TRUE FIRST TIME TALES
Taylor W's Tale
I was fifteen and it was with my two best friends. The three of us had been best friends since first grade. We had other friends, but the three of us hung out together every day until high school.
We weren't in the popular cliques, but at least we weren't in the lower ones either. We were just normals. We got average grades, sometimes an F and sometimes an A. Randy loved baseball a lot, and football some, but thought basketball was boring. Brent was mostly into football, but also loved video games. I liked soccer and video games, but hated boring baseball or football. Sports cards were one of our common obsessions, though we all varied in sports and teams. Comic books were our other common obsession, though we all liked different kinds.
But we all preferred spending time together to doing anything else. We probably wouldn't have been friends if we hadn't grown up at the same age living on the same block on the very edge of town, and there weren't any other kids for blocks. Computers were expensive toys for richies. Mobile phones were bigger than home phones. Porn was limited to Hustler and Playboy and a few other magazines - which were something kids our ages could only imagine from the occasional cover rarely visible behind the drug store counter.
We never did any of those things I have heard other best buds got up to together. We never compared dicks as kids. We never talked about getting pubes or jerking off until those things took over our lives. Those things didn't exist to us until they did at puberty. We just didn't know or talk about those things. Girls didn't enter our daily lives until puberty, and then it was topic number one. Still, we never talked about jerking off or pubes or if we could squirt anything yet. We talked about boobs and butts and pussies and what we would do with girls, but we didn't really know anything and we sure hadn't done anything.
I remember one day when we were barely thirteen. Puberty was fucking with all three of us. We were growing fast, the daily zit wars had begun, we were sweaty and oily all the time, and odors were wafting that we'd never had to worry about before. Girls were the number one subject between us. I was noticing boobs and butts, and other things. I was wanking it at least twice a day, often three, sometimes four. I suspected Brent and Randy did, but we didn't talk about that stuff.
I was over at Randy's house after school, and he changed out of his good school clothes so we could work on a dirt bike his dad had got him. I had seen him change clothes before, him and Brent both, but this time it was a huge turn-on. He dropped his jeans and I saw him in just his briefs. Man, I can remember how round and nice his butt looked in those tighty-whities as he leaned forward and stepped out of his pants. And how his bulge was all... bulgy and jiggly and interesting as he put away those pants and got out his work jeans. When he slid into his work jeans, and pulled them up, his package in those tighty-whities was all bunched up in the V of the open zipper for just a moment, and I could make out the tip of his dick and his balls. It was so hot a view that I got an insta-boner that raged until I took care of it in the bathroom a while later.
I started jerking off to that memory probably that night. Watching Brent and Randy change became very enjoyable. I had a deep desire to see that often. I schemed and planned and plotted to make that happen as often as I could. After each time it happened I would jerk off remembering what I'd seen for days or weeks, usually until I got another new view to think of and to fantasize that it led to something fun happening.
That was how I got into watching Brent and Randy grow. It was so interesting to see them get taller and broader, and the bulges in their tighty-whities grow. I watched a lot of guys. I saw more than a couple other friends in their underwear too. Seeing guys in their underwear was so hugely interesting and exciting.
I began to wonder if I was gay.
During seventh grade I enjoyed watching the other boys change and shower in gym class. I even liked seeing them in those tight gym shorts. I had a couple friends in gym class and got to see them naked for the first time. It was really interesting. Fantasies of Brent and Randy and my other friends expanded and became mixed with fantasies of other boys from the locker room.
I went past wondering and began to suspect I was gay.
In eighth grade, I got crushes on boys. Nathan was this guy with the most awesome hair and great eyes and a juicy bod. He was in my gym class. He was tall and strong and popular and handsome and built like a sex god. Man, he had to have a good seven or eight inches hanging in the showers in eighth grade. His legs and his chest and his butt were all so hot. He was a richie and on a couple teams. He made me melt. He was probably the first boy I fantasized about being fucked by. I remember my crush on him so clearly. I wanted him to take me and tell me what to do and make me do it. I wanted him to control and own me.
It got hard to convince myself that it was just a phase.
