TRUE FIRST TIME TALES

Tyson's First Time Tale

I grew up pretty normal. Nothing different than my friends. We lived in a small suburb of a major city in the mid-western US. It was separated from the major city by a few miles of mostly farms and a few patches of woods and a river. We had a mostly rural life, but the city was less than half-an-hour away by car. We could see the glow of the city lights at night and they obscured most of the fainter stars.

Our town had its own school system, including a newish high school. It was built with expansion in mind, so our classes were about twenty kids in a room. Gym class was about fifty boys and fifty girls, and there was no first period or last period gym classes. Lunch was split into three, and some kids went to a split class with lunch in the middle of it.

I had the normal amount of friends growing up, which expanded in junior high and grew even larger in high school. I was always good at sports, and I really loved baseball. I was a good batter, a fair pitcher, and a really good outfielder because I could throw the ball home from the outfield wall and not be off by more than a foot or so.

I hit puberty kind of early. By the end of sixth grade I was getting pubes and jerking off. Most of my friends then were still small and smooth down there. Yeah, we did some show and tell. It was interesting, for sure. In junior high, I got to see that I was well ahead of most of the guys in my class. I was more like some of the eighth-grade guys.

I dated a couple girls in junior high. I was a good looking guy with an athletic build, and I had no problems talking to girls. By the end of junior high I was no longer a virgin. I'd dated four girls and had some kind of sex with three of them. The last one, Kate, gave it all up pretty quickly. She didn't like to suck dick, but she had no problem giving up her pussy so long as I had a condom. I got them from my older brother.

So, high school was almost a breeze. I was popular, good looking, dating, getting laid, had a decent car, and had parents who made a good living. It was all good.

Then things got weird.

I'd always been just fine with gay guys. They didn't bother me and I didn't care. My friend Jason came out to me and a couple other of us close friends in ninth grade. We kept it quiet, like he asked. He didn't date anyone, being gay wasn't all that accepted yet, but at least it wasn't an automatic exile sentence anymore. He was the only gay guy I'd heard of in our school, possibly our entire town.

Jason tried to seduce me a couple of times. Let's just say it was a close call. I nearly went for it. He'd talked a good talk about it just being friends messing around. He claimed he could probably give better head than any chick for this and that reason. Good reasons, too. He was convincing. But it was just too weird. I liked girls. And Jason was a good friend. It was too weird to even think about. I told him no, but thanks, and I'm flattered, and all that. He was sort of let down, but, well, I just wasn't interested.

Okay, to be honest, I kind of was interested. I was straight. Mostly. The idea of jacking off with a dude wasn't disgusting or anything like that. It was sort of interesting. Like doing a naughty thing when you're a little kid. The idea of sucking a dick was sort of intriguing. I thought that giving that kind of pleasure to a guy might be kind of fun - if I liked the guy. Sort of gross, though. I sure wasn't going to be swallowing any cum. Butt sex? Not in my ass. It had to hurt. But... well... if the guy wanted me to fuck him... and he was, well, okay looking, or something... then... maybe? I mean, I'd tried to get a couple girls to let me in the back door. No luck there. But there was something about the idea of getting my dick in that tight little hole... Damn. If I was going to mess around with a guy, I think that was going to be what I'd want to check out. No kissing, just filling up that tight back door, and slamming it home, over and over.

To be as honest as possible, I'd had a few dreams and fantasies about that. Always some little guy under me, almost a girl, but not, spread wide, with me thrusting myself into him, over and over, making him do what I wanted. Sort of a control scenario. It made me... well, it was a hot, sexy, intense thought.

There were these guys, small guys, smooth, almost hairless, kind of gentle and weak seeming. Mostly freshmen and sophomores. They turned me on. I hid that and fought it and put it in the back of my mind and ignored it. But sometimes, when I let it out, the idea of taking one of those little guys home, and almost forcing myself on one, making him let me, not forcing him, but sort of. Getting him to let me inside him.

