The Underground Railroad

by Tradd St. Croix

3 Apr 2018 1806 readers Score 9.1 (63 votes) PDF Mobi ePub Txt


Part One: Welcome to Sex Therapy

Doorbell rings.

Susan:   Hey David. Come on in.

David:   Thanks.

Susan:   Please. Have a seat. Let’s just start by talking. OK?

David:   Sure.

Susan:   Can I get you anything to drink? Water? Soda?

David:   No, really. I’m fine.

Susan:   Do you know why you are here?

David:   No. Not really.

Susan:   What do you THINK you are here for?

David:   I don’t know. To fuck you maybe?

Susan:   Well, sex therapy can lead to intercourse. But that’s not the primary reason. What are you hoping to get out of this?

David:   I just want to be happy, and I don’t want my parents to cut me off. I have two more years of college. I’m making decent grades, but it’s a struggle. I have friends who need to work to pay for school, and it’s rough. I’m afraid if I lose my parents’ financial support, I might not make it to graduation.

Susan:   Sounds like you feel trapped.

David:   Hijacked would be a more accurate term.

Susan:   I see. Well, I’ve read your file from Dr. Hendrick. He seems pleased with your progress, which is why he has brought me in to be a part of your treatment.

David:   This is all just so fucked up.

Susan:   What do you mean by that?

David:   Before I answer that, am I being recorded?

Susan:   No. But I do prepare a written report and relay that back to Dr. Hendrick as your primary mental health care professional.

David:   He seems more concerned with my parents’ mental health than mine. His concern is that they feel good about their son, not that their son feels good about himself.

Susan:   You aren’t even speaking in the first person. That indicates you are detached from the process.

David:   Ya think?

Susan:   Do you want to be heterosexual?

David:   I want to be a college graduate, and if that means I am heterosexual enough for bank transfers from my parents, then yes, I want to be heterosexual.

Susan:   Your file says you are not sexually active. You are a strappingly handsome young man. Surely, you have had the opportunity to have sex. Is the file accurate?

David:   Yes. I grew up in a very conservative church, and it is hard to shake the shame that’s baked into you after years of youth group, chastity promises, images of defiling the temple of your body, and so on and so on. We are just supposed to sit around and wait while the semen builds up faster than we can whack it out. Meanwhile, all these pastors were married when they were my age. I can barely get through college WITH my parents help, much less support a wife, a kid, a house, a dog, and the whole white-picket fence bullshit they shove down your throat.

Susan:   So, from a religious perspective, your parents would support you being chaste, and seemingly you are. So, what’s the problem?

David:   I’m the only son of three children. I’m the great white hope to carry on the family name. They want grandchildren. They want a legacy. And somehow the fact that my older sister is pumping out kids left and right isn’t enough because they don’t bare the family name. In case you haven’t figured this all out, none of this is about me. It’s all about them. I’m sure this little get together here isn’t cheap. And they are forking over a shit-ton of money to fix me, and their desperation is just adding to my stress and pressure.

Susan:   Why do they think there’s a problem?

David:   I’ve never been interested in girls. And with every passing year, they are doing the math and they don’t like the way they think the equation is turning out.

Susan:   So, are you gay?

David:   I’m celibate.

Susan:   That has nothing to do with sexual attraction or orientation.

David:   What do you want me to say?

Susan:   I’m just here to help you get better. What better means is up to you.

David:   Really? That’s the first time I’ve heard that. Better, in this whole fiasco, is what my parents say better is. They are paying for what they think better is. I’m a non-entity in this game.

Susan:   Do you think Dr. Hendrick is pressuring you one way or another?

David:   No. I don’t think he is. I know he is. Have you read his website? I mean, this is “Christ-centered” conversion therapy straight up. He’s not paid by parents to help their children embrace their inner-rainbow. How long have you worked with this guy?

Susan:   Long enough.

David:   What do we need to do to get you to write a good report back to Dr. Hendrick so I can keep my tuition bill paid?

Susan:   You need to tell me what you want.

David:   I want to be left alone to discover my own path, in my own way, in my own time without all this psycho-babble bullshit pressuring me to fuck some woman just to relieve my parents’ gay panic issues.

Susan:   Good. That’s a very articulate start. I can’t speak for your parents or Dr. Hendrick. But I’m good with that answer. So, what would help you discover that path?

David:   Less stress. Less having to worry if I’m going to get cut off. Less having to prove something to my parents that I’m not really sure about myself.

Susan:   What is it you’re not sure about?

David:   Wanting the life they think I should aspire to.

Susan:   What in your mind makes you not want that?

David:   I look at them, and they aren’t happy. I just don’t want to be like that.

