Part 3 (complete author information is included at the end of the story)
Late in High
School was when I first started to spread my wings and get involved more in
relationships with other guys. I still have a distinct preference for guys
older than me. I don't know why, I really hesitate to give the common excuses,
that I am looking for someone to take care of me, or that I am looking for a
"father figure". No, I just have always found guys older than me attractive,
and I really don't try very hard to analyze why. It's somehow built into my DNA
I was still into theater, and was looking for a college I could go to where I could explore this as a career choice. My dad definitely disapproved, as he thought that I'd regret choosing this as a career because I wouldn't make good money. He was a successful (but deadly dull) businessman and I know he only was looking out for me, but I have to say that I was pissed that all he ever seemed to think about was money and how much you could make. My Mom allowed me to indulge my passions more, and the summer before Senior year I had attended a two week camp far from home for high-schoolers who excelled in theater arts.
It was a sleep-away camp, and from the very first day I found myself looking longingly after one of the graduate-student counselors who taught there, a very tall and handsome tanned Latino man named Rafael. He had curly black hair and broad shoulders, and he was a very talented actor and teacher, and by the end of the first day I was having trouble concentrating on the lessons, staring instead at Rafael's beautiful body, especially his strong arms and legs.
Since this story is about Billy and me, I won't go into so much detail about Rafael, but I will tell you that Rafael definitely saw me gazing at him, and when I lingered after class to talk we sat close and talked far longer than I had intended. Though we never discussed anything at all about sexual orientation, I suppose he figured me out using his sixth sense for such things (a sense I lack, myself), because he told me that there were strict rules about the staff interacting with the campers. But in parting he told me that he liked me a lot, and after we went our own ways, I began thinking of how we could be together alone without getting him in trouble.
It took till the third day when we were alone in a prop room when we embraced for the first time, then kissed. That night, we agreed on a secret time and place to meet and Rafael made beautiful love to me in the woods. I was a willing student for him there, as eager to learn from him by night as I had been in the classroom by day. During class we gave no hint of our relationship to the others, but most nights we were together, and it was absolutely wonderful. I learned that Rafael was gay and was "out" to his friends and family, and though his father didn't accept his lifestyle, Rafael thought that his father would come around eventually. He had had several relationships while in college, but had no steady boyfriend now. This was my first experience to talk to a person who was openly gay and I was fascinated by everything he told me about his life. I wanted to emulate him as I grew up to adulthood, and I definitely wanted to see him after camp was over. Rafael didn't promise that this could happen, but he gave me his email address and we agreed to correspond when we returned home. We remained very careful and discrete the rest of the time in camp, and were never discovered. It didn't seem to matter to Rafael at all about the difference in our ages, and it certainly didn't matter to me either.
I returned home from camp with a new, cosmopolitan view of the world, exposed for the first time to someone who was gay and had a normal life and a place in society. I told my parents all about what I had learned during the day in the classroom, but never gave a hint of what I had leaned about life in my steamy nights while at camp.
I landed the lead role in the High School musical that winter. We were going to do West Side Story, and I was to be Tony, the male lead. I learned through the grapevine that the drama director had chosen this challenging musical just for me, as she believed I was ready for this demanding role and would do a good job.
Opening night came early in the Spring, and once again, Billy was there. I was glad to see him, though not as innocent, wide eyed, eager about his presence and as I had been the year before.
"You were awesome!" Billy told me, clapping me on the back and hugging me after the opening show. "I heard you were going to do this show and I couldn't wait to see you in it!" I was really glad he had come, and I half expected him to be there even though he hadn't communicated with me beforehand. I still liked him very much.
"I graduated early", said Billy, sharing his news. "I have a job with the bank." I congratulated him, though having a job at a bank seemed like an eternal punishment and nothing that I'd ever be interested in myself. Then he dropped the bombshell.
"I also got married."
He could have told me that he had committed mass murder and I would not have been more shocked. He could have told me that he was defecting and running away to live in
"Married??? WHAT???" I said rather ungraciously. Naturally I assumed he meant to a girl. Marriage between men was still not part of anyone's comprehension or vocabulary in that time and place. "To who? And why? WHY?" I demanded to know.