Geeze.

But I was straight. Those were just weird little thoughts every guy has sometimes. They were nothing.

Senior year. I was dating Melissa, and had been for almost the entire year. I sort of liked her, but I still wasn't sure I had ever been in love yet. I'd heard how overwhelming and powerful love was. I loved my folks, my older brother, my younger sister, I loved baseball but in a different way, I loved my car but in a different way. I was sure I knew what it was to fall in love, but I just hadn't felt it for any of the girls I'd dated so far. I sure felt I liked them enough, or I wouldn't have dated them.

So my friend Jason was over one Sunday night after our busy day of this and that. He was really excited about something and wanted to tell me all about it. Turns out he was in love. Some new guy at our school named Delaney. From Scotland. Okay. He was all hyped about this guy. He told me all about him. I wondered how I hadn't noticed him. He was slightly short, pretty thin, pale, with long - really long - red hair and blue-gray eyes. He sounded pretty noticeable. Anyway, Jason is all hyped and says he's sure Delaney is gay and was planning on talking to him and getting to know him and it was going to be all wonderful and love and all that. I wished him luck. Seriously. I liked Jason quite a bit and wanted him to be happy.

So, Monday, I start looking for this Delaney. He wasn't hard to find. He was on the short side. He looked more like a freshman than a senior. Slim, for sure, on the border of skinny. He had really red hair, like deeply red, hanging all the way down between his shoulder blades. It was straight and coppery and looked really cool. He was more dorky than I expected, though. He had pretty dorky features, if you ask me. Almost sort of like overdone Elven features. Sharp cheekbones, almost pointed chin, slim face, angular brows that were very faint and clearly red, and slightly downturned eyes on the outer edges. Big nose, but not too big. But he did have really nice lips. Red and firm and curvy. And a nice smile. Clear complexion that proved he was from somewhere not very sunny at all. He moved kind of girly. Not very, just with a sort of grace and elegance. As if he were a dancer or into ballet or something. Smooth and sure and almost gliding. And he seemed so timid and reserved. By the end of the day, I'd noticed him several times in the hallways. He wore slightly tight jeans, and there was no mistaking he was male. Not a bad ass, either.

Over the next few days, a couple weeks, maybe, Jason was all hyped about this guy. He was talking to him, and was sure he was at least not totally straight. He was planning on asking him if he wanted to go to a show some weekend. Jason wasn't all that outgoing, a little shy, so he was having a little trouble. I figured I'd help him out.

So, one day I walked up to this Delaney and said hi. He looked up at me and smiled and blushed. He mumbled a hi back at me and returned to looking where he was walking.

"So, I was wondering, when did you come here? I heard you're from Scotland?"

"Yeah, I am. Been here about a month."

He sure had the accent. He sounded quite a bit like the old Doctor Who guy. The new one. I don't know his name, I'm not a fan, but some of my friends watch it so I've seen some of it.

"So, my friend Jason was telling me about you. He seems to like you."

He sort of snickered and blushed darker. He glanced up at me quickly then away again. He was a dorky guy, no doubt, but he wasn't really dorky or ugly. Just not your typical hottie like me and most of my friends were.

"So, I was wondering, what do you think of him?"

"I've gotta go to class," he barked and nearly ran off.

Oh, shy. I get it. I'd have to work harder. No wonder Jason wasn't getting anywhere. Two shy guys. Hah. That was probably a riot to watch them try talking to each other. No problem, though. I'd get them together in no time.

 First, I had to find out if Delaney was actually gay. He sort of gave off that kind of vibe in the few seconds I talked to him, but that wasn't proof. Before that, though, I'd have to get to know him a bit. I wondered how I was going to do that. He was sure shy.

I'm no brain, but I'm not stupid. I came up with a couple ideas by the end of the day. I ran into Delaney on his way to the bus stops.

"Hey, Delaney," I called as I walked up beside him.

"Um, hi," he mumbled, turning red again.

Man, he blushed easily.