Susan:   That’s not an uncommon feeling for people your age. So, what do you want to aspire to?

David:   I want a relationship. I want to have sex. I just don’t want to be put in a situation where I either have to wait until after graduation or lose everything.

Susan:   So, would dating a woman cause you to lose everything?

David:   Oh hell no. As much as my parents are super religious, if I went home right now and told my dad I had sex with a girl from school, he would bust a gut with joy. I could tell him she didn’t mean anything to me, and I just fucked her for the hell of it, and he would still grin from ear to ear. They are such hypocrites. It isn’t about purity or being Godly. They just don’t want a fag for a son.

Susan:   So, is that how you see yourself? A fag?

David:   Everything I’ve been taught tells me that is how I should feel. But honestly, I don’t see anything wrong or evil about me. I’m not hurting anyone. I’m not telling God to fuck off. I’m not raping anyone. I’m not leading anybody on. I’m just me. And frankly, all this therapy is about turning my life around, but I’m not really upset with the direction I’m heading in. My guilt, if I have any, is that I don’t feel guilty about who I am.

Susan:   So, why not just tell your dad you had sex with a girl?

David:   Simple. I want my parents to love me, not their fantasy about me.

Susan:   Touché. Do you really want your parents love, or just their college money?

David:   Honestly, both. But right now, if I was forced to choose, I’d take the money.

Susan:   If the money is more important, then why not just lie?

David:   Call me an optimist, but I’m holding out for the chance at both. But frankly, I see your point, and I can see that I may be faced with that choice sooner rather than later.

Susan:   So, are you gay?

David:   Seriously? Are you just trying to get me to say it?

Susan:   I am being serious. And presumption is a negative quality in my profession. I’m asking honestly because I want to address you as you, not as some list of assumptions formed by your parents’ money and family aspirations.

David:   Yes. Of course, I’m gay.

Part Two: The Underground Railroad

Susan:   Great. So, you’re gay, you’re celibate, you’re jumping through hoops like a circus poodle to keep your parents’ money flowing, and you’re still in college. You just want fewer hoops and a shot at a relationship on your own terms.

David:   Pretty much. But…OK…I’m confused. You seem supportive, but you are working with a notorious conversion-therapy doctor. What’s the deal?

Susan:   Dr. Hendrick sees the world through a certain lens. I understand where he is coming from. He thinks he is actually helping people. And for some of his patients, they share his world view so deeply, they genuinely think he is healing them from some great sickness. Religion is a tricky thing when it comes to mental health. And what may make sense to people outside the religion may not actually be the best approach for those within it. I have seen men who so desperately want to be straight, that if they don’t achieve it, they would likely kill themselves. In general, fighting your actual sexual orientation tends to lead to depression, and that depression is alleviated when the patient comes to accept their true selves. But for some people, the equation isn’t so clear.

David:   So, have you ever actually converted anyone?

Susan:   That’s highly debatable. And I don’t know if I have a real answer to the question. I do believe I have helped some people be more of what they think they want for themselves, and in doing so might have helped them, at least in the short-term. And if someone lives through the short-term, that at least gives them the opportunity to discover their true selves in the long-term. Like a lot of things in life, some answers are not obvious. I’m conflicted about some of Dr. Hendrick’s patients.

David:   If Dr. Hendrick is so “Christ-centered” in his practice, why does he use a sex therapist?

Susan:   Dr. Hendrick is no fool. He sees the failure rate of conversion therapy, and he is hyper-competitive. He wants to be the doctor that actually turns them. He wants to be the savior who plucks them from the eternal flames of hell. He wants success stories. If you want a gay man to swim in the heterosexual pool, ya gotta send them to swim lessons first. None of this comes naturally for them, and as such, a coach is an absolute must.

David:   Could you convert me?

Susan:   No. Because you don’t want it. Your level of self-awareness is too high. Plus, your mind is already made up. The only issue for you is getting your body and your social and familial context to catch up.

David:   Well, how do I do that without losing college?

Susan:   Deception. At least in the short-term.

David:   OK. I’m listening.

Susan:   You’ve heard of the underground railroad, right?

David:   I’m a history major. So, yeah.

Susan:   Well, I’m a modern-day Harriet Tubman for young gay kids being forced into conversion therapy. For the ones that actually want conversion therapy to work, I give them the tools to continue in their own self-deception. Their success, temporary as it may be, provides cover for the rest of my mission. Yes, I feel guilty about the fact that some of these men go out and marry unsuspecting women, have children, and then either come out or blow their heads off in the backyard. I know that some of what I do has caused irreparable pain. But most of those situations would have likely ended in tragedy with or without me. And for the rest of you, I help you find the space to grow into the people you really are.