Billy looked sheepishly at the ground. "She's a nice girl. She's really cool and we went together all through college. I think it will be all right."
My mind was swirling and I couldn't make any sense of the new scenery that had been introduced before me. I was suddenly very angry.... So terribly angry at Billy, but I didn't have the words formed yet to tell him what for and why.
"I have to go", I said, grabbing my things. I didn't give him much of any chance to respond as I turned and walked away.
"If I call you can we talk?" he called after me.
"Whatever." I said, leaving the door open just a crack. Truthfully, even through my gape-mouthed shock and horror, I wanted to know how on earth he could have made such an unbelievable, unforgivable decision. But I needed some major time to process this unfathomable news further.
I remember how difficult it had been to sleep that night. I was just furious; deeply angry, unsettled and even feeling betrayed by Billy's revelation. I tried to understand why it affected me in such a deep way. Without getting overly analytic about it, I decided it was not because I felt that Billy had rejected me. No, I never felt that there was any chance of my having a long term relationship with him. I had never thought of him as "mine". I think if he had told me he was in a long-term relationship with another guy he met at college I don't think I would have been surprised or hurt at all. Well, maybe just a little sad.
No, I think I was most offended at the way he had rejected—quite simply discarded—his sexual orientation. In my view, any guy who could make love to another so voraciously and with such passion as Billy had done with me over the years could not possibly be anything BUT gay. I could only assume that he had wimped-out in the worst way, marrying a woman to be accepted by society, by his family and by his colleagues in the working world.
But I was oddly jealous of him in a certain way too. I knew that eventually I'd have to come out to family and friends, and I was not looking forward to that day. I knew that not everybody would be understanding and open to my sexual orientation, and realized that many straight people hated and feared people who were gay. I knew it by the jokes I heard, and by what I read in the news. Billy would be able to cleanly bypass all this by living in a straight world. But I knew that marrying a girl was not even a possible option for me; there was no way I could ever pull that farce off.
But most of all I was angry at him for being a coward and rejecting his natural inborn sexual orientation at the exact same time I was discovering the courage to stand up to mine. I had looked up to him all these years and even though I was certainly aware that there were others the same way as Billy and me, besides Rafael I didn't actually know anyone else in the world that was gay. In my little world, it had been Billy and I, the only two people on the entire planet who were different, and I imagined how we'd both have the courage fight through it together. At least that's how I envisioned it in my own romanticized, fanciful way. But Billy had abandoned me on the battlefield to fight alone.
Over the next few days the shock of it all became dulled in my mind, and I began to come to grips with the fact that Billy's life had taken him on a different path and that I'd simply never see him again. That's why it came as such a surprise when he called me late one night that same week.
"Hi Matt" his voice said at the other end of the line "I guess you are mad at
"Not mad any more", I admitted, "just really shocked. How could you do it?"
We talked for an hour. Actually, he did most of the talking and I listened. He told me that he was not gay but bisexual, that he really was attracted to girls too. Bullshit, I thought. I had a very hard time believing that given that I had never seen him with a girl in my life, but I tried to accept what he was telling me as fact. He told me that he wanted to have a family and be a dad, and I certainly understood that as well. Even though it wasn't a pressing desire of mine at this stage of my life, I had occasionally considered the thought that I'd never have kids of my own; so I understood that as well.
I wondered if he had told his wife about his issues, about his relationship with me and his general attraction to guys, but I didn't ask, as I really didn't want to know the answer.
"Are you still on the track team?" Billy asked.
I told him I was, and when he asked I told him that we had practice every afternoon at the field. He said that he might come to watch, and I was very surprised when he did just that, sitting in the stands to watch me do the high jump in practice later that very week.
I talked with him briefly after practice and I realized that I actually felt somewhat sorry for him. I wondered if he ever could be truly happy with the life choice he had made, and I'll admit I even felt a little superior to him, knowing that I'd never make his mistake myself.
"Can I drive you home?" he asked. I declined his offer, as I had a ride, but I was surprised when he asked me "Can I still see you.. again?"
As I've said before, I am no dummy... and I knew he wasn't asking to see me for a Coke and conversation. He was asking me if he could see me again for sex, and without even thinking I answered, "sure, of course." Without a doubt, I still found him very sexy and brutally attractive, and if he wanted to see me, I wasn't going to let the unfathomably complicated morality of this confusing situation get in the way of my teenage fun.