"So, you ride the bus?"

"Yup. Do."

"Don't have a license?"

"Nope. Not everyone has a license to drive in the UK. Not like over here."

"So, you never learned to drive?"

"I learned, sure. Never got a license. They're bloody expensive."

"You can get one through the school. The class isn't very expensive."

He looked up at me with surprise and asked, "Really?"

"Yeah. Drivers' Education classes are about two-hundred bucks. You get trained and a learner's permit, and then getting the exam at the DMV is only about fifty bucks."

"The school has those cars," he said, looking aside.

"Yeah. That's what they're for."

"I was wondering about those," he said, looking at me again. "Thanks, mate."

"No problem. The class in only one semester, and you can still sign up. You'd have your license by the end of the school year."

"Thanks!"

He had a very wide and very nice smile. I could see why Jason was so into him, even if he was sort of dorky.

"If you want, I can take you to practice on the old factory parking lot."

"What?"

"You can get used to American cars. We can drive around that huge parking lot. It still has a couple stop signs and some corners, and you can practice parking."

"That would be brilliant!" he smiled.

"If you want, I'll give you a ride home, and we can stop by the old factory on the way."

Suddenly he looked almost scared.

"If you want," I offered.

"I don't know."

"Some other time?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

"Okay. Talk to you later," I said, giving him a nod as I turned away.

Well, the next day, Delaney walked up to me after first period and asked, "You still willing to teach me American car driving?"

I turned to see him walking next to me, smiling up at me.

"I told pop about the class and he said it sounds good. Getting the class. He said to sign up. So I did. I start class when the semester starts."

"Cool. We got a couple weeks. So, you wanna go practice after classes today?"

"Yes, please!"

"Cool. I parked in the south lot. Meet me at the south doors by the music wing after last bell?"

"Sure thing! See you then!"

We saw each other a few times during the day. He always had a big smile for me.

After last bell, he came running up, all smiles.

"I got the handbook," he said, holding up the drivers' manual. "Read it mostly through."

"Good. I'll quiz you on the way to the old factory. Come on."

He was a pretty good learner. He knew almost every answer. I asked just about everything I could think of. He even knew a couple things I told him were wrong, but he looked them up in the handbook and he was right.

By the time we got to the old factory, I was feeling pretty safe with the idea of him taking control of my car. It was a seven-year-old Camry. Nothing special, but I liked it a lot. It was Mom's old car. I sure wasn't going to get Dad's old Lexus. Not yet, anyway.

So, when I parked in the lot at the old bottle factory, he was all smiles.

"You ready?"

He'd told me about driving with his dad back in Scotland, so he wasn't inexperienced, he'd just never driven a car with a left-hand wheel. And mine was an automatic, so it was going to be easy by comparison.

He nodded and we switched seats. He moved the seat and mirrors and got ready. I had him move forward and backward, turn in a circle, do a few easy moves. Then I told him to follow the road marked out in old, faded paint between the parking areas around the building. It was a massive old building, with loading docks and truck parking and lots of intersections and stop signs. He used his signal, stopped smoothly, made good turns, seemed to do really well. He said it was weird to be on the wrong side of the car and drive on the wrong side of the road, but it was fun too.

I had him nail it a few times. He got all excited. It was funny. He wanted to know if he could do a donut. I laughed.

"It's front wheel drive. It can't."

"Oh. Well, I should be getting home anyway."

He parked and we switched seats.

"Thanks for this," he said as I put the car in drive.

"No problem. Any friend of Jason's is a friend of mine."

Then he leaned over and pecked my cheek.

Well, so much for the question of whether he was gay or not. Now, the question was, how was I going to handle that.

My first reaction was to glare at him. Socially trained reaction. My instinctive reaction was a shock - to return the kiss. That was so surprising that I ended up holding the glare.

His face went from shocked, and sort of cute, to horrified and terrified. He actually shrank into the seat and looked like he was trying to hide inside of it.