David:   How is this going to work?

Susan:   As long as we can get Dr. Hendrick to continue referring you to me, you will keep showing up. While you are here, you will be in group therapy with other young men in your same situation under the guidance of a real therapist who isn’t trying to force you into a predetermined mold. During that time, I write a false report about your progress and/or regression. You are informed of it so that when you are in therapy with Dr. Hendrick, you don’t bring up conflicting information. The act of continuing your therapy with Dr. Hendrick is regressive, and even somewhat harmful. But think of it as a stage play you are putting on for college money.

David:   I guess the only other options are to get on board with my parents’ agenda, come out and suffer the consequences, or continue to be miserable. So, this means I am going to meet other gay men who are going through the same thing I am and nobody’s going to find out about it?

Susan:   That’s the plan. It doesn’t always work perfectly. But, the point is to give you enough hope until you can stand on your own and have a positive, working self-identity.

David:   No offense Susan, you’re pretty and all, but you have no idea how relieved I am to know I don’t have to fuck you.

Susan:   Yeah, yeah. That’s what all the gay boys say.

Part Three: Tossing and Turning

Susan briefed me on her report to Dr. Hendrick. It was full of technical terms I didn’t understand, but mostly outlined that we just talked. She told me to just tell him I got her up to speed on the progress of my therapy and the situation in general.

That night, I went to bed hopeful for the first time in ages. I was scared. I was afraid of getting caught in the deception. I was afraid of what would happen to Susan if I slipped. I knew if I could just stand the misery for another two years, I could probably string out this whole charade through graduation. But the idea of two more years of this shit was more than I could bare. I found a way out today, and I was intent on taking it, regardless of the risks.

I started thinking about meeting other guys like me. The thought was both terrifying and tantalizing at the same time. I tossed and turned, unable to go to sleep. Pushing down my boxers, I tugged at my relentlessly hard cock giving it the relief it needed after the swelling of hope that was raging in my mind. After wiping the cum off my chest, I feel asleep with a big grin on my face.

Part Four: Meet Charlie 

I managed to get through another session with Dr. Hendrick. He asked about Susan, and trying not to sound too enthusiastic, I indicated that I thought she was helpful. He gave me another referral. When I arrived for my appointment at Susan’s office, she introduced me to Dr. Roth, the therapist that wasn’t out to convert me. He was a nice-looking man; middle aged, balding, with a big smile. He immediately set me at ease. Dr. Roth led me around the corner to a therapy room, and when he opened the door, a young man was already seated in one of the three chairs in the room. Dr. Roth introduced him as Charlie. He stood up to shake my hand, and we made polite introductions.

When I thought of group therapy, I guess I had more people in mind, but it was just Dr. Roth, Charlie, and me. We sat there and talked for an hour. My mouth and my body were present, but my mind was lost on planet Swoon. Charlie was a gay dream come true. I’m 5’8”, but he was at least five or six inches taller than me. He had broad shoulders and a perfect v-shaped chest. His brown wavy hair fell just above his collar perfectly framing a square jaw covered in a couple of days of scruff. He had that high-school quarterback look but without the frat-boy douchebag attitude. Smitten didn’t even begin to describe my condition.

When we stood up to clear the room, Charlie asked if I was free for coffee. I had plans but lied knowing they could be abolished with a single text message. We agreed on a Starbucks around the corner and set off to our respective vehicles.

Part Five: Let the Real Therapy Begin

Charlie: Fuck it! Let’s just walk. It’s literally just up the block.

David:   Sure.

Charlie: You seemed a little lost in your head today.

David:   Was it that obvious?

Charlie: Well…kinda. But it’s OK. No judgement.

David:   I’m a bit freaked out by this whole “underground railroad” scenario. Are you one of Dr. Hendrick’s patients?

Charlie: Nope. My quack is Dr. Dillon. Fuckin’ self-righteous prick of the universe.

David:   Oh, we should introduce them. They would get along swimmingly.

Charlie: I would rather he choke on a chicken bone and die. I hate that motherfucker.

David:   Mine’s an ass too, but he’s just doing what my parents are paying him to do. At least he’s smart enough to con them out of their money.

Charlie: And yet, ironically, it got us to this place. If they only knew.

David:   Tell me about it.

Charlie: So, what’s your deal? Give me the highlights.

David:   Christian family, never really interested in girls, only son to carry on the family name, in college majoring in history, my parents are paying for school, I’m gay, they think I’m gay, I’ve never told them, but this therapy is supposed to help me find my way. Of course, they sent me to a therapist who is hijacking me to a destination of their choosing. At some level I think they believe they are helping me, but more than anything, they just don’t want to have a gay son. How about you?