It was mid-summer when Billy called and asked "When can I see you?" I was home all alone most days since my parents worked, and I worked at a restaurant bussing tables at dinnertime. I was delighted and relieved by the call, in spite of myself. I guess that in a twisted way I wanted to see that Billy, even though he was married, still couldn't resist the lure of my body and of the hot sex that we enjoyed together. I wanted to know that I gave him something he was unable to get from his wife, whatever it was.
"My parents are gone for work by 8 o'clock," I answered. Come on Wednesday, the back door will be open." I thrilled at our illicit plan as soon as I had hung up the phone. I wanted to make love with Billy in my own bed, in my own bedroom, by the bright light of day so I could see everything I could only imagine in our earlier experiences under the cover of darkness.
Tuesday night I took a hot bath before bed, and fell into a blissful sleep as soon as I hit the sheets. Wednesday morning I heard first my father, then my mother, leave for work. Still lightly drifting asleep, I heard the back door creak open and through the haze of my slumber looked up to see Billy standing beside me at my bed a moment later in the morning sunlight. He was more handsome than I had ever seen, dressed in a business suit with a red necktie, his hair combed back and his face clean shaven.
"Billy!" I said sleepily as he sat down on the edge of my bed, and I reached out to touch his hand.
"Matt-dude", he answered softly, taking my hand, then running his other one over the top of the blankets, touching my chest and stomach through the cloth as he sat so close. I stretched and raised my arms above my head. Billy slowly pulled the covers down, exposing my tall lean body to the light. I was wearing boxer briefs and my cock was standing inside at attention and pushing up on the thin cloth into a noticeable tent. Billy drank my body in and as he did began to loosen his necktie.
I'd be 18 in just about two weeks, but my body was still remarkably free of hair. My legs were covered with soft downy fuzz below my knees, but above that my legs were still smooth and practically bare. My stomach and chest had just a hint of peach fuzz on them, and I needed to shave my face only about once a week to keep on looking neat. So, even though I had started puberty much earlier than my friends did, I had never gotten big and hairy like most of them had. I was still slim and tightly muscled, lacking any body fat at all.
Billy unbuttoned his dress shirt as he looked down at me. I smiled up at him, and watched with rapture as he undressed beside me. First he pulled off his shirt, then his undershirt revealing a patch of hair in the middle of his chest. He unlaced his shoes and then slipped his trousers down his long legs, then still in his boxers lying beside me on my bed he slipped under the covers to lie beside me, skin to skin.
I loved this feeling more than any other. Billy nuzzled my neck and I could tell that he had just shaved his face an hour ago by how smooth it was next to mine. I turned my face to his, and we began to kiss deeply, mouths open and tongues intertwined. God how I wanted him, and how perversely pleased I was that he still wanted me. There was something so wicked about making love to a married man in broad daylight in my house and in bedroom that I had slept in since I was three years old. I enjoyed his touch and his smell, so clean, fresh and so unbelievably sexy. His hands roamed all over my body, first outside my briefs where they felt the turgid muscle that stood stiffly inside, then pulling the fronts down feeling his bare hands massaging my stiff penis so gently, but so deliberately at the same time.
Billy straddled my legs below my knees and grasping my undershorts with both hands he slowly, madly, tantalizingly began to tug them down. First my small curly brown pubic patch appeared, then as my hard dick sprung free and smacked against my abdomen. He continued to pull down, fingers looped in the cloth till my smooth balls fell free. He stood for a moment and removed his own undershorts, allowing me to see his straight, stiff dick up close as it emerged to view, surrounded by its soft curly hair. Bending down to sit on the bed again he began to taste me all over, and I propped my head onto my pillow to watch him make love to me.
"Jesus Christ", swore Billy. "I need you so much Matthew. I dream about your hot body and your stiff cock all the time. I couldn't wait to see you this morning." From the trance-like look on his face and the raspy tone of his voice he seemed half crazed with lust.