Brent and Randy were becoming sexy as hell. To me, anyway. This picture from "Married... With Children" reminds me of the three of us back then so much.
The guy on the left looks so much like Randy did. Kinda dorky, a bit lanky, blonde hair that he kept kind of long and messy and brushed up and back. He was the tallest and thinnest and sloppiest of the three of us. Floppy t-shirts and khakis or tanner slacks. His room was a horror even to Brent and me. Did these doofy faces that were terrific, and he was the joker among us.
The guy in the middle looks a lot like Brent did. Dark blond hair, brown eyes, square face, a bit stockier and sturdier and shorter than Randy. More serious than Randy and a bit smarter. Total neat freak. Well, not total neat freak, but his room was neater than my friends' rooms I'd seen, and most of my house. And he had the hottest ass! Still used his dad's weights some. He was buffed the way Bud got in "Married..."
That would leave poor Bud being me. Well, not that far off. Not ugly, but not hot. I had a mullet for a while in the nineties, yeah. But my hair was more sandy-brown that the dark-brown of Bud, though I had a similar build and stature. At least until Bud started using weights and got slightly muscular. I never did, so I never did. Randy did that. I stayed lean but soft. I was the shortest of the three of us, and the most studious and the most dorky. I got the best grades, and I was still way into comics.
So there's the three amigos. It's late eighth grade, and time for the prom. Brent's dad owned a limo service. Well, it was a limo and and van rental and bus travel/tour service. He had several limos he hired guys to drive according to a schedule his wife worked out of sales and calls, and several more limos he leased to the guys who drove them and got their own fares and jobs. He promised us a six-seater for prom if Brent got a date for the dance. We swore to each other we'd get dates and be cool. We planned this big night. We'd pick them up in the limo, show them off at the prom, then take them to this nice restaurant, then a movie, then get the girls home, and then we'd spend the night at Brent's.
Well, we managed it. The getting dates part, anyway. The being cool didn't go all that well.
We had talked to girls, sure, once in a while, but we didn't have any friends that were girls. The girl I asked was the lab partner of my friend in chemistry. Three guys and one girl. Yeah. She put up with us, and usually outdid us in classwork. She had other friends in class, who sat at the next lab table, so she spent most of her time talking to them. I worked up the guts and asked her a couple weeks before the prom. I did the whole, "just friends going to prom together" spiel. And she went for it.
Brent and Randy both got girls they knew from classes.
It was a disaster. Not at first. At first, it was quiet and awkward. Once we had picked up all three of them, they sat across the limo from us. The three of us were too scared and ignorant to know what to talk about. The girls were probably in the same place.
The prom wasn't so bad. We sat down at first, got drinks, and tried to be all cool and awesome. We danced, mostly because the girls insisted. It was nearly horrifying. I knew I wasn't interested in anything from her. I hoped she didn't expect anything from me.
My buds, though, were dancing with their hands on their dates' butts. Or almost. And were up close, grinning and looking like they were enjoying themselves. Cindy and I weren't having a great time.
So, the ride to the restaurant was okay. The girls talked together, we boys talked together, masked by the music from the car. Then dinner. Okay. Food was good. Cindy and I were going along with the flow, but we weren't feeling it. The guys and their dates were. In the car, we sat in boy-girl pairs this time. The guys and their dates were close and talking and having a great time. Cindy and I talked about the meal and school. We were both wishing it was over.
Then the movie.
I won't date myself by naming it. It wasn't too bad, but it wasn't too good either. The guys ended up making out. Well, with their girls. Holding hands at first, then sneaked kisses, then longer kisses, then hands roaming all over.
Cindy and I both looked horrified. Me, because, well, you know. She was pissed at me for this becoming more an actual date than friends having some fun together. I was pissed at my friends for making it more than that.
During the ride to drop off the girls, Brent and Randy were all over their dates. Cindy and I talked and shook our heads at the others.
The guys were so worked up after we dropped the girls off. I was glad it was all over. As soon as we got to his house, Brent held out his hand and showed us three pills he'd gotten at the prom. He said he'd almost slipped one into his date's drink. Randy asked what it was. Molly.
