The rest of the summer was a summer of new awakenings in my life. I had met the love of my life and he was all that mattered. Martin had exceeded all of my wildest fantasies. Growing up gay and having to hide my feelings was hard on me. I had bottled up my dreams, fantasies and emotions deep inside. I was constantly depressed. I truly believe to this day that the reason I always fought with depression during my youth was because I could never really be my true self.
Don't get me wrong. It was still 1976 and there was still only so much of my true self that I could act on. However living on that farm for one more summer with Martin allowed me the privacy to be me. Martin and I spent that summer exploring not just our sexuality. We were exploring a first love. Only this love wasn't a traditional guy, girl love. It was a love that we both knew was forbidden.
I had learned to hide my feelings growing up so for me I was ahead of Martin, even though he was four years older than me. I had always liked men. Growing up I was always attracted to guys. I loved the way they looked and how they behaved.
When my friends were going after girls I wouldn't imagine being the guy. I would watch them trying to be cool and smooth to catch the girl. I would listen to them working on their lines, then watch them approach the girls. Waiting to see if they scored or crashed and burned. Then listening to them describe how they interacted with each girl as they were on their little quests to conquer them.
I acted like I was interested in how they got the girl but deep down inside I always imagined myself as the girl. I imagined myself as the object of a guy's attention. I would fantasize about the guy trying to impress me to win my affections.
Some of you, at this point, have come to your own conclusion that I wanted to be a girl. That somehow I didn't appreciate being a guy. To those of you that have come to that conclusion I just want you to know that you're wrong. I didn't then and through all the years of my life have never wanted to be anything other than what I am. A man.
What I wanted was a man that wanted me. What I wanted was to have a man that I could satisfy. A man that I could attend to and meet his needs. I wanted a man to meet my needs. But the role that I had with Martin was the role that was required and I gladly accepted it.
I was in love with my first crush and I was smitten. But despite my feelings deep down inside my conflict was that role. Martins insistence to calling my asshole his pussy through me off from the very beginning. But in the heat of passion and his cock shoved deep inside of me it was his pussy. I could care less what he called it at that moment. I gladly would go along with it.
For Martin, on the other hand, I would come to learn that for all his good looks and as well hung as he was, relationships were not his strength. Martin would always find a way to fuck up his regular relationships with every girl/woman he had ever been with. Martin never, ever thought of being with a man. Then came me.
Martin had convinced himself that even though I had a cock I was very sweet. I was also very pretty. The conversations that we would have were always pleasant. At the time I had no clue that I was being feminine around him. I was only behaving like a love sick puppy. I would fawn all over him when I was around him and in his mind I was no different than a girl
That's how he was able to let his guard down and allow his affections for me to turn sexual. At first it was clear. I was to behave a certain way and I should not expect him to ever touch my guy parts. But a funny thing happened on his way to crazy. Martin fell for me just as hard as I fell for him. But the conflict was always there.
As far as Martin was concerned he was not gay. As far as I was concerned I was a man... with a cock, not a pussy.
I started visiting Martin on a regular basis after that wonderful Saturday night. I would make sure that my grandfather was fed and my duties at home were all taken care of. Then after my grandfather would fall asleep I would head to the workers quarters. To Martins place.
There I would tend to Martin's needs. Arriving around ten o'clock in the evening and staying till one or two in the morning. The majority of the those visits Martin would fuck me silly after I sucked his cock. Martin would bang away on my hole for hours at a time. We were both young so after blowing that first load getting hard and cumming multiple more times a night was never an issue for either of us.
The first week was delicate because my asshole was still sore most of the time. By the second week I was able to try different positions and Martin could be a bit more aggressive. By the third week Martin knew that he could experiment more and fuck me harder. By the time August rolled around Martin could bottom out my hole and pound me mercilessly and I loved it.
Outside of the bedroom I accepted my roll. I would pick up after him and make him his late night snacks. Watch television on the couch with him, waiting on him hand and foot. I liked the couch because at any given moment I could go from watching a show to having my face shoved into Martins crotch getting a mouth full of cock. I loved sucking his cock.
I also started going out in public with Martin from time to time. We had to be on our best guy behavior playing the part of a couple of young guys just hanging out checking the girls out. I would eventually get jealous and on the way home act like a total, for lack of a better word, bitch.
This would lead to Martin getting mad and giving me a punish fuck when we would get home. A punish fuck is known as a grudge fuck today, I think. It was his way of getting me to stop being a bitch and him putting me in my place by fucking me really hard. Once I figured out what I was getting by using that behavior I would act out more. Find new ways to misbehave to win my punish fuck.