I didn't answer. I was basking in the glow of this beautiful man preparing to make sweet love to me. He was someone I was completely comfortable and safe with, someone I had known since I was just a boy when I knew nothing about sex or love. I pulled his face towards mine and kissed Billy's mouth back in reply, sucking his tongue as though I was trying to detach it from its roots. Billy responded by sucking my neck and my pecs, licking my armpits, and he used his lips to grasp at the tiny invisibly wispy hairs that grew around my nipples, the only sign of hair on my chest. "I like how you are so smooth. Billy said. Do you shave your chest?" He asked in a husky whisper.
"No need to," I said. "No hair grows there," I answered. But I told him that once to see what it felt like I shaved off all my body hair, including around my cock. He laughed and told me that he had tried that once too. It scratched and itched like hell as it grew back, we both remembered our similar experiences and laughed together.
"Matt, I can't believe you are almost 18—you are going to be officially a man!" Billy said looking me right in the eyes. I beamed back at him.
"I know," I said. "I can't wait."
Billy had wet his palms copiously with his spit and began to rub them all over my cock and balls. I looked down and observed that his stiff cock looked like a dangerous hunting weapon as it loomed over me, pointing menacingly in my direction, hard as a rock and thickly veined. I had never seen our naked bodies together in the bright light like this before, and it was a beautiful sight to me. His body, muscled, tanned and lightly but evenly covered with fine soft hair, mine fair, (too) slim and hairlessly smooth all over.
Shifting positions, Billy lay opposite me on the bed, my cock in his face and his in mine. He smelled like soap and water, and I pulled him to straddle me so that his hard dick brushed against my face and his soft balls dangled against my lips. I opened my mouth and for the very first time I allowed his cock to penetrate my lips and slide into my mouth. It was so big and warm and made me feel so full. Billy groaned and thrusted forward, his dick gliding deeply into my mouth and then right into my throat. I was expecting it so I didn't gag. My mouth was opened in the widest "O" it could make, lips stretched around the base of his cock, my nose buried in his fluffy, soft and fragrant pubic hair. I breathed in deeply smelling the unique mix of his manliness, soapy clean but with a hint of musk, his soft balls draped on my chin. He pulled back out and I kept my lips pressed tightly around his shaft until the head almost popped free; with my tongue I probed the tiny slit at the end and swirled around his glans tasting the sweet precum that had started to flow. He thrusted again and we repeated the process, and I would have been happy to do this all day.
He straddled my face and I could feel his balls swing and bump on my chin with each thrust. And, eyes closed, I thought back to that first day at the swimming pool when I was barely thirteen and I wondered if I might dare say a single word to him, and now here I was deep-throating his big cock and loving every moment of it.
I heard him groan and then he froze and inside my mouth the taste changed as I he gave me a spurt of his juice, and he suddenly pulled off.
"Matt, if we keep this up I will come instantly." He admitted. "I don't want to do that yet."
Rolling off of me, Billy pushed my knees up a bit towards my chin. "I want to try this", he said. I was willing to do anything he wanted, I trusted him so completely. Drowning his palms in his saliva, he made sure his fingers were slick and wet. Grasping my throbbing erect cock with one hand, the index finger of his other hand began probing around my secret spot where no one had ever touched. I gasped as I felt is finger on the spot, then gasped again as I felt it slide in. At first I fought it, but he told me softly to relax and eventually I did. It felt so unbelievable as one of his hands gripped my penis, while the other probed me in a way that no one had ever touched before. It really felt like he was touching my cock twice: on the outside with one hand, and on the inside with the other.
It was a feeling like I had never felt, his fingers were so deep in me. I had seriously never imagined this could feel so good, and suddenly I realized why men liked to fuck. I suddenly wanted Billy inside me, to fill me up with his manhood and fill me with his jizz. I wanted to be all his; I felt like such a slut suddenly but I loved it and didn't want it to stop.
Opening my eyes and looking around my bedroom I was struck by the dichotomy that I saw: my boy-bedroom that I had inhabited since I had first been out of a crib, the same room where I had played games on rainy days, read books that took me away, cuddled alone in my bed with my stuffed toys and my balnket, had weekend sleep-overs with my same age friends, I saw the posters taped on the walls of rock bands I liked as I grew up, souvenirs from family trips in the car on shelves, the trophies I had won for playing baseball and running track. This bed where at twelve, playing with my stiff little cock I had learned how to orgasm for the first time, that night that I started rubbing and just couldn't stop, thinking about (of all things) singer Marky Mark and how he might look naked, and how the pressure had built and that I was afraid I would pee and then it happened, and I knew that I was becoming a man. This same room where I now lay, beneath a big strong man, my insides filled by his thrusting fingers, touching my prostate that I never knew was there, causing me thrills that I never knew I could feel. I just wanted Billy to fuck me with his big dick. I sobbed in delight.