I knew what it was. It was new back then. It wasn't hard to find. Even us junior high kids knew what it was and how to get it. The three of us had never done drugs. We'd had a chance to smoke pot not long before this, but we'd walked away from it. I suspected, though, that Randy had gone back and tried it. Now Brent had got some ecstasy.
I wasn't too sure at all. Randy, though, was interested. A lot. I asked him again if he'd tried pot yet. I was pretty sure he had, and him being so willing to try this X had me curious again. This time he sort of rolled his eyes and sighed, "Yeah, okay, so I been smoking some weed with Kerry and the guys. Not really any of your business."
I remember saying, "I thought so!" almost too loudly.
Brent's house was huge, and his room was several rooms down a long hallway from his folk's bedroom behind those big double doors. We could be pretty noisy and his folks wouldn't even hear us. But my loud shout of revelation was nearly too loud even for Brent's.
"Since when?" Brent asked, clearly shocked.
"A couple weeks," he said, turning red.
He blushed pretty easily and quite often, and very vividly. He had no hopes whatsoever of being able to deny his blushes.
So we got him to admit to it and tell us some about what it was like as we removed ties and opened shirts and kicked off dress shoes.
Randy said the pills were the weaker ones, not the stronger ones. He said he learned that from hanging out with Kerry and his friends. And he said he had his own surprise for us. He pulled out a joint and held it up.
We'd turned and walked away from Kerry and his pot-head friends a couple weeks prior. Now I knew Randy was spending time with Kerry and his doper friends when he wasn't around Brant and me. I wasn't real surprised he had a joint on him. I was still a bit shocked Brent had those Mollys.
"Fuck it," Brent said happily. "I'll go get some beers from dad's stash and we can make a wild night of it!"
My first thought was, uh-oh. I wanted to go home. But I didn't.
Brent came back with three bottles of beer, handed each of us a pill, and Randy lit the joint.
I almost palmed the pill, but decided to just go for it. I swallowed it with a big pull off the beer. Not my first beer, but the first for months, and I'd never drank more than that one.
We watched the last half of the old monster movie on Elvira's show on the UHF channel and talked about the big night. We were sitting on his bed, leaning back against our rolled-up sleeping bags propped against the headboard. I was in the middle.
The guys were so worked up still. They clearly hadn't noticed that I hadn't kissed Cindy once all night. Obviously they had been so into what they were doing they didn't notice Cindy and I weren't. So I went along with the conversation.
Man, they'd gotten to second base! They'd both gotten feels of boobs, grabbed butt, felt the warmth between their dates' legs, and they'd both gotten groped down there themselves. No skin-to-skin, just through clothes. But that was quite a lot!
They were actually holding their dicks. I knew they were boned, and horny as fuck. I was pissed. So pissed that it didn't matter to me that they had boners right there and then. I was also having the first real debate inside about being gay. I knew it mostly for sure. But I was still debating it, and now it was almost certain. I'd gone out with a girl, and I didn't like it. I hadn't gotten horny. I was the opposite of horny.
Man, were they stoked! The pot and beer and Molly didn't help any. By the time the late movie was over, we had drank two full beers each, were stoned, and the molly had us mellow and turned on. Watching Elvira say goodnight kept the topic on the girls and sex.
I was sort of turned on, but not really. I wasn't hard at all. But I sure was all kind of turned on. I loved how it felt to make little circles inside my elbow or slowly run my hand over my stomach.
A 'girls on the beach' movie started next, so we watched it. It really was just girls on the beach. The whole thing. Or them at night in their shared apartment talking about boys on the beach. I couldn't tell you the name if you told it to me. Or who was in it. But it had girls on the beach, so...
Of course, it kept the guys hyped and turned on. I was sort of interested, and I watched it as much as Brent and Randy did, but I was more interested in the guys on the beach. And I knew it.
I knew it.
I remember almost breaking down in tears at the final realization that I was a fag. I had gone out with a girl, a pretty cute girl, and I just wasn't interested in her. Or any other girl.
But boys turned me on so much.