Charlie: Irish Catholic family, grew up in the church, alter boy, had more than a few priests’ dicks up my butt. It messed me up, and I overreacted. Fucked chicks like a rabbit on meth. Got one pregnant, which I found out about after she had the abortion. That went over well, as you can imagine. I was confused about my sexuality because of the abuse, and it took me a long time to come to terms with being gay. My view of gay men was wrapped up in the abuse I suffered as a child. It led to self-hatred and more than a few destructive tendencies. I was put in therapy because I was a fucked-up mess. Like yourself, my parents hold the purse strings, and they sent me to a therapist that specializes in reversing the trauma of sexual abuse and helps men get back on track to a healthy sexuality. The only problem is their view of healthy sexuality is pretty straight and narrow.

David:   Wow! You really ARE fucked up!

Charlie: Fuck you!

David:   I’ve been thinking that for the last hour.

Charlie: Oh really? What makes you think I want to fuck you?

David:   Well you did ask me out for coffee.

Charlie: Considering you developed a cum stain on the front of your khakis during therapy, I kinda figured you’d be into it. How did you lose that boner before we had to stand up?

David:   I sing invitation-call hymns in my head. Some people think of baseball. I think of Southern Baptist organ music. Kills a boner every time.

Charlie: Good to know.

Part Six: Coffee Never Tasted So Good

Charlie: I’ll have a grande dark roast with room.

David:   Can I get a venti Flat White.

Charlie: That is the gayest drink ever.

David:   What is this? The Foldger’s Brigade?

Charlie: Just givin’ ya shit. That’s all.

David:   So, are you in college?

Charlie: I was but ended up taking the semester off. Too many incoming missiles to deal with and still keep my GPA up. My shrink got me a medical withdrawal, so it doesn’t affect my academic record.

David:   Well that was lucky.

Charlie: Under the circumstances, I guess so.

David:   So, were you freaked out that you were sent to a sex therapist?

Charlie: It’s all part of the game they play. It’s all about finding healthy sexuality, which in their mind is just doing it missionary style to have more kids for the Catholic Church.

David:   Did you have sex with Susan?

Charlie: I would have if that is what it would have taken to keep the deception rolling, but she figured the situation out with me pretty quickly.

David:   Yeah, me too. I was so relieved to find out I was off the hook.

Charlie: I’ve done it before, but it was more of a reaction to the abuse than a desire to be with a woman. So, David, how long have you known you were gay?

David:   Not sure, but I would guess I had my first real thoughts about it right around puberty. I was certainly more interested in seeing the other boys naked than I was the girls. And when I learned how to browse in private windows and clear my history, I started watching internet porn. When I watched straight porn, I was always more interested in the guys. I thought the little baby-doll screams of the female porn stars were annoying. I didn’t find that noise sexy at all. However, the grunts of the men just made my dick throb.

Charlie: Well, I guess I was thinking about it a little earlier than you, but not by choice. The interesting thing is that while the abuse was happening, it didn’t seem like abuse. I was a kid, and it seemed like fun.

David:   You know what they say about alter boys who weren’t abused, right?

Charlie: They were ugly kids…

David:   You’ve heard that one before I guess. I don’t know what you looked like as a kid, but you are certainly handsome now.

Charlie: Aw shucks! I’m going to blush. But you aren’t so bad yourself. And I couldn’t help but notice when you stained your pants, the location of that stain was WAY off to the side. Damn boy! You must be packing.

David:   It’s not bad. But then you may need to do some verifications later, me being a certified liar and all.

Charlie: That sounds like an invitation. Is it?

David:   Right now, there is nothing I want more in this world than to be alone in a room naked with you.

Charlie: Well we will just have to see about that. So, when was your first gay experience?

David:   You mean sex?

Charlie: Oral, anal, yeah, whatever?

David:   Uh, well…tonight maybe?

Charlie: Shut the fuck up. Really? Handsome guy like you has never been laid?

David:   No, please, stand up while announcing my virginity to the entire population of Starbucks.

Charlie: Oh come on, everyone in this place has earbuds in. They can’t hear a thing. But your secret’s safe with me.

David:   Seriously, I have just never done anything. I grew up really conservative. Chastity pledges, wait until marriage, the whole bit.

Charlie: So, you’ve never even had a blow job?

David:   Nope.

Charlie: Hand job?

David:   Self-inflected, sure. But from somebody else, never.

Charlie: Oh dude, I am going to change your life tonight.

David:   If we are ever getting out of here, I’m going to need to start singing hymns in my head right now.

