The First Time

Author's Note: The following story contains a scene of homosexual sex between two men. If this is not your thing, then please move along. Special thanks to LushTitles for editing this story.

Interlude:

Now I know what your thinking, I know because I thought it too. How the hell did I get from being straight to enjoying what men did for me and to me? What made me wish to be adored? What made me enjoy their praise? Well, hopefully you are up to speed and now fully understand.

You see I had been conflicted through all of it. I was scared and horrified and yet I had been turned on, turned on like nothing I had ever experienced. I was still scared, you understand, but I wasn't afraid. When you have had something, something you thought you would never do, never enjoy, it's quite a mind blowing experience when you realize you did. Once you do, you know, you need it again. That is what compelled me.

Wednesday couldn't arrive soon enough. Sure there was apprehension, of course there was, but there was also excitement. I won't lie, I stroked myself every day. I felt shame, not at the time, but afterwards, after I had come, it surged through me. I couldn't believe the things I was suddenly thinking about. The things he had said. Him exploring my ass with his gentle fingers, maybe his tongue. Making me moan as he told me the things he wanted to do to me. As I lifted my ass thinking to myself, what would his tongue feel like? What would his cock feel like? Another man in my mouth as he made me submit, as he adored me and made me worship him. I thought of that continuously, amongst other dirty things.

If I thought the week before had dragged, this was worse. This time, it was only five days and my god how it wound me up. There were moments of fear, moments of trepidation, but there were also moments when my mind would run riot.

I recall one evening I lay on my bed, on my front, my hands easing into my trousers and jockeys, thinking of him pulling down my jeans gently and undressing me. In my mind, he was telling me what he was doing, what he was going to do to me. I gripped my ass and pulled it, like he had done, as I thought about him doing that. Soft and cautious, pushing and pulling my cheeks together and apart, making me feel my asses' need slowly manifest itself. That soft alluring feeling, that I had felt the first time. It an oddly relaxing feeling, and yet exciting. I tried to make it feel as he had done, scared to touch myself, shameful and yet, strangely enjoying the feeling of my ass being played with, toyed with.

Tentatively, I eased my finger up against myself, cautious, feeling and exploring as I felt the soft pangs of pleasure tingling through me. I held one of my cheeks to the side, almost slut-fully. I bit my bottom lip, feeling a slight uncomfortable tension, but needing more, needing to feel it more up against me. I could feel my body, confused and unwilling to tell me to continue, but my ass willed me, the excitement made me continue, as my finger eased up against myself, wishing it was Mike that was doing this to me, or instructing me to do it, in front of him, for him.

Oh my god.

My cock swelled and hardened at a rapid speed, as I played it out in my own dirty, private fantasy, fingering myself, tentative, mentally hearing him instruct me. In my mind I could hear his praise, telling me I was doing so well. That I was making him hard. That he wanted to use his tongue for me, in me. That he wanted to fuck me.

With ease, I grinded my hips, caressing my cock against the bed as my finger began to push lightly up against me. I was desperate to show him what I could do when adored, coerced. I sighed a quiet breath, full of need, pretending it was his fingers or his tongue teasing me, as my ass rode up, sensually hungry, begging for attention, curious to know what it would feel like. It felt a bit painful, more uncomfortable actually, but also weird and strangely satisfying. Flat on the bed, I lifted my knees, parallel with my chest, presenting my ass, like a true slut and unafraid. Carefully, I probed slightly, pushing against my ass, bumping my finger up against myself, while I grinded my hips, rocking back in a slow rhythm. My cock lightly rubbed the bed. My foreskin eked back and forth, mildly teasing myself. My finger rigid, began to push against me. I was pretending Mike was watching me, instructing me.

Go on. Do it. Tell me what you want me to do, Mike.

I tried to stop. God help me I tried to stop, but I couldn't. Part of me was terribly ashamed, but at the same moment part of me desperately needed this. I had never touched myself there, but in time the fear eased with every added little pressure. Gritting my teeth, I pushed forward, winching a little at the pain, but also pushing through it, because simply, it felt good. I had to, if I was going to obey him. Yes, there was an uncomfortable feeling. Yes, it was a little sore, but it also felt

good

. I lay there, on my front, breathing shallow, my breath ragged, holding my finger just inside me.

I tried to wiggle my finger a little, mimicking what he had done, as he might do again. I tried rocking my finger back and forth, but the truth was, it just lacked something. The one important element that I needed, it lacked him

I knew I was aroused by the way he talked to me and how he treated me. I wasn't attracted to him per se. I mean, don't misunderstand me, he was good-looking but that is not what made me

let

him. That wasn't the main