An expert masturbator, I had pride in my ability to control my orgasm, to edge as long as I wanted. But I had never experienced this kind of stimulation before and I began to quickly lose control of myself. Thrashing like a fish snared on a line, I tossed back and forth and suddenly with Billy's strong hand cradling my bouncing balls and firmly gripping my stiff cock I began to squirt my cum all over, wildly and with no control. Billy groaned as he watched it, and began to rub his own cock vigorously at the lewd sight. Once again, in spite of myself he had caused me to be completely out of control and to cum violently and unexpectedly in response to his touch.
"No", I said suddenly, and sitting up and pushing him back on the bed I began to almost angrily rub his penis, jerking it in and out of my sperm-slicked hand, watching the purple head appear and disappear in a blur in the bright sunlight streaming through my curtains. Drops of my own newly spilled semen rolled trails down my chest and belly and dropped onto the sheets. I wasn't the least bit gentle as I took him this way, firmly pushing him back down as he tried to sit up, then thrusting my cock and balls onto his face from above I nearly smothered him with my sex as I leaned forward and made his cock glisten wet with my spit and rubbed him savagely with my white-knuckled tight fist. Diving down on his cock with my open mouth I deep throated him as far in as it would go. As shy as I was, I had never sucked cock before today (!) but now I knew I loved it and could not get enough.
Now it was Billy's turn to lose control to me, as he thrashed about underneath.. I didn't let up for a moment, pulling my face inches away and grabbing his thick turgid muscle with my fist, masturbating him roughly and mercilessly. I was silently debating whether I wanted him to cum in my mouth or let it out to instead watch him squirt from up close, when he made the decision for me as he too began to cum, in long hot jets that arced over his belly and hit me in the stomach and my own cock as I sat on top of him. Bending forward and pointing his spewing dick right at my face, I opened my mouth and treated myself to a thick squirt that dropped into my mouth and pooled right onto my waiting tongue. I closed my mouth and tasted his juice, it was so wonderful, and so tangy and familiar, the same as when I had licked my wet fingers after he had cum when we played in his hot rod car when I was just thirteen.
enjoying the taste of his seed in my mouth, and sitting on his chest I slid
forward just a bit till our wet cocks touched end to end, I gripped them gently
in both of my hands and held them together, rubbing slowly as the thick, bubbly
sperm from both of our penises mingled and merged into one inseparable slick of
"Oh Fuck!" Gasped Billy. "No one ever did that to me before. Oh my God! Christ almighty!"
I lay back next to him, still covered with his seed and he with mine, and neither one of us had the strength to move. We were totally spent by what we had done. Totally clean and pure when we started, we were now coated with enough sperm to ice a cake, and to me it was a beautiful sight.
Billy finally reached for his discarded undershirt from the floor and dried us both off with it, then pulling up the rumpled covers he held me in his arms as I fell sound asleep with my head on his soft furry chest.
Never had I felt so peaceful and safe. Billy woke me from my slumber at some point asking me if we were safe there together, and I answered that my parents wouldn't be home from work for hours and hours. We lay together, feeling each others' bodies, smelling each other's smells, kissing occasionally. Billy sucked gently and so erotically on my tongue for a while and I found that this simple thing caused my dick to swell up stand erect immediately. I did the same to him and he laughed when the same thing happened to him.
up my hair the way I liked, and gave me a hug.
"Matt, you are going to be grown and gone soon, he said. He was right. College started for me in just two weeks, and I'd be going far away to another state.
"So, Who's that guy on your bulletin board?" he asked me. I realized he was looking at a picture of Rafael I had taken at camp. I had nothing to hide, and I told him all about Rafael and our relationship together. Billy listened and asked questions and didn't seem jealous at all.