Charlie: (singing) Softly and tenderly Jesus is calling…

Part Seven: Is This Really Happening?

I texted my roommate to see if he could stay over at his girlfriend’s apartment this evening. His level of shock at my needing the place was a bit insulting, but I didn’t care at that point. We walked back to our cars. I gave Charlie the address and told him to call me when he was downstairs. He said he needed to go home to get a few things, so we agreed to meet around 7:30. Before walking away, he lifted his hand, put it on the back of my neck, leaned down, and kissed me right on the lips. The moment was marred by fear. I had never been in a situation of a public display of affection, much less one with another man. But the deliciousness of the kiss was worth every ounce of fear. As I drove home, I was in a panic that Charlie wouldn’t show. That that kiss was all I would ever get from him. That I might never see him again. He seemed like a man of his word, but this all just seemed too perfect, and I was nervously waiting for the bubble to burst. Once home, I took my mind off the cancellation potential by cleaning up the apartment. I wanted everything to be perfect. I obsessed about what to wear only to leave on the clothes I was already wearing. I just brushed my teeth and rinsed with mouthwash.

Part Eight: Yep! This Is Definitely Happening

David:   Hello?

Charlie: I’m downstairs. Sorry, I’m early. I guess I’m just an eager beaver tonight.

David:   Well I’m not ready. I’m still shampooing my hair.

Charlie: Get your ass down here and let me in.

David:   So demanding. On my way.

David:   Come on in.

Charlie: No wonder you need cash from your parents. This place is swanky. Nothing like the dorm I just moved out of.

David:   Yeah, but your school wasn’t run by Baptists. Everything’s a tradeoff.

Charlie: At least Catholics are into drinking.

David:   Amen to that!

Charlie: Oh, you drink? You ARE a naughty boy.

David:   Well we can put that theory to the test. This one’s mine. After you.

Charlie: Thank you kind gentleman.

No sooner had I shut the door and turned around, Charlie had me pinned against the door pushing his massive frame against me and eagerly kissing me on the lips. This time, there was no fear. I kissed back with everything I had. When we finally let up, he stared down in my eyes, still, quiet, and smirking. In a quick inventory of my life, I rapidly concluded no other human being had ever looked at me like that. He went over to the dining room table and started unloading his backpack.

Charlie: Condoms, lube, candles, and fresh Bing cherries.

David:   Candles? Really?

Charlie: It’s your first time. It needs to be special.

David:   Aw, that’s so sweet and romantic. So, what are the cherries for?

Charlie: To celebrate popping yours. Plus, fucking makes you hungry.

David:   I see.

Charlie: You got any matches?

David:   Here, I have one of those long lighters. Ya know, the kind with the little triggers.

Charlie: You are just an all-around Martha Stewart, aren’t you?

David:   Nah, just a boy scout. Always prepared.

Charlie: Mind if I take my shoes off.

David:   Charlie, I don’t mind if you take everything off.

Charlie: What fun would that be?

David:   I don’t know, but I plan to find out.

Charlie: Are you sure you are a virgin? You sound like the voice of experience.

David:   It’s the porn talking.

Charlie: Come here.

That’s all he had to say. He was sitting in a dining room chair. I straddled the chair and sat in his lap facing him. Our lips locked again, but this time, our groins were mashed up against each other. It was clear the clothes would have to go.

David:   Grab a candle, my room’s down the hall.

Charlie: Yes sir.

I closed the blinds. It was a private dorm, but this was still a Baptist school. You could never be too careful. The room glowed with soft light and Charlie spread himself on the bed face up propping his head up with pillows to see what I was up to. I pushed him over a bit and laid down beside him. Without a word, he rolled over and straddled me on all fours. Like he did at the door, he stared deeply into my eyes. No sound, but entire paragraphs were being transmitted with just a look.

He leaned down and started to lick my ear. I realized I would have to stop counting firsts, because pretty much everything from this point forward was going to be a first. I could feel my dick engorging, and we had pretty much just started. It was trapped in my jeans. Charlie’s kiss moved down my neck, and slowly, button by button, he opened the front of my shirt. As his lips swirled the periphery of my nipple, I let out a gasp of pleasure. I had seen plenty of tit play in porn, but short of pinching myself, I had never felt the sensation that made it clear to me why people considered this such an erogenous zone. He playfully moved to the center and started nibbling and sucking on it sending me into a back-arching fit of pleasure.

