Walking down the steps my mind was at war with itself. My two personalities were screaming at each other. I have always had debates in my head. I envy those who know what they want or know what must be done without hesitation. I was never that lucky. Every decision was a WWE match between my ears. Indecision was my middle name. Mostly the internal argument was between what part of me said was the right and proper thing to do and what I wanted to do. It was like having my Irish catholic grandmother in one ear and a drunken frat brother in the other.
I always thought of myself as mostly invisible. I wasn't fat, but I certainly wasn't in shape. I wasn't hard to look at, but I didn't stand out in a crowd either. My raging inferiority complex usually left me in the back of the room, at the end of the bar or on the edge of any social activity. The only thing that made me even remotely different was I was gay -- in denial -- but definitely gay. I didn't think of myself as gay in those days. It was just a phase I told myself. Since I didn't do well with women, I was having gay sex to get by until SHE came along. The list of rationalizations was extensive, and all carefully crafted to shield myself from a simple fact -- I was gay.
All my gay sex had happened in glory holes mostly. I experimented as a teen, like so many do. When I got into my early 20s I discovered video booths with holes in the walls. Fingers appeared in the dark, my cock went through the hole and a warm wet mouth consumed it. I came and left. Simple, uncomplicated and unfulfilling. I sucked my first cock when the guy in the booth next to me sucked me for a second then he pulled off. I saw the light in his booth as he left and then a quiet knock on my door. I let him in. Rather than sinking to his knees he gently pressed me to my knees. He undid his zipper and there was a big, hard cock in front of me. I froze but his hands urged me forward. I was both afraid of denying him, he was mature and strong and looked serious, and I wanted to take it in. I opened my mouth and he slowly took my face. In a few minutes I tasted a flood in my mouth. He pulled out, I spit his cum on the floor and fled. I was nauseated at what I had done. But that nausea quickly turned to fantasy for me.
Having had a sample of what it's like to please a man to orgasm I began to go back to the booths to suck rather than be sucked. I became brave and went into booths with other men. I liked the feeling of their hands on my head. Late one night I was kneeling and sucking when his hands lifted me, looked me in the eye and kissed me. My first gay kiss.
"Will you come home with me?" he asked
"yes" was all I could muster.
I don't know why I said yes but in retrospect it was bound to happen eventually.
I followed him to his apartment. He took me to his bed and for the first time I laid with a man. He was gentle, kind and passionate. He made love to me rather than just raw sex. And he took my cherry. I had fantasized about it but he made it happen. He made me cum as he came inside me. As soon I realized what happened I got up and fled. I didn't get a phone number, so I never could call him to apologize. But that night was a life changing event for me. But I rebuilt my rationalizations and for the next couple of years I kept my gay events to a minimum and anonymous.
Those rationalizations were being heavily tested at that moment. The steps I was descending went to the best-known gay bar in town. Pegasus was the so well known that it was a punch line of a fag joke.
"What the fuck do you know -- you go to Pegasus" would always draw a laugh.
It was Halloween. I was drunk. A few friends and I had hit a bar or two on the night. I had not dressed. I am terrible with costumes. I simply lacked the imagination to come up with something I was comfortable with, not that my insecurity limited my options
On this Halloween night after the guys headed home, I headed back to my car. I passed under the Pegasus sign -- and heard the thumping loud music, paused, then walked by. I turned around and walked past again, slowly and then went past one more time. No -- just go home I thought. I was almost back to my car when I turned for the final time and stood at the top of the steps. Descending the steps to Pegasus was what happens when rationalizations fold under the weight of alcohol. Uncertain and terrified of being discovered I still wanted to go in. I needed to go in. I really wanted a man like that one I was with on that magnificent night. I screwed up my courage, opened the door and entered.
I paid a cover charge and walked into the bar. The music was pounding. Disco loud and proud. It was dark and hard to see. I had never been in a gay bar before and I didn't have a clue what I was doing. It was packed. To my delight it was packed with men in drag. It seems Halloween in the crossdressers national holiday. Most of them were over the top drag queens. A few were serious crossdressers and one or two might have been real women.
I squeezed into a place at the bar and waited for a bar tender. I looked around and saw men look me over. Up and down and then just look away, a reaction I was used to from women but a bit disappointing here. Once I got my drink, I did what I always do when I am uncomfortable, I wandered to the end of the bar and just hung but I did have a good view of the dance floor. The only real source of light in the room the dance floor was lit with colored spots and a couple of disco balls and it was mobbed. So many tall drag queens and men in leather. Like watching the ocean, it was always moving but never really changing.
As tunes ended some walked off the floor and others dived in. During one such change I saw a guy in over the top 70's drag. Tall, with killer legs in platform heels, black fish net stockings, a short skirt and a loose silk top with lots of lace. Heavy makeup under a wild blond afro style wig and rainbow hat. He was impossible to miss. He looked at me and I turned my eyes away. I didn't know gay protocols and didn't know how to handle it so I just hid best I could. He went to the bar but a few minutes later, as I was looking at the dance floor he appeared in front of me -- right in front of me. Looking right at me and smiling.
"Brandon" he shouted at me.
"Jim" I replied.
He leaned in for a quick kiss on my cheek and I am sure I blushed. We tried to chat, but it was like trying to have a conversation in a steel mill during a disco show -- impossible. He took my hand and found a corner where we might be heard. We proceeded on some awkward conversation, but I did tell him he looked really sexy. He smiled and twirled for me and put on his best coquettish smile. After about 20 minutes of shouting at each other he took my hand and headed to the door. Like some small child with naïve faith I went with him. We got outside, and he said:
"That's so much better. Would you like to come home with me?"
I was totally taken aback by the abruptness of the offer. In better light he was a good-looking guy. Killer blue eyes, handsome face or as best as I could tell under all that makeup. Tall and well built.
"Sure" I stammered in reply.
I had had been with men before, in video booths, glory holes really. Short, sordid encounters without words. At first, they wanted to suck me. I was thrilled with the idea and the pleasure. One evening a man who I expected to get on his knees instead pushed me to my knees. I took his cock in my mouth and in a few moments, he came, without warning. I tasted his cum and tried to pull off but he held my head in place and shoved his cock deep. I swallowed reflexively. He zipped up and left. I fled and was nauseated at the thought of what had just happened. As the weeks went by the memory became what I masturbated to. One night I met a guy at the glory holes who offered to take me back to his place, and I went. That was the first time I had real sex with a man. Kissing, foreplay and anal, me on top. I never knew his name but that night was a gateway event.