"I am glad you found him, Matt, he said. Just always be safe, he warned. You prefer older guys, and that's OK, but just know that all of them may not have your best interests at heart. Always use protection when you have sex, and never let anyone do anything to you that you don't want to do."
I shook my head indicating that I understood and agreed. I promised I would be careful when I went to college.
After a while, we talked and laughed and played with each other's bodies some more, naked and completely comfortable being that way.
"Billy, way back then... why did you pick me?", I asked. "How were you so sure I'd be interested in doing stuff with you?" It was a fair question, and one I had thought about from time to time. I doubted that his advances towards me were random happenings. His approach with me that first time was so sure and swift, as if he had no doubts whatsoever about my willingness or the certainty of my accepting response. I wondered—had I been shocked and unwilling, resisted and told on him, the repercussions could have been very bad for him indeed.
Billy laughed. "Are you kidding? Call it a sixth sense, maybe. First of all, you were cute. And I could tell you were ready to go from the moment I first talked to you. I saw the way you had a boner looking at me, the shy but unafraid way you reacted and even moved towards me when I touched your bare shoulders and chest, how you blushed when I talked to you, and how you first let me hold your hand in the car. It was also the way you looked at me when I talked to you, right in the eye. And your smile, it told me what I needed to know." I was a little jealous. There was that "sixth sense" thing again. I had never learned to recognize these things in other guys I was attracted to. I'd probably let many opportunities pass by hoping that the other fellow would notice me and make the first move.
"Matt, do you like guys your own age too? Or do you prefer older guys mostly?" Billy asked me.
I wrinkled my face because even though I had thought a lot about this, I had never discussed it with anyone else before. "I don't care." I said flatly.
"Really?" asked Billy. "I don't believe you. So how do you explain Rafael? You told me he was your 'type'."
Ok, I admitted it. I told him guessed I really did prefer guys older than me. Even now, I found few other 18 year olds attractive to me at all. I was still more into guys five or more years older than I was. Older guys just do something for me, even today, that I can't explain.
"That's OK" , admitted Billy. "My whole life I have always preferred guys younger than me. I guess we are a good fit that way."
I asked him why he thought this was, and it was a long time before he answered. "I don't know", he said. "Physically, I like guys who are thinner and smaller than me, I guess. I always have. But I suppose a part of me likes to nurture and care for someone who is younger and less experienced in life." He thought a while longer. "Sometimes I worry. I worry that I won't be happy in my life. But I worry about you, too, I worry that someone older will take advantage of you."
"Don't worry about me," I said. "I'll be OK. Just think about yourself."
He didn't answer, and within a few minutes we were cheek to cheek again slowly kissing and feeling each other, then rubbing each other's cocks at first playfully and then more purposefully while kissing deeply, still with no urgency, no rush or hurry, and after a while we both came again, nearly simultaneously while facing each other on the rumpled bed, groaning lustfully with our eyes closed, nose to nose, the tempo increased, the pressure built and squirting together our fists filled deliciously with the other's sticky seed. Afternoon had come and while the sunlight no longer spread across the room, it remained brightly lit from the open curtains. "Come on, let's take a shower together", suggested Billy, and I led him to the bath that adjoined my bedroom.
We stood under the warm falling water together, soaping each other all over, washing each other's bodies and hair from head to toe, pausing now and then just to kiss under the running water. I didn't want this to end.
In the shower, I had an idea. "Fuck me Billy?" I asked, almost pleading. Billy sort of froze, like he didn't know what to do.
"Matt, I have never done that," he said. "I don't know if I want to. What if I hurt you?" he asked.
"You won't hurt me," I nearly begged. "Please try it."
With the water still raining down on us he stood behind me and bent me over. He positioned his wet dick right over my butthole and I felt a shiver as he probed there.
"Are you sure, Matthew?" he said cautiously, his hands on my sides.
I practically cried with desire. "Yes, please" I said politely. It sounded sort of funny, but I gasped as I felt the pressure. Billy had coated his dick with soap suds and with very little pressure, and some help from me, it slid right in. Two thrusts later and it was in right up to the hilt. I had never felt anything like this before, I was so full of Billy and it felt so right.