He moved lower, and I was hoping he would unzip my pants because my dick was in pain by this point. But instead, he started biting it through my jeans. He started from the center and bit outwards until he was at the head. I could feel the heat of his breath through the denim. Finally, he unbuttoned them and slowed pulled the zipper down. Suddenly, he jumped up to the foot of the bed and grabbed the bottom cuffs of my jeans. I lifted my butt, and he yanked them off in one single motion. I watched as he neatly folded them and hung them with great precision on the back of my desk chair. It was totally unnecessary, but an act of caring and confident unhurriedness. He went back to biting my dick through my underwear his saliva mixing with the pre-cum soaked fabric. I could feel the bite more intensely through the thinner material.

I thought my underwear would come off next, but instead, he laid down beside me as if to imply, “your turn.” I took the hint and repeated his moves in a near verbatim fashion. The major difference was that his torso was covered with the most beautiful, dark chest hair. I rubbed my face on it letting the hairs tickle my skin. This felt so right, so natural for me. There was no way I was made to be with a woman. I needed a man. A manly man. A hairy-chested man. When I started sucking on his nipples, he egged me on encouraging me to be a little more aggressive. I complied and amped up the clinch of my bite. It seemed to send him to the moon and back.

When I started trying to chew on his dick through his pants, I was having a bit of trouble. His dick didn’t seem as long as mine, but when he bit mine, it was like getting your teeth around a banana. In his case, it was more like a beer can. I quickly realized my jaw didn’t stretch that wide. I unbuttoned his pants and unzipped his fly. I tried to recreate his single-swoosh removal trick, but my efforts were not near as smooth. I folded his pants as well, but not with the same air of cockiness.

With his pants off, I was able to get a closer look at the monster in his boxers. I grabbed it with my hand and nearly laughed at the immensity of its girth. I’ve seen a lot of porn, and watching a thick dick is one thing, but holding one in your bare hand is certainly another. I had only held one dick before, my own. It was not this massive.

He sat up as if to say it was time to switch positions again. We both took off our shirts and were completely naked except for our underwear. He motioned for me to roll over on my stomach. He straddled me, slid his arms under my pits, pushed my legs together, and started nibbling on my ear from behind. He slowly kissed my back and licked along my spine. The scruff on his chin scratched my back. When he got to my underwear, he slid his fingers under the waistband and pulled them down. They were dropped on the floor in casual contrast to his previous folding routine. I could feel his breath at the base of my scrotum and I wasn’t sure what was next, but I didn’t have to wait long. His palms were planted firmly on my butt cheeks. He spread them wide, and his wet tongue slid slowly up my ass crack. He pulled back and spit right at my hole. I felt the tip of his tongue flicker right on the fleshy ring around the hole. He went back to long, slow, tongue-wide licks like he was trying to manage the drips from a popsicle on a hundred-degree day. My body was on fire. I had never felt anything like this. I was in heaven. He moved out to the fleshy mounds of my butt checks and gently bit them. The slight stings of pain were surprisingly pleasurable.

He laid face down on the bed and I repeated his motions like some sexual echo. The fine hair on his ass was a sight to behold. Most porn stars are so clipped and shaved, but this natural state of masculinity had me cross-eyed with lust. I licked that hairy hole like a pro leaving no trace of first-timer status. He rolled over and sat up. We were face to face, completely naked. I wrapped my legs around his back and we kissed in an intense hug with his chest hair electrifying the contact between us.

Charlie: You ready?

David:   Oh, fuck yeah!

Charlie: I’ll take that as a yes. Well, let’s see how long you can last on your first blow job. I’ll go slow, but I bet you pop in no time flat.

David:   I’ve been leaking since you kissed me at the door.

Charlie: I know, I tasted it when I was sucking on your underwear. YUM! Alright then, lay back.

David:   Yes sir.

Charlie: Damn! That is a long dick. It may not be as thick as mine, but damn if that isn’t nine inches.

David:   It’s not. It’s just eight and a half.

Charlie: Haven’t you heard of rounding?

David:   Well it will feel like ten when it’s ball-deep down your throat.

Charlie: Listen to you, big talker.

Charlie gently licked the underside of the head, flicking the tip of his tongue in a fluttering motion. The sensation was intense but tickled more than anything else. He finally put the whole head in his mouth swirling his tongue around and clamping down with a bit of suction. The warmth was amazing. With one hand, he cupped my balls, and with the other he grabbed the base of my dick. He started sliding down the shaft in slow timid strokes. I could tell he was holding back knowing that if he went full bore, I would blow in a heartbeat. He took his hand away, repositioned his angle, and slowly, in one smooth motion pushed his lips to the base of my cock. I could feel him breathing through it nose to avoid gagging. He was in no hurry to come up. He had me all the way down his throat, and it felt like the most natural place my dick could ever be. He tugged on my balls intensifying the pleasure. He came up slowly, like a man trying to defuse a bomb and not wanting to make any sudden motions that would cause it to explode. But right as his mouth got to the head of my dick, I convulsed and unexpectedly unleashed a massive load right in his mouth. He didn’t move but guzzled every drop. He lifted up with a big smile on his face and wiped his lips with the back of his hand.

