I couldn't believe I was really doing this. Here I was, a straight guy on his way to let a gay guy make me suck his dick, and probably worse.
I guess I'd better back up a step first. I've always been fascinated by the idea of sexual dominance and submission. Not the real heavy whips and chains and pissing and leather stuff. That's fine for those who are into it, but it's not for me. But I had a dominant girlfriend once who liked to do things like stuff my dirty underwear in my mouth, leave me tied to the bed for hours at a time, or make my pull down my pants where someone might see me. I eventually had to break up with her because of her drinking, but the sex was great. One time while she was spanking me with a ping-pong paddle she threatened to bring in a gay guy and make me suck him off. She wasn't serious, but ever since then the idea has stuck with me. I masturbate thinking about it. Some would say that wanting to suck dick means I'm gay, or at least bi, and if anyone wants to call me that it's fine with me, but I think of myself as straight. I like sex with women. I would never go into a gay bar, meet a guy and go back home with him to make love. But I do like being submissive, and for a straight guy, sucking a cock is the ultimate degradation. I was intrigued by the thought of being forced to do it. I started exploring gay d/s on the internet. It took a while, but I eventually met a guy in a chat room who seemed to be just what I was looking for. We exchanged a long series of emails and in time swapped pictures and contact information. His name was Kyle and he was a year younger than me. He was not bad looking and in good shape, a little bigger than me, but not a muscle-bound hulk or anything. He lived less than an hour away.
Eventually we decided it was time to go ahead and meet. We established a number of ground rules ahead of time. There would be no kissing, serious pain, or water sports. I would do whatever he wanted, but we had a safe word which he swore to respect, and another signal (four grunts) in case I was unable to speak, which was likely. The most sensitive subject was fucking. I had never had anything bigger than a finger up my ass, and I wasn't at all turned on by the thought of being fucked, but Kyle insisted that it wouldn't be much fun for him if he couldn't fuck me, so I agreed.
Driving to his place I was more frightened than I had ever been in my life, and I was held up at gunpoint once. I tried not to think about the horrible things that can happen to people who hook up on the internet. I felt I knew him pretty well from his emails, but things are never as they appear on the internet. I thought, "What if he sent me somebody else's picture and he turns out to be some fat ugly old queen?" I was even more afraid about my first encounter with a man. I wondered what it would feel like having a dick in my mouth. I wondered what cum tastes like. I had never even tasted my own. I was half hoping he would forget about fucking me, or I could talk him out of it, but deep down I knew that wasn't going to happen. At one point I pulled off the freeway to turn around and go back. I sat in the car in a parking lot for about ten minutes before I decided to go ahead with it and live out my fantasy.
I pulled up to his place. It was a nice low-rise apartment building in a fashionable neighborhood. "How could anything bad happen here?" I thought. I stood for a moment outside his door, taking deep breaths. I rang the bell. He opened the door and greeted me with a warm smile. He was the same guy as in the picture, and if anything looked better in person. I stepped in and he shook my hand.
"This is my roommate Josh," he said, gesturing to another guy. "He'll be joining us." The door had scarcely closed behind me and I was already in for much more than I bargained for. Nobody ever said anything about there being two of them. I looked at Josh. He was a good-looking guy, a little small but very fit. (Do all gay guys live at the gym?) "Josh knows the safe word," Kyle added. I interpreted this as a subtle way of saying that I didn't have to go along with the three-way if I didn't want to. I could always say the safe word. That made me feel a little more comfortable. I didn't say anything, so I guess that meant I was OK with it. I felt like a passenger on a white-water rafting trip. I was being carried along by a force way outside my control.