Billy thrusted and I groaned as I felt like I was in heaven. The warm water, the feeling of a strong man holding my slim boyish body, the head of his cock nudging and probing my prostate with every deep thrust. Automatically, my cock stood erect again, all by itself and grabbing it I started rubbing for dear life.
"No, let me," said Billy. He slowly thrusted in and out of me, with one hand on my side while he gripped my soapy wet cock with his other hand. It wasn't long but I felt the pressure building, and when he heard me start to groan and felt me stiffen, he pushed all the way in and held it there.
I cried out feeling the most unbelievable ecstasy that I had ever felt. I was cumming yet again, for at least he fourth time that day and I watched the thick semen fly out of my stiff cock, some hitting the shower wall, mixing with the torrent of water that fell on us.
Billy pulled out and just held me under the raining water, kissing my open mouth. "I didn't come inside you", he said. "I want to be safe" This was just at the beginning of the AIDS scare, and truly had it been even a year later and I don't think we would have done this at all—but in our ignorant bliss I had been fucked for the very first time by a man I had known since I was just a kid, just a week before my eighteenth birthday. Billy insisted that it wasn't a real fucking since he didn't cum, so I didn't argue, but I am sure that was just something he needed to believe, him being married and all.
When we got
out of the shower, I stood totally still and let Billy dry me off, and then he
dried himself while I watched, and though I was beginning to get erect again
and he noticed, Billy said he had to go. He dressed quickly, accidentally (I
think) leaving his soiled undershirt under my bed. He asked me if he could have
pictures of me that were pinned on my bulletin board, one of me holding my
puppy in the back yard when I was 11, and one of my new high school graduation
photos. With a quick bear hug, he messed up my hair one final time, put on his
suit coat and was gone. "I'll see you again soon" he called back at
But I would not see him again.
He sent me a gift in the mail a couple of weeks later for my birthday, a boxed set of CDs by the Police. I went off to college far away from home, and while I was there I began to realize what different paths in life we had chosen, Billy and me.
Billy intended to live his life closeted and secretive, appearing as straight as an arrow on the outside, never disclosing a hint of his attraction to other guys, but by his actions behind closed doors I could not imagine he truly had any attraction to girls at all. He lived in a corporate world of neckties and numbers; sales and results: clearly to him looking good was more important than being good. I found this idea inherently distasteful... and dishonest. He had chosen his life's path and I had chosen mine. I had decided that as much as I enjoyed the sex with him, it was distracting and even confusing to me now as I was trying to find my own way. I purposely didn't communicate back with him because I knew it wouldn't take much for him to change my mind, and I wanted to avoid that from happening.
Now, more than ten years later I learn that he had two sons, spaced three years apart, and he is still married (I wonder if she knows yet?) and still lives in the town where we both grew up. He wrote to me twice while I was in college, and I didn't respond, at first because I didn't know what to say, but as time passed I just decided I didn't want to respond to him at all. I finally deleted his messages from my e-mail so I wouldn't even have a record of his address I might use in a moment of weakness.
I am 29 now and live in a different state. I have had several relationships with guys (yes, mostly older than me) but am not in one at present. They haven't all been pleasant, and one guy certainly did take advantage of me, but I've survived. I am out to my family and friends, and they were at first not thrilled about it, today they accept me.
Nobody who knows me has ever asked a single question about Billy and me, so I guess we kept it a pretty good secret all the years that it went on. And until today I've never discussed it with anyone else but you.
Billy and Me was written by Brad Healey. (firstname.lastname@example.org) Aside from changing some details to protect the characters' privacy, this story is true from my life. But there is a twist here that I will share with you...though it is told from Matthew's perspective, in this story the character Billy is actually me. Let me explain.
When I finished telling my life story here in "Growing Up Denying I was Gay"
I realized that there were still some parts of my tale that remained untold, and this is one of them. I wrote this story from Matthew's perspective to give it a different angle. "Matthew" is a very real person, and I'll tell you more about him. However, what you read in this story is all Matthew ever knew about me... and you, reader, know much more.
The first thing an astute reader will notice is that the math doesn't work- and I will simply say that in reality more than 13 years separated Matthew and Billy, not the four or five that is hinted in the story. The reason for this is quite simple. As originally written, the website where the story was to be submitted forbade stories involving a relationship between a 13 year old boy and a man in his late 20s.