Charlie: Damn that taste good.

David:   Sorry about the lack of warning.

Charlie: I knew it was coming eventually. You held out pretty long for a first time. So how does it feel to not be a virgin anymore?

David:   Amazing. I’m glad my first was with you.

Charlie: Well there are many more lessons tonight, you aren’t done yet.

David:   I hope not. So, do I get to try that on you.

Charlie: Nah, I hate blow jobs.

David:   WHAT?

Charlie: I’m kidding. What man don’t like getting his dick sucked?

David:   That’s more like it.

Charlie laid back, and I bent over to start sucking him. At first, it was like putting a large rubber ball in my mouth. I got the head in, but the thing was so thick, it wasn’t going down my throat. I tried several other positions but wasn’t really capable of getting too far down the shaft. Charlie stopped me, rolled me on my back and pulled me so my head was hanging off the edge of the bed. He stood on the floor, grabbed the sides of my head, bent his knees, and positioned his cock to go straight into my flattened esophagus.

Charlie: Remember to breathe

David:   umhum

The problem wasn’t remembering to breathe. The problem was that Charlie’s massive, low-hanging balls were smack up against my nostrils. I reached around, grabbed his scrotum, pulled it away from my air passages, and played with his egg-sized balls. While temporarily distracted by oxygen deprivation, Charlie was making progress getting that monster down my throat. Before long, I realized I had taken the whole thing. He started pulsing inside my mouth and considering I wasn’t protesting, he slowly ratcheted up the strokes until he was face fucking the hell out of me. It wasn’t exactly pleasurable, but the satisfaction of meeting the challenge was certainly rewarding. I could tell from his breathing he was getting close to coming. Suddenly, he pulled it out, stuck two fingers in my mouth, pried my teeth part, and shot round after round of thick cum on my tongue. He used his other thumb and index finger to squeeze the last drop out of his dick like it was a toothpaste tube. Without removing his fingers, he guided me to a sitting position on the edge of the bed, leaned down to kiss me, and as he took his fingers out, our lips locked in a cum-swapping kiss. Our tongues were coated in his jizz and the taste coupled with the intensity of the kiss was mind-blowing.

He plopped down on the bed exhausted and still hard as a rock. I laid my head on his hairy chest and we just laid there in silence as our breath return to normal.

Part Nine: It DOES Make You Hungry

We retreated to the kitchen to grab a glass of water and rehydrate. Charlie grabbed a cherry and dangled it over my mouth. I put my lips around it and pulled it from the stem. The symbolism of the popped cherry was a memorable moment. It was literally sweet, but also a sweet gesture on Charlie’s part to acknowledge the importance of this moment in my life.

David:   So, how’d I do?

Charlie: Well, let’s see. Nine-inch cock. Sweet-tasting cum. Massive load. A very eager ass-eater. And when properly guided, able to shove an entire beer can in his mouth. Oh, and a really good kisser. I’d say you did pretty well.

David:   My God, you are a sight to behold. That massive, hairy body of yours is just so hot. You are the physical embodiment of the man of my dreams.

Charlie: You’re gonna make me blush again. Some people are attracted to their twin. As for me, I’m more attached to men who are hot, but in ways that are different from myself. I look at you, and I don’t see myself. Rather, I see what I want for myself. I don’t have a set type, but if I did, it would probably be you.

David:   If I didn’t know any better, I would say you were trying to have sex with me again.

Charlie: Whatever gave you such a profane notion?

David:   I don’t know. Maybe the fact that your dick is getting hard again.

Charlie: You and your wicked powers. What are we to do?

Charlie grabbed his bag of goodies and led the way back to the bedroom

Part Ten: I Didn’t Even Know That Was Possible

We got back to the bedroom, and Charlie put a pillow in the middle of the bed and instructed me to lie on my back and prop my butt up in the air with the pillow. I eagerly complied. He sat with his legs crossed facing me and placed my ankles on his shoulders giving him full access to my hole. He smiled really big, like he had a secret. He pulled out the lube and pumped a squirt of it onto two of his fingers. He gently rubbed my hole slowly inserting one of the digits into my rectum. My head fell back, and I let out an elongated sigh. He repeated the process getting more lube into my ass each time. Then, while fully inserted, he hooked his finger, pressed upward, and pulled back with considerable pressure.