That made me feel awful. Horrible. Like a total ass.

"I'm so sorry!" he almost cried.

I was sure he was about to bust into tears!

"No, it's okay. Honest. I was... I was just surprised. That's all."

He took a few seconds, during which I could tell he was doing his best to hold back tears, then finally said, "I don't blame you if you don't like me anymore and don't want to teach me to drive again."

"Dude, it's not like that," I blurted out.

He looked at me with a kind of hope on his face. It was so much better than the fear earlier.

"I just didn't expect that," I told him again.

I really hadn't. Maybe if I had... but I'd still... what?

What was really bothering me was the desire to kiss him back. Still. To make him feel better. Safer. Happier.

What the fuck? Why did I feel like that?

I put the car in gear and asked him what way to his house. He told me as we went. We talked about how it was being gay and moving to America. He'd messed around with a couple friends back in Scotland, but the weren't gay and it was just hand-jobs for the most part, and he loved giving blow-jobs, though he'd only gotten one from one of them that once. He really opened up. It was really flattering and very interesting.

As I put the car in park in his driveway, he looked right at me and said, "Please don't tell anyone! Please!"

"I won't. Don't worry. I have a gay friend. I haven't told anyone about him. I won't tell anyone about you. I promise."

"Jason?" he asked, looking shy again.

"Yeah. He's into you, you know."

He snorted a little cute laugh, then said, "I wish I liked him. But I don't."

"Why not? He really likes you."

"Yeah, but, well, he's not... I don't know. He's just not... hot."

"He's a pretty good looking guy," I argued.

"No, he's okay. He's not all that... I don't know. He's... too much like me."

"What's that mean?"

"He's too... much like me. Like a girl. Faggy."

Oh. Yeah, I could see that. Jason wasn't as obvious as Delaney, but he wasn't obviously straight, either. He had a little something that let you know he was either light in the boxers or liked the dick.

But if Delaney didn't like other guys that seemed gay, what did he like? So I asked him.

He looked right at me and said, "I like a man. A guy who acts like a man. A real manly guy. Like you."

Great, he likes straight guys. He was in for a world of disappointment.

He went on, "I like brown eyes, and blond hair, and strong arms, and a athletic body, and strong features, and a sexy voice."

His face was so red!

Great. Was I being a prick tease? To a gay guy? Just freaking great. Geeze.

"I want a guy who'll be in charge. Who knows what's up. Who'll be the man."

He was really letting it out. He was almost shouting.

He finished, softly, looking right at me, "I like guys like you."

Oh!

"I want a guy who'll put me down on my bed and take control. Who'll take my clothes off and put me how he wants me and do me like he means it."

Oh!

"I don't want a guy who'll be all soft and gentle and shite. I want the guy to know what he wants and just do it. Take my ass like he owns it."

Oh!

"Sorry if I said too much. I just never talked to anybody about this before."

"That's okay," I stammered.

I nearly asked him if he would consider letting me... you know... do something. With him. To him. Whatever. The way he talked about wanting a guy to take control and just fuck him... it was just what I'd kind of harbored and fantasized. No wishy-washy, smoochy-woochy, lovey-dovey bullshit. Just a serious, hard, up-the-ass fucking.

"Wish I could thank you for being such a stand-up good guy about this," he said, grinning at me. Then he shrugged. Then he looked at his house. "I've got a poster of your car. It's not the exact same, same color though. I can let you have it. I don't have the room for it on my wall now. You can have it, if you want it."

"You have a poster of a 2014 Camry?"

"Yeah. One of those dealer posters. Dad sold American cars in Scotland. We moved here so he could be a buyer and ship them over easier. He makes tons doing it. I've got posters of cars you wouldn't believe."

"Oh, wow. I'd like to see it, at least."

"Okay," he smiled. "Come on in. It's in a box with a ton of others, might take a few to find it."

"I've got a while. I don't have to be home at any certain time."

"Great! Come on."