Matthew was a painfully shy and very quiet boy. When I met him he looked very much like River Phoenix did in the film "Stand By Me"; same age, same size, same haircut, same voice, same look. He was an Eagle Scout, polite, clean-cut, gentle and handsome as could be. As I described, it took almost no time for me to conclude that he was as interested in me as I was in him. Our relationship progressed nearly exactly as I explained it.
While he liked to take roles on the stage and appeared to be daringly outgoing, in real life he never talked unless first spoken to. Only when directly questioned would Matthew offer what he thought or felt about anything. But when I asked him questions directly he always answered thoughtfully and I believe honestly. The views I detailed in the stories about our experiences and his feelings were all his, but getting them out of him required direct questioning that felt to me sometimes like I was interrogating him. But he never seemed to mind my probing, and always answered me when I asked, but without my lead I don't believe he would have offered a single word.
His decision to go far off to college and study theater concerned me nearly as much as it worried his father. True, he was a talented performer for a small town like ours, but he was nowhere near the level of aptitude that it takes to succeed in this field as a professional. When he went on to college he performed very poorly academically, succumbing to the wildness of college life and from being away from home for the first time. In response, his family actually moved from our small town to the far-away city his college was in so they could supervise him, a step that I found rather unbelievable and a further example of the extreme overprotective nature his mother demonstrated towards her precious only child.
Though maybe it was just her suspicious nature, I strongly suspect that Matthew's mother guessed something was going on between us, though she never asked him directly. His father was clueless and self absorbed, far more interested in his new Mercedes and beachfront summer home than he was in anything involving Matthew.
After he first briefly became upset with the news that I had gotten married, Matthew never mentioned it again. I vividly remember our phone conversation where I explained to him why I had gotten married, and at the end, hesitatingly and fearing his rejection, I asked him if we could still see each other just as before. He answered brightly, "of course!" sounding very surprised that I even needed to ask the question. Perhaps he compartmentalized our relationship as well as I did.
The three sexual encounters I detailed in these stories were not our only ones together. We had several more secret liaisons together while he was in high school that I omitted from the story. Keep in mind that the world was a different place decade or so ago, and boys simply did not "come out" in High School the way they do now. Then, I also introduced him to two other boys closer to his age (actually, both Kevin and Westy from the prior story) who were also secretly gay and both were delighted to meet another boy like themselves. This action somehow satisfied me by temporarily filling a deep hole in my own psyche, where as a young teenager I had been so terrified to be discovered as gay by other boys my age that all my homosexual behavior had been hidden and very shameful to me. I will note that all three boys have remained friends to this day, and I was pleased to hear that they had been able to experiment and learn together (experiences which Matthew detailed to me slowly and painfully as pulling teeth, one fact at a time, as I voyeuristically asked him one direct question after another about them.)
Hearing about their sexual experimentation together made me feel happy inside, not jealous at all, and I had often wondered why. I have since concluded that my affair with Matthew was not based on my loving him or desiring an exclusive relationship with him at all. Rather, it was somehow me acting out to amend the loss that I felt by being robbed of the opportunity to have had a relationship with another boy myself when I was his age. I was not in love with Matthew; instead I was in love with the idea that a boy could love another and not be ashamed of it.
I hope that no one feels cheated that it was "Billy" and not Matthew who wrote these stories. I'd hopefully suggest that if Matthew read these stories he would agree that they ring true. He and I are friends on Facebook, he lives far away and is gay and "out" and still as handsome as can be, much like River Phoenix would have probably looked at 30 if he had not sadly died so young. We don't talk much, mostly because he never liked to write and obviously still doesn't, but I know enough that my mind rests easy that he did not feel at all abused by our experiences together.
I have said that there are some stories I have wanted to tell that I'm not particularly proud of. This is one of them. Looking back, marrying a girl as a way to solve my personal problems with my sexual orientation is something that makes me wince in hindsight. Now that you know the whole story, you may want to go back and revisit these tales. You certainly have more insight into "Billy" than Matthew ever did.
All my best, Brad Healey
Disclaimer: I will remind you that this is a site dedicated to erotic fiction. All the people places and events described here should be considered fanciful recreation, for the sake of protecting the characters.