David:   Holy FUCK! What just happened?

Charlie: That’s your prostate.

David:   You mean like cancer?

Charlie: Wow. You sure know how to kill a buzz. Yes, but it does more than just get cancer. It is also a sexual pleasure center for anal sex. This is the thing you can’t see in porn that once you know about it, you realize why their eyes are rolling back in their heads.

David:   Do it again.

Charlie: OK. Ready?

David:   Yep. HUMMMMM! I think I’m going to cum.

Charlie slowed down the stimulation to avoid sending me over the edge too quickly. But despite the reduced intensity, he kept massaging the spot, and my dick was leaking precum like never before. I have never witnessed that much clear liquid drip from my dick. While he had my ass on warm simmer, he leaned over and put both of my balls in his mouth. He rolled them around, sucking and pulling on them. He sat up, put some fresh lube on his fingers, but as he went to insert them this time, he didn’t just put one in, but two. I wailed in pain at first but was soon overcome with the pleasure of having two fingers rocking back and forth over my prostate.

Charlie: How ya feeling?

David:   Fucking amazing. This is incredible. I’ve never felt like this before.

Charlie: You ready for three?

David:   I guess we are going to find out.

Charlie put a couple of squirts of lube on his fingers and slowly filled my ass with three fingers. The stretching of my hole was merciless, but when the fingers slid against my prostate, the sensation was pure bliss. I thought I might bust a nut without even touching my dick. He slowly removed his fingers and wiped them off with a towel from the kitchen. He tore open a condom and put it on his dick. I was like, here we go. He covered it in copious amounts of lube. He unfolded his legs and slid closer to me. With one hand, he steadied himself on the bed and with the other he pushed his cock down to get the tip to align with my hole. The insertion was slow, but I thought three fingers were a lot. I had no clue. As he pressed into me, my ass was split wide open. It was truly painful, but I didn’t want to let on.

Charlie: This feels awful, I know. But in about two minutes you are going to love it more than life itself, I promise.

David:   OK. I trust you.

Charlie: In the meantime, I am going to distract you by jacking your cock. When the pleasure starts to overcome the pain, just transfer your weight through your legs to my shoulders so you are suspended and can freely move. And then fuck yourself on my cock at whatever depth and rhythm feels right for you.

David:   Got it.

Charlie put lube all over both of his hands. With one, he pulled and caressed my balls. With the other, he slowly stroked my 8.5” cock. After all the prostate stimulation, my dick was ridiculously sensitive, and every stroke sent me into body spasms. I was not sure about the two-minute thing, but sure enough my ass started wanting more of Charlie’s cock. While he was stroking my dick, I pushed into his getting it further into my ass. I clenched down on it with my sphincter muscles and lifted myself up as he told me to. Suspended between my ankles and my upper back, I started to rock back and forth on the length of his cock. Charlie let out an approving grunt of satisfaction and started stroking my cock at the same pace I was fucking his dick. The simultaneous synergy between my cock and my ass was a pleasure I never thought possible. My entire body was in a state of electric shock. I quickened the pace slamming my ass all the way down on his dick impaling my prostate with Charlie’s rock-hard head. All the pain was gone. It was all pleasure, and I just wanted as much as I could take from the situation. I bounced as fast as I could and with a blood-curling scream I shot my second load of the night that flew over my head like I had just come back from a week of not masturbating at church camp. Most of the rest of it landed on my chest.

Charlie carefully pulled out of my ass, leaned over, and started licking the cum off my body. I was so spent with pleasure, I was crying tears of joy. He stopped and made eye contact with me. It was the third time this evening he had done that, and this time the stare was not one of anticipation, but one of satisfaction and connection. I stared back at him smiling the entire time. I reached up and wiped a dab of cum off his stubble and stuck it in my mouth. He laughed.

He reached down and carefully removed the condom from his dick. He held it above his head at an angle letting a huge load flow into his mouth. When it was empty, he closed his lips, leaned over and kissed me flooding my mouth with his cum. My tongue went wild with tasty lust.  

Charlie: You have one more thing to do to fully lose your virginity. You’re gonna have to fuck me with that nine-inch dick of yours. Except for a dildo, I’ve never had one that long up my ass. So, you are going to need to go easy on me. But right now, I’m spent. Can we pick this up in the morning?

David:   If you insist.

Charlie: I do.

I’ve never slept as well as I did that night wrapped in the hairy chest of a man I met through my parents’ Christ-centered gay-conversion therapy. I may not have made a full escape yet, but I was now comforted by the joy I knew existed on the side of being who I was truly meant to be.

by Tradd St. Croix

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