A short one-off story about my first male-male encounter. All characters are over 18.
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I've always had some sense of my bisexuality, but I couldn't say when I first began to fantasize about being with another man. It was probably at the same time when most of us tend to begin playing outside of our zone of personal experiences in all kinds of ways -- in college. I had kissed a few guys -- once in high school and a few times in college -- but these happened in a more joking way with my other friends in the punk rock crowd as kind of an audacious, boundary-pushing, obnoxious way to freak out homophobes and narrow-minded people at parties. More trolling than anything else. None of those experiences had done anything for me.
Even when I did begin to find myself fantasizing about men, these machinations didn't really involve kissing. If anything, the thought of kissing another guy grossed me out for a long time -- it was too intimate, too mushy. No, my early fantasies about the same sex were purely animal and erotic, focusing on a desire to serve as a giver of pleasure to a male.
I'd close my eyes while jerking off in the shower and imagine an anonymous guy stepping into the steam with me. I would lather up his body and feel his cock harden in my hand while his hands explored my body in response. Eventually, my fantasy evolved. I thought about getting on my knees in front of this stranger and licking his hard cock, plunging it into my mouth and tasting his cum as it pulsed onto my tongue. When I'd cum, I'd lick my own pearly saltiness from my hand and wonder if it was what another man's would taste like.
I was in my early-20s when I finally decided to find out. I was 23, and it was my first year out of college. I'd gotten a job working in a library at a very famous, very historic university. My work involved spending large portions of my day in the stacks, tracking down books and research materials, and within a few months I'd gotten to know the cavernous, labyrinth-like building very intimately. On my breaks, I'd go off and re-visit those dark, tucked away corners and nooks that I'd discovered, and fantasize about rendezvousing with someone there. Sometimes that someone in my daydreams would be female, sometimes male.
As I gave more thought to seriously exploring the possibility of being with a man, I came up with some ground rules for myself. It would have to be anonymous, or close to it. I didn't want to hook up with anyone I was friends with or would run into around town on a regular basis. I was still uncertain at this time about my sexual fluidity, and I didn't want to make anything known to my own social circle. My next rule, I didn't want it to be at my apartment. If I had someone over and lost my nerve, I didn't want to have to deal with any small talk or awkwardness as I tried to get them out of my home. Not to mention, meeting anonymous strangers could be dangerous, so best not to invite anyone into my bedroom, yet.
I spent some time searching the internet for any message board posts or Craigslist posts (yes, that's how long ago this was) about gay hookup spots in my city. There was a park that was mentioned, where guys would engage in anonymous hookups in a particular spot in the woods. So, I altered the course of my daily running route so as to cut through this park. I noticed plenty of guys coming and going, but they were all older, sad-looking men. I next stopped by a few restrooms on campus that I'd heard about, but these were all too public with a high risk of getting caught.
That's when the idea really crystalized in my mind: the library. If I could arrange an encounter in one of the secret hiding places I'd found on my journeys around the book stacks, that would be the perfect place. The only issue was that it limited my potential partners to students, faculty, or university staff, as anyone wanting to enter the library would need an ID. But, I figured, maybe that was a good thing. I was young, inexperienced, and nervous. Maybe the ideal partner would be in a similar position.
I created a M4M Casual Encounters post on Craiglist: 'Anyone ever hookup in the library stacks?' And waited.
I got a barrage of responses on that first day. Most of them were ineligible as they weren't students or the like. Some that were students started out with promise. We traded some fantasies and scenarios back and forth, but they went dark when I asked to exchange pictures of our bodies with no face. But a few of them did send pictures.
The excitement I felt when receiving and seeing those photos were how I knew that this had to happen. I'd open an email from someone I'd been chatting back and forth with, and be presented with a closeup shot of a long, veiny white cock with a bulbous head. Or, I thick, snake-like black prick thrusting up at the camera. I salivated over these photos, I'd stroke myself and imagine how any of them would feel in my hand, or taste in my mouth. However, when I tried to arrange a meeting, they all flaked out one-by-one.
It went on like this for a few days, the number of responses diminishing with each passing day. Then, almost two weeks later, I got an email from a senior named 'S.'
"Sounds hot." His email read. "I've always wondered about that place myself. Do you know of anywhere to meet?"
I replied back that I did, and that I've been wanting to go down on a guy somewhere in the library for a while. I knew the perfect place, down a dark aisle in an un-used wing of the library, where I could be waiting on my knees for him to come find me.
He replied back with a picture of his cock. It was similar to the half dozen other photos I'd received, but something about it was different. It may have just been that this one felt right. It wasn't as large as some of the others, about 6", but it was an otherwise perfectly sculpted white cock with a beautifully chiseled circumcized head. At the tip of his urethra lips was a little, glistening drop of pre-cum.
I had to have it. I needed to feel it, savor it in my mouth, lick the length of it, and swallow everything I could wring from it. I told him so.
"Have you ever done this before?" He asked.
"No." I replied back in honesty.
"Me either." He said.
We arranged our meeting for a Friday. The library was quietest on Friday afternoons, with most students done with any studying and getting into their weekends. I described how to get to the secluded spot I had in mind, and told him I would be there at 3:15pm.
At 3:05, I took my afternoon break and made my way up into the remote wing, which was through a door located down at the end of a narrow aisle tucked along the side of the building. I stepped through the door into the main aisle of the wing and listened. One good thing about this cavernous space was how well sound traveled, we would hear anyone approaching with more than enough time to escape. But just then it was silent, all clear.
The exact spot was at the very end of the wing, around the back of the last bookshelf, where there was a narrow, dark alcove, almost pitch black, where a couple boxes were stored. As I made my way towards it, I felt as if my heart might beat a hole through my chest. I'd been nervous all day, my heart racing as the hours ticked by towards our agreed time. Just before I came around the end of the shelf to the alcove, I panicked.
I can't do this, I thought, my skin going numb with anxiety. I paced a few times up and down the aisle, taking deep breaths. Finally, I forced myself forward, tucking into the alcove and getting down on my knees to face him as he would come me. I settled myself with a few deep breaths as I waited and listened for the sound of approaching footsteps. But...nothing came.
I checked my phone: 3:20. I opened my email to find an unread message from him.
"Are you nervous?" He had written.
"Yes." I said. "Are you coming?"