It was almost horrible, sitting there, between Brent and Randy, watching a normal sexy movie, and I was watching for the guys instead of the girls.
I managed to keep it inside, but it was so hard to do.
We had another joint during the movie. And another beer. I tried not to think so much about me being gay, but it was impossible.
The guys were going all hormone-y. The girls were hot, sure, so no surprise the guys were still so worked up.
I noticed that they were actually using their hands in their laps, moving and squeezing and tugging.
That got me hard. And I felt guilty about that, so I felt worse. The shortest boner in history.
By the time the movie ended, I was in tears. Silent ones, but the guys noticed.
Randy asked me what was wrong. What could I tell him? I just shrugged and tried to play it off. But I wasn't fooling him. Or Brent.
I knew now. And now that I knew, it was a deep, dark secret. I didn't want that.
The UHF station was signing off and showing that long video of cities and farms and rivers and mountains as the National Anthem played. I watched the flickering shadows play across my legs through the flowing tears.
Brent punched my shoulder, then asked, "What's wrong?"
I couldn't hold it in.
"I'm gay."
I remember the silence, except for the National Anthem.
"Are you fucking around with us?" Randy asked.
I was able to look at him, hold his gaze, shake my head, and say, "No, I'm serious. I'm a fag, dude."
I cried so hard. My face felt hot, I couldn't control my breathing, and I shook all over.
I don't know who was first, but the other was right behind him, so the delay didn't matter. I was hugged hard by both of them for the entire time I cried like a baby.
When I was done, finally, the video was done, the sign-off announcement was over, they had showed the logo for a few minutes, and then gone off the air - and static filled the room.
"You guys can let go of me now," I mumbled, then sniffled.
"You sure?" Randy asked, looking like he wasn't far from crying too.
"Yeah," I croaked.
He and Brent let go and sat up.
It seemed like the right thing to say, so I did.
"Thanks, guys."
"You really and actually don't like girls?" Brent asked.
"Yeah, I really don't." I said, meeting his eyes. "I see why you guys do, sure. But I, just..."
I couldn't tell him what.
"You'd rather fuck a guy's gross, hairy ass than a nice clean pussy?" he asked next, almost laughing.
I laughed a little, then said, "Who say's the guy's ass has to be hairy and gross?"
We all laughed a little.
Then I added, "And who says every pussy is nice and clean? There's a reason there's so many jokes about cats sniffing womens' snatches."
We had a laugh. I was feeling so much better. It was pretty cool that Brent hadn't told me to leave and not to talk to him again, and that Randy wasn't shouting at me along with him.
"Hey, Brent, he might be the type that likes to be the girl," Randy joked. "Maybe he likes taking it up the ass instead of giving it up the ass."
"How would I know?" I said, laughing a little with the guys. "Not like I got any more action than you guys."
We commiserated about still being virgins, then bragged about touching boobs and getting groped. I told them Cindy and I didn't get as busy as they had, but they hadn't noticed. I could have said I'd done as much as them and they wouldn't have doubted it. I was asked about what I was thinking and how it felt and all, being out with a girl when I didn't like girls.
It was hard to talk about, but I was able to. My best buds seemed to understand. At least a bit. They agreed there wouldn't be another three-way date, but they wanted to go out with the girls again. And they were looking forward to getting more than a boob-grope and their dicks felt through their pants.
"I thought I might blow a wad a couple times," Brent said once again.
"Tell me about it," Randy agreed. "Dude, I bet I have to throw out this underwear."
We had a good laugh. Randy's jokes often made times better.
"Yeah, I'm sorta dyin' to get out of this pair," Brent said, then got up off the bed.
He took his dress shirt off, hung it on a hanger and then on the closet door knob. Then he started opening his dress slacks. He stopped and looked at me. I was looking, so I kept looking. He grinned, I grinned. Then he dropped the slacks. I watched him take his legs out of them, then fold them, and then hang them on a hanger, and then hang them on the closet door knob with the shirt. Then he stood there and looked at me, in just his white t-shirt, black socks, and tighty-whities, grinning.
"Like what you see?" he asked.