I was sucking Clay's cock when he asked me again.

'When are you going to let me fuck you?'

It made me pause for a second, just kneeling there between his legs, his condom-wrapped rod in my mouth.

'Oh, don't stop, man.' he said. I laughed, wondering how I was going to answer his question and continue to orally stimulate him at the same time. But I knew Clay -- he didn't want an immediate answer, he just wanted to plant the seed of the question in my mind.


Come to think of it, that wasn't the only seed he wanted to plant in me.

I continued sucking his cock, and his head tilted back in ecstasy. A few seconds later he came, the orgasm marked by his moan of pleasure and the load of spunk caught by the condom.

Maybe he figured if he just kept asking to fuck me I'd give in. I wasn't trying to be a cocktease, but the truth was I'd never been fucked before -- when I did, I wanted to be sure it was the right time and the right man. This latest inquiry reminded me of the first time he'd asked me...

Clay had been patient with me, but I could tell he was getting anxious. Kissing and hugging and holding each other had progressed to cock-sucking and rimming...the only thing we hadn't done was the actual act of anal sex.

Soon enough, he asked if he could fuck me.

It was hard to say no to him. He was so handsome, a big sexy guy with a warm smile and a wicked grin. I loved his hair, dark blond, separated in the middle into bangs that were always getting in his eyes.

We were kissing that night, the first time he asked me.

'I want to make love to you...' he whispered.

'You are.' I answered breathlessly.

'I know, but I want more, I want to make love to you in that special way -- I want to put my dick inside you...'

'But Clay, I've never been fucked before.' I said.

'I know,' he answered, 'that makes me want you even more.'

He put his face between my legs and it felt wonderful. His soft mouth gently caressed my sensitive balls, then his warm tongue played with my asshole, teasing, pushing inside just a little. The sensation was incredible, heady with the promise of sensations to come if I actually let him make love to me the way he wanted to, with his cock in my ass.

'Come on, sport,' Clay said another time, in that milk-and-honey voice that made me swoon. 'Please let me do you.'

'I don't know if I'm ready yet, Clay.'

We were cuddling on the couch in his apartment. I felt very safe when his big strong arms were around me, like they were then.

'It'll be great, James.' he said, squeezing me. 'It's no big deal, you'll love it.'

'I know I will.' I said, closing my eyes and snuggling against him. 'As soon as I'm ready, you'll be the first to know.'

'Whatever you say, sport.' he said. 'You let me know.' He pressed his crotch against my butt, and even through the layers of fabric, I could feel how hard he was.

I drifted into sleep easily, with no worries. I knew he wouldn't take me until I said it was time.

My friends were encouraging, but told me only I could make the decision. After spending several days thinking about the question Do I want Clay to be the first to make love to me in that way? or simply Do I want him to fuck me? I came to my decision.

Clay was the man.

And now was the time.

I wanted to give myself to him, I wanted to bond with him in that most intimate way, I wanted him to know and explore my secret places...

I loved him.

Well, I loved him as much as any twenty-one year old, newly out of the closet could. Realizing I was gay was like being a kid again -- everything was shiny and new and exciting...especially this big handsome man I met at a former trick's party. I had been watching him all night. I loved his casual masculinity, the way he pushed locks of hair up and off of his forehead, the way he embraced friends and acquaintances alike with a sexy charm all his own.

He was probably 6'2' and 230 pounds, muscular but not too buffed, with twinkly light-blue eyes, golden brown hair and a smile for everyone. He was dressed casually with jeans, tennis shoes and a sleeveless T-shirt that showed off his arms.

I caught him looking my way more than once. My former trick, Benny, who had become my friend, saw what was happening and introduced me to the gentle giant of a man.

'My name is James.' I said to him, sticking out my hand. I hoped its' trembling wasn't noticeable. He gave me a big smile and took my hand, shaking it firmly.

'I'm Clay Donner.' he said.

We started talking and the party went on all around us, as if we were somehow alone together, even within this big group of people. As time moved on we found ourselves standing closer and closer together until we were hugging each other tight, like lovers would. When the party was finally breaking up, Benny was cool enough not to separate us. After all, we were both his friends, he must've felt some responsibility for us. In any case, he ushered us into his guest bedroom for the night, and then we really were alone together.

Clay and I didn't do much more than kiss that night in bed, cuddling and hugging on top of the covers. We had only known each other a few hours, but I was young and stupid -- and idealistic. I asked Clay if he would be my boyfriend. He paused before answering, a pause that held within it everything that was to come, but he said yes. Casually, but he did say yes.

