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First Time Fucked


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First Time Fucked

I may have been a late bloomer, but deep down I’ve always known I was a slut. As a kid, I was obsessed with being naked. As I grew older, I suppressed all those feelings and was a bookish kid. At 16, I gave my best friend a blow job (loved the taste of cum) and immediately wanted to get fucked. He wasn’t up for that.

My freshman year of college, I tried to play it straight, but when I fucked my girlfriend, something was wrong. She was neither kinky nor male. (If I was pretty clueless as to what kinky was, I at least knew I was perverted.) So I played around here and there, scared of the cruising spots, at least at first. I used to cruise around the post office late at night and several times blew a hot frat guy a block over in the woods.

One spring I drove several hours to Washington, D.C., telling myself it was all about interviewing for an internship on Capitol Hill. Well, for the past three years I had seen ads in the Washington Post for the follies and other gay clubs on O Street, SE, and as soon as my interview was over, I headed straight for the old naval yard area.

I was so naïve. It was about 3 in the afternoon, not exactly a time when gay places were hopping, and I walked into what looked like a sleazy place I had seen in ads. I paid the $20 fee and was buzzed into a place with plywood walls covered in graffiti depicting gay sex. I saw one guy. “Are you the only one here?” I asked with the callousness of a 20-year-old. He said there was a couple in a cubicle. I decided I hadn’t driven to DC for this. I walked out and, putting on my most altar-boy face, asked for a refund, saying, “I didn’t realise what it was.”

I went to another club and ordered a beer, scared shitless I would run into someone I knew from back home. The bartender tried to be nice to the kid standing there in khakis and a button-down shirt. I went into a theatre area where they had a drag queen doing a little show and porn playing on another screen. A guy sat next to me and touched by leg. I was still scared shitless, although not scared enough to leave. Finally, I saw there was a door into a place called the Maze. I went for a quick round, got felt up and walked out. When I saw nobody seemed to care I had disappeared, I went back to the Maze. I wound to the end, found a dark corner, let a hot blonde guy, probably late 20s, suck me off, and then, like a dog, I was out of there and drove back to my college town.

Later that spring, I was at the end of the town square on a Saturday afternoon and noticed this older guy (all of 35 or so) in a Mustang convertible driving back and forth on the cross street where the post office was. He was clearly cruising, so I finally followed him on foot to a parking space. We exchanged names; I think his was Tim. He asked if I wanted to go for a ride. I hopped in and he drove to the deserted end of a park.

He pushed his seat back and unzipped his jeans. I did the same. He played with my cock a few seconds, but pretty quickly got me to working on his, moving from stroking him to sucking. He pulled out some poppers. “Nothing wrong with these if you don’t do them all the time.” I took two hits and next thing was deep throating him. It didn’t take him too long to shoot. We zipped up and he drove me back to town.

I had a few more furtive encounters sucking guys, yet I still hadn’t been fucked. Once I tried to fuck a guy younger than me when I had the apartment to myself. I think I got in but the encounter was not a huge success.

When graduation came, I was walking with my family to their hotel and saw the guy in the Mustang convertible cruising the same street where he had met just two weeks before. My heart started beating. I nodded. After leaving my parents I walked back to the street and next thing I saw his car pass before he stopped.

“You have a place to go?”

“No,” I replied I replied but I wasn’t about to let this opportunity pass. I was one of those gay church queens and had a key to the parish house of the town church.  At 10 pm on a Saturday night it would be empty. He was game.

So I let ourselves in and we went upstairs in the back wing to the senior high room. I hadn’t really seen him head-on before, but even in the dark I could see he was six feet tall and built like a construction worker, with a slightly rough face from old acne scars. The big belt buckle on his blue jeans and the smell of cigarettes made me think I was with the most masculine guy ever.

We made out a little standing up and then he pushed me down to his crotch. Being the slut I am, I wanted to get naked before doing anything. Instead of guiding me back to his cock, however, he had me on the floor and started jacking my cock so I came quickly. Before I could think, he used his finger to lube my ass with my own cum, put a bottle of Rush under my nose (back when poppers were really good), threw up my legs and thrust his bare cock, about six inches but thick, right in. Soon he exploded up my ass, “Damn,” he said. “I didn’t mean to cum so fast.” He pulled up his pants as I got dressed and gave my ass a nice thank-you slap before we left.

Although I never saw him again, not a week goes by that I don’t think about that first fuck, pretty vanilla by my standards today, but looking back was pretty hot and a good indication that I was destined to be a cum dump.

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