The sky started clouding over as I found the cafe called 'Chances Are' down on Santa Monica Boulevard and pulled in. In 1974, I was nineteen, and had found a man in a swinger's ad magazine, and was here to meet him.
Inside, it was different than any other restaurant I frequented. The clientele was all men, not a woman in sight. I felt a shiver of guilt and fear as I waded into these unknown waters, looking around for a man in a black suede jacket with a large red book. That would be Gary.
A shiver ran through me as I approached him. Was I really going to cross that forbidden line? I felt nervous. I was scared, but ready. I thought how appropriate that this meeting was at a place called 'Chances Are', because chances were, I was going to get his dick in my mouth that night.
"Gary?" I asked quietly.
"Hi Bill," he answered. "I was afraid you wouldn't show."
"I have to admit, it was a little iffy at times... but here I am. I'm not sure how this works."
It'll work any way you want it to," he said, his clear blue eyes searching mine.
Steeling my will, I felt strangely brave and pulled my chair even closer. I casually reached over and placed my hand on his thigh, gave a timid little half-rub and pulled it back. I immediately wished I hadn't, but I had no idea what to do. He reached over and put his hand on my thigh, and feeling reassured, I ran my fingers over his.
"We can go as slow or as fast as you want," he continued, his eyes piercing mine much the way I had always looked at a woman.
We talked a bit, and I knew I wanted him.
I stammered out, "Do you want to get out of here?"
He smiled. "My place isn't far."
It had started raining when I left my car there and he drove us to his house in a nice quiet little neighborhood in the hills. Later, when the "fog of fag" lifted from my brain I realized how stupid this was: if he was a maniac killer, I was now at his mercy. Obviously it turned out okay, as I am still alive to recount the joyous events of that evening. In the moment, I was resisting the urge to take out his cock while we rode. I really wanted to feel in the flesh what I had caressed through his pants at the cafe. My cock stiffened as I looked at him.
His place was secluded, up a long driveway lush with trees and greenery. It was a beautiful, private setting, perfect for my first intimacy with a man.
I could feel myself becoming bolder as we got out. I waited for him to come around the car, and embraced him. He kissed me ferociously on the mouth. Hungrily I wrapped my tongue around his, reveling in the rough texture of his masculine cheek rubbing against my own.
So different from a woman's face, and it excited me. I was kissing a man -- smelling him, feeling him. He held my face in his hands as he explored my willing mouth. I caressed his broad shoulders, allowing my hands to wander down to the small of his back. I clenched his belt for a moment before sliding down to cup his tight firm ass.
My cock was already twitching in my pants when he rubbed his hand down across my crotch. By the time he undid the top button, I was hard. His tongue deep in my mouth, he tilted me back slightly as his hand slithered in, caressing my dick through my underwear. It seemed that our roles were becoming clearly defined: I was the one who was going to be dancing backwards. I surrendered, wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing him with heightened vigor, savoring his lips.
I let an oddly feminine moan escape my lips, vibrating around his tongue, before I drew back a tad and whispered, low and breathy, into his ear.
"We should go inside."
He clasped my hand and led me in. As the door closed behind us, he grabbed me, kissing me again, harder and deeper, as if to atone for the interruption. I couldn't get my mouth open wide enough for his searching tongue. I sucked on it - hard. But there was something else I wanted to suck on even more.
Right there in the entry way, I dropped to my knees before him. Undid his fly and pulled his pants down. It was a fucking dream among dreams. A silky black thong outlined by his hardening meat. I kissed it through his underwear. Rubbed it. His cock was a little longer than mine, maybe eight inches or so, and he got even harder. Both of us did.
I reached in, held his stiff rod in my hand. I pulled it out the side of the front panel of his thong and peeled the fabric back, exposing his balls as well.
I didn't do any foreplay: I wanted the main event too much for that. Later in my cocksucking career, I would learn more sensual techniques, but for now, I dove right in, slipping my lips over the head of his cock and taking it halfway down. I just about came right there. Finally, a man's dick in my mouth. Playing the fag. No, not playing: being.
I fucking loved it. Warm meat dancing on my tongue. It felt good. I sucked, wanting to savor the flavor of my first homosexual encounter. I was being a very, very naughty boy.
I sucked like I had learned in porn films I had seen at the Pussycat Theater. I did what I liked done to me. I gently cupped his balls while I sucked hard on just the head before easing and sliding halfway down, mindful of my teeth. Gary moaned and thrust his hips, fucking my mouth, gently at first, but spurred on by my soft moans, more insistently. I reached up, felt for his large, calloused hands, and brought them to the sides of my head.
i covered my teeth with my lips and tilted my neck to allow him to thrust with all the wild abandon he could muster, and he pounded my face with cock. The tip of his dick consistently breached the top of my throat, and I found that I was riding the wave of my gag reflex: never strong enough to start the throwing up process, and with the speed he was fucking my mouth, it actually allowed me to keep the reflex at bay.
This truly was on the job training. Take a breath, suppress the gag reflex, hold and repeat. Somewhere in my scattered thoughts, I took comfort in the knowledge that I would be able to learn to deep throat a cock like Linda Lovelace in the movie that had named the practice (I wished I'd had a clit in my throat).
I absolutely loved it. He held my head like a melon and fucked away with grunting, masculine glee. I didn't feel submissive or used in any bad way, but more like 'I'm a player here - I can do this, and he's loving it!' I experimented with constricting and relaxing every part of my oral cavity that was caressing his dick, and quickly found a rhythm that had him gasping.