His dad made some money, no doubt. The house was bigger than mine, and my folks were doing well. His room was nice, and bigger than mine as well. He had a ton of car posters on his walls.

"You really like cars, huh?"

"Yeah. Muscle cars the most, as you can see."

He had posters of just about every major muscle car for the last fifty years. Lots of Mustangs and Chevelles and G.T.O.s and such.

He dug into a box in his closet and pulled out several rolled posters. One was sure enough my car, exactly one year previous. Same color, same aero package, everything. It could have been my car except for the couple small cosmetic changes from that year to mine. He made me take it and a few others that were similar, and a few more of cars I liked. He must have had a thousand posters.

"Dad uses them to get cars. Used to. Now he just drives around and takes pictures of the car for sale and sends them back to the shop in Scotland. If they get a buyer, he flies or rents a car and goes to buy the car, then rents a car or flies back home."

"Looks like he makes good money," I said.

"He does. Even more now he can get pictures of the real car and send them back. He can buy and sell dozens of cars a week. Makes a few grand a week so far."

"Wow."

"He's gone all the time, though. He's in Seattle right now. Won't be back until Saturday or Sunday. Five cars there he's looking at."

"Miss him a lot?"

"Sort of. But once I graduate I'll go 'round with him. Stay in hotels and see the States. Be fun, I think."

"Sounds like it, for sure."

It was sort of awkward for a bit. Then he asked if I wanted to see a picture of his old house and town. I said sure. He got a box out of his desk and brought it to the bed where we were sitting. Inside were a few smaller boxes and one had a bunch of Polaroid pictures. How old-fashioned!

He'd lived in a cobblestone house on a long drive, with a big yard and lots of trimmed hedges. A lot of pictures of nice cars. Mostly American ones. Ones his dad had bought and brought over for sale there.

It was interesting, but I found myself more interested in how he was sitting right up against me. How his warm thigh was pressed to mine. How his long hair hung down his back and swayed as he moved his head. He smelled nice, too. Clean and with a slight flowery scent of his shampoo. And a slightly spicy cologne. The way his long fingers held the pictures carefully, without touching the picture area. The way his thighs were softly curved and led into a rounded bulge between them.

I found myself wondering what he was built like down there. Long fingers, big nose, long arms and legs... I wondered.

It was like a switch was flipped. One moment I was merely wondering, the next I fucking had to know. One moment the idea was foreign and weird, the next instant it was the only thing I wanted - the one thing I had to do.

He told me he liked me. He told me he wanted a guy to take charge and be in control. He said I was his type. He was sitting next to me, up against me.

I took the current picture from his hand, tossed it into the box on the other side of him, grabbed his shoulder and turned him to face me more fully, and then leaned down and kissed him.

I pushed him onto his back and straddled his body, kissing him. I had my hands on his shoulders, holding him down. He wasn't struggling at all. He was kissing me back. His hands went to my back and roamed up and down. They moved to my ass and squeezed.

I was so turned on!

I reached down and pulled his shirt up and over his head. He was smiling up at me so brightly! Those red lips were parted in that wide smile. He was breathing hard. So was I.

This was insane! I'm straight!

I kept thinking that, but I found myself sucking his nipple as he sighed and ran his fingers through my hair.

I kissed down over his flat, pale stomach, then unfastened his jeans. He was hard, for sure, and nothing to scoff at. His blue briefs were easy to get down. His dick was very long and slightly thin, with a gentle curve upward and to his left along about the middle. It was uncircumcised. The head was hidden in a tight, contour-hugging, thin layer of skin that met at the very tip in a pink bundle. How cool! I'd never seen one like it. Not in person, anyway. I grabbed it and pulled the skin down and back, revealing a pink, angular, sharply pointed head with a tiny little hole in the very tip.

I'd never really wanted to suck a dick. Not really. Not very much, anyway. But in that moment, I was aching to. It seemed almost like I was suddenly someone else! I leaned down, opened my mouth, and tasted dick.