hurt. As soon as I realized that I was probably gonna do it one day, when I started feeling like I was the kind of person who would probably like doing it, I was so scared it was going to hurt. It had to hurt. Bad things usually hurt, and it’s literally in the bible not to do it.
Mom would hate that I’d ever even thought of such things. Only sick boys like that. She wouldn’t be shocked though; she’d walked in on me watching a video once. Right as the guy was sliding it in the other guy, eyes rolling back making all kinds of noises, I thought - “I want that.” Then I heard a gasp behind me and it was fucking mom holding my track uniform asking if Coach Moore had mentioned whether or not it could go in the dryer. She looked mad, but also guilty, like maybe she was the one doing something wrong by walking into my room without knocking. I think she’d just wished she hadn’t caught me because then we wouldn’t have had to talk for an hour about “urges and feelings” ending in a nice moment where she put her hand on my knee and whispered (even though we were the only two home) “don’t worry, I won’t tell your father.” I guess I was glad for that, but I’m pretty sure Dad had done it back when he was in the army. I guess it doesn’t count if you do it in the army?
I don’t think he’s done it since the army. If things feel good, you keep doing them, I think. Maybe it’s different when it’s out there, just between bros. But I can’t stop thinking about that guy’s eyes rolling back and how I want that.
This gay bar is really loud. The neon lights pulsating from the floor are making everyone look like music video extras, even the old guys lined up on the barstools against the wall. It’d be easy to go home with one of them and just get it done; they’re probably desperate for it. I’d certainly be less fucking nervous with one of them. But between the old dudes and myself is a sea of bopping men’s bodies, smooth skin pulled tight over muscle and veins, and I can’t deny that’s what I’ve always wanted. I’ve pictured this over and over for years and I’m always with a guy my age who’s a little too attractive for my rank if I’m being realistic. Some guys are only interested in older guys, and I get that, but it’s not me. I’m gonna go into the crowd and start dancing and staring at guys, waiting for one of them to stare back, but first, one more drink.
The guys on the forums had conflicting reports of whether or not it’s better to be drunk for your first time. ManInThecl0set had said “I don’t even count my first time rly because I was so fucking wasted. Went to some strangers place after the club, hardly remember it. Wish I’d made the first one more special.” In contrast, 0penB@ckD00rDude had said “Your first time should be quick, random and dirty. Figure out what you like and save the special ones for later on.” The entire process seemed to be a balance of making this sacred and just getting it the fuck done. However, the forums had offered one piece of advice time and time again; Guyeater212 put it best “do it in the shower, if it gets messy you don’t have to worry about clean up.”
This guy’s apartment is so nice, almost as nice as this guy is hot. This guy (Greg? I’ve had four drinks) is so hot. He’s hot in that conventional way that you could probably call boring, but when he stared back at me in that sea of cologne and vodka, I was shocked. I’d ridden that wave of shock and excitement all the way here to his apartment at 3 A.M. where neither of us is wearing a shirt and I’m so fucking nervous. I want to leave. I’ve spent so much of my life denying that this is okay, that I can be here like this. It doesn’t seem biologically possible for a body to crave something so much and also be so terrified in one single moment. I want to reach out grab Garth (Garth? It’s definitely not Garth) now and hold him so tight to me but I also want to run out the door and spend the rest of my life pretending this side of me doesn’t exist. If I do the later, if I leave now, that will be it. For the rest of my life I’ll be the quiet man who never fully smiles and spends each and every moment just going through the motions. I deserve better. Fuck I hope it doesn’t hurt. “You’ll be nervous, that’s okay, it’s normal. Just try your best to relax and enjoy it.” Thanks HammerBro6.
This shower is really big. I’m realizing I’ve been envisioning this moment in my narrow, single stall shower, which was dumb because the plan was never to bring the guy back to my place. I’m shaking but I think I’m hiding it in the steam and rushing water. I look at Graham (Greg?) and I can tell from the look in his eyes that neither of us are in this shower right now, we’re both picturing us from the outside looking in, this moment is more enjoyed as a movie we are watching somewhere more comfortable, looking like how we want it to look rather than how it actually does. I take a deep breath and the shaking calms, I’m okay. Graham (Grant?) turns around to grab something from the array of products on the rack in the corner. I guess that’s my cue to grab my accoutrements as well? I’d been carrying “protection” around in my pocket for months, never once had I thought to make sure I knew how to use it. I slide open the shower door and breathe, I’d watched the videos over and over, I’ll be fine. I lean out of the door and reach for my pants on the steamy tiles a few feet away.
The blood is really dark. When it first comes out of Grady’s (Grady!) neck it’s thick and opaque. It smears against the wall by the hot water knob and thins out in the water to the bright red you see in a lot of the videos. I’m an idiot and did it from behind, I don’t know if his eyes rolled back and they’re closed when I turn him around. I’m breathing so hard and so fast that I might pass out. I drop the penknife and it lands near the drain, blood and water swirling around it past the still hand a few inches away.
I press my back against the wall opposite Grady. I slide down; we are sitting across from each other. The water keeps rushing over us. I’m breathing so hard. So much of my time has been spent thinking about this. I had half expected the world to shift and melt into something new once it happened. But time and space seem to be remaining constant. I’m still me and I haven’t changed at all. I’m happy with my first time. It went better than some of the ones the guys had posted about. I get now how it’s different than what Dad did in the army. I like how I did it. It didn’t hurt, it felt kinda good.
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