And that was how it began.

Several months later I was ready to be fucked, for the first time, and I wanted him to be the man who did it. I got out of the shower and called him. When he answered I simply said: 'I'm ready', and he said 'Come over right now.'

I obeyed, and half an hour later I was standing at his door. The sun was shining and a fan was blowing in his apartment. Clay came to the door and opened it, smiling at the sight of me standing there in my shorts and tank-top. He grabbed my hand and pulled me inside.

It smelled very nice, like freshly cut grass with a hint of incense maybe. Airy and open, nice and cool. He shut the door behind me and closed the blinds, dividing the sunlight into slashes of light across the wall. Clay stood in front of me, looking at me full on, his eyes holding mine.

In his pale blue eyes I saw desire, hunger, maybe even the beginning of love...? His locked gaze was intoxicating me, taking me on a journey: I saw crystalline oceans, mountains of fire, valleys of sand...I was losing myself in his eyes. I felt naked in front of him, completely exposed and utterly vulnerable. Letting the feelings wash over me, I fought the instinct to resist, quieting my mind with trust and faith in the man in front of me. I knew he wouldn't hurt me or take advantage of me, that he was only thinking of me and the pleasure we could have together.

Dust drifted lazily in the beams of light coming between the blinds. There was no other place I'd rather be.

Clay pulled me close and kissed me. His tongue caressed my lips and then probed inward, running all around the inside of my mouth, feeling my gums and my teeth, all the secret places inside my mouth. Within me were flames. My heart and soul were swimming in passion and desire. We touched each other within our mouths, performing a gentle dance of excitement and exploration with our tongues.

Then he was kneeling down, lower and lower until he was on his knees in front of me. With his big hands he loosened my shorts, unzipping them, pulling them down and as he did my cock plunged upward, free and open in the air.

I closed my eyes when I felt his hands sliding up and down my legs. Suddenly he lunged forward and his mouth was on my balls, kissing them and licking them. And then he touched me there, in the secret place between my legs. He took my penis in his hand and it felt so good, better than anything I'd ever felt before...until the feeling intensified and I realized my cock was in his mouth.

He had taken me inside him silently and now was sucking me, letting it slip almost out before going down once again. His hand joined his mouth and together they massaged and caressed me. First his fingers, then his tongue, then his whole hand, the sensations escalating, each better than the last. I could feel his mouth leaving a sheen of moisture on my penis, like a dusting of dew after a spring night.

My hands were in his hair, running through it gently, and it felt wonderfully soft and tingly. When he stopped working me with his mouth and hands he hugged my legs with both strong arms. I saw one bicep ripple as he tightened his grip and I fell slowly forward over his back. Putting myself in this vulnerable position, I trusted him completely.

My man stood up, easily lifting both himself and me up into the air. Pulling my shorts off, he let them fall to the floor. Clay carried me over his shoulder out of the living room, down the hallway into his bedroom. Closing the door behind us, he gently lay me down on his bed.

The lights were off, and daylight spilled in from the window. A fan was humming and I felt so good and calm and relaxed. Clay's hands run all over me and then he removed the rest of my clothing piece by piece, gently, without hurry. First my shoes and socks, then my shirt, and I was totally naked, on my back.

At the foot of the bed, he took off his own clothes, his eyes never leaving mine. It was like being hypnotized, I was so captivated by him. I was a little scared, but he had done so much to put me at ease I let the fear drift away, the dust in a sunbeam. When Clay was naked, I stared at him, enthralled as always by his body's beauty and strength.

His veiny arms with their big rounded biceps, his bodybuilder's chest with big quarter-sized nipples, his visible abs adding contour and shape to his stomach, and his long legs with muscular calves, all creating a stunning man.

And of course, his cock, which was probably eight or nine inches long, already half-erect, proud and strong.

Clay walked over to his stereo and slipped in a CD. The familiar sound of one of my favorite albums poured out of the speakers, the music putting me even more at ease.

Then my man crawled onto the bed. The sight of his penis was mesmerizing, as if it were awake and alive and stretching toward me, hungry for me. Clay breathed in big, heavy breaths as he pulled a condom package out of the box on his night stand. He opened it with his teeth and slipped the latex sheath over his penis, protecting him from me, or I from him, or maybe both. Then he took a bottle of lube and squirted some into his hand, which he used to coat his condom-covered cock. The whole time he did this he was moving, slowly, sensually, almost to the music. It was wonderful to watch.

When he was done he pulled me down to the foot of the bed and lifted my legs up on his shoulders, so that my asshole lined up with his cock. I felt his hand on my anus and it was warm and soft. He rubbed lube over the entrance and then moved forward, and I felt his hard penis against my tight hole.

Over the next fifteen minutes Clay rubbed his cock up and down my ass-crack. With each pass I got more and more relaxed, with each pass my hole opened more and more to him.

When he finally sensed I was ready, he worked his way in, very gently. It felt totally bizarre, unlike anything I'd ever experienced. And it hurt, even with the lubrication. But somehow it was wonderful at the same time. I felt like I was stepping over a threshold, like I was changing from a boy to a man. It was like an initiation, a rite of passage, as I was stripped of my virginity by an older, more experienced man.

He worked with me for a long time until his whole cock was completely inside. The feeling of fullness was strange, yet it felt right, somehow, like this was the way it was supposed to be.

Clay had earned the right to take me, to fuck my asshole, to go where no man had been yet, my most secret place. I gave myself to him utterly, groaning and growling in lust.

That was when he started actually fucking me.

I couldn't believe the sensations that started rushing through me. Somehow I had the presence of mind to grab my legs and full them up and away from him to give him best access to my asshole. Bursts of pleasure bloomed in my brain, and when I shut my eyes I saw great glowing auras and rainbow-sparkling stars. I wondered if I was giving him as much pleasure as he was giving me. Somehow I knew he was.

Clay threw himself down on top of me, encircling me with his strong arms and crushing our bodies together. I felt the air in my lungs whoosh out as I lost my breath. He was fucking me harder now, and I knew were as close as was physically possible, that it didn't get better than this.

He started kissing me and I knew I couldn't take much more of this. My own cock, hard since I'd first arrived, was pleading for attention between my legs. I was going to come, and right away. He kissed me and kissed me, and the combination of feelings and sensations made my brain feel like it was overloading.

Clay and I moaned together and my countdown had begun:

10 his arms around me

9 his lips and tongue all over my neck and mouth

8 his strong legs tensed and corded

7 my own hands reaching up and around touching his hair

6 his waist and its thrusting

5 his dick completely out of sight inside me

4 our eyes closed as we move as one

3 I belong to him and the music plays

2 whisper in my ear 'Come with me, come fly with me...'

1 come with me


I hit my climax, squirting a big load of spunk all over both of us. Orgasm roared through me, blocking out everything -- I couldn't see, couldn't speak, couldn't move, all I could do was lay there and experience it as it coursed through every vein in my body, finding every secret place and filling it with joy. Above me Clay grunted as he hugged me tight -- I knew his own orgasm was splashing through him as he emptied his load of come into the condom.

He collapsed on top of me, our sweat mingling together as the smell of our seed filled our nostrils. Just as I thought Don't let this end the orgasm began to subside, and soon we fell asleep in each other's arms, holding tightly as if never wanting to let go.

But a few months later, Clay and I broke up. He was moving to Chicago, and I wanted to stay in L.A. But even if he hadn't been moving, I got the feeling he wanted to call it quits. It had been a whim, after all, us getting together. We could break it off just as easily.

At least he could.

But what about me? Didn't what happen between us bond us in some way? Shouldn't we try to work this out? He'd taken me, popped my cherry, deflowered me, fucked me good and hard and long like a real man does, for the first time.

Wasn't that worth something? Anything?

On our last night together he took me out to dinner. I didn't cry right then and there, but I was hurting badly. Afterwards when he dropped me off at my apartment, I felt like I had to do something, somehow try to save what we had. I ran around to the driver's side of the car and he rolled the window down.

'I...I think I love you, Clay.' I said. He put his hand on my shoulder and smiled at me.

'I think I love you too, sport.' he said.

But before I could ask Then why are we breaking up? he was gone. As his car turned a corner out of eyesight I knew I'd never see him again.

And even though some part of me wanted to cry, the rest of me was filled with excitement and anticipation. It was like I had passed a test -- I'd been fucked, truly made love to, opened, broken, taken.

And I was stronger now.

My secret places had been found by another man -- found, explored, exposed to light. But I didn't feel used or mistreated, instead I felt empowered, confident, ready for what the rest of my life had to offer.

I was a man at last, and knew that the best was yet to come.



Christopher Pierce

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