Reluctant gay stories
Do you remember your first time? Your first encounter with another guy? Your first story with another gay guy?
It's that first moment of total pleasure when everything else disappears, and those weird “feelings” suddenly make complete perception. Suddenly, everything falls into place: you're not a freak of nature or “different”, simply experiencing the simple joys that you were born to enjoy.
For most gay guys, our first gay experience is usually a moment of revelation and clarity that eventually leads to our own acceptance and the urge to tell the world. For others, it's a complete disaster that we prefer to forget… although one thing's for sure, you will never truly forget it!
In this post, we asked a few of our friends from around the earth to share their first gay experience with us, whether it was a first-time gay kıss, their first gay love story, or something a bit more spicy(!)… and we've set it all out right here. You'll also want to check out our own love story of how we first met each other.
We'd like to know your story as well! Please experience free to add it in the comments section below. We also divide more inspirin
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20.And this super sexy serenade that led to a series of hookups:
"Four years ago, my foremost friend and I were hanging in my house and playing Borderlands. I had recently peruse online about the 'I have a CRUSH on you' achievement, and consideration it would be easy enough to do. When I asked him to help me with it, he turned a vibrant shade of red. After teasing him a little, I asked him if something was wrong. He then not only came out to me, but confessed that he had a crush on me. I was a little shocked, but I told him, 'Wow. One: I should hold known, considering you have the entire musical Wicked memorized. Two: You really have poor appetite in men.'
"He playfully pushed me over and straddled me, saying 'While both are accurate , remember I'm the same guy; I can still strike your scrawny ass.' We laughed, until I realized we were making dick-to-dick contact through our athletic shorts. I got hard, he got hard, we both got hella embarrassed. He took a deep breath, leaned in and started singing a song I now know as 'Dead Girl Walking.' When I tried to squirm away he leaned in and kissed me.
"After the kiss, and once he got to a particular line, 'I've decided I must travel you till I break yo
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I’ve always been gay, but I’ve never been overtly effeminate. Coming from a family of several positive male role models, I never had to hide who I was, so I never did.
Like everyone, I had heard the stories about men being “turned out” in prison. As I was being booked into Orleans Parish Prison in November of 2004, I realized I was a target.
During the processing I was placed in a holding cell with nearly fifty other prisoners.
I was terrified going into the cell. So I found a quiet notice on the floor in the corner. I sat with my knees in and my arms folded with my head down, so I’m not sure how they knew I was gay. Still, a man sat next to me and put his arm around me. I attempted to spring up but another man stood over me and forcefully pushed me back down by my shoulders.
“You ain’t fighting back, is you, sweetness?” he said. I looked at him in horror as tears welled up in my eyes. The man who was standing exposed himself while the other aggressively forced me to give his friend oral sex. Out of fear, I performed oral sex on them both. Even with several people in the cell, no one said or did anything. I don’t know why I expected them to do anything.
I
Dad died when I was six. The rabbi who lived in the apartment below took over for him. I’m sure he wanted to do Mom. They packed us off to an evil Hasidic summer camp where everyone made fun of us because we didn’t know their crazy prayers. My brother was four. We would secretly meet in the woods, hug each other and sob. We couldn’t realize why our father died and our mother sent us to this terrible place. I learned to hate all religion and still do.
Mom was a dark-haired, curvaceous looker, juicy, and in her prime. She liked sex but decided that all men had to pay for it. The butcher brought steaks; the florist, flowers; the bagel man left fresh hot steaming bagels by our door every morning for months. Leon, the ice cream man left ice cream. My younger brother and I were posthaste dispatched to acquire the stuff into the house, so they couldn’t notice Mom. And not to forget Abe, the jeweler, who brought, well, jewels. They all tried to get inside. Some did. When Mom met the dude who brought it all, she married him.
We lived in Borough Park, in Brooklyn. Until I ran away, I thought everyone in the world was either Jewish or Italian. I was intimidated by all the dark, Brooklyn-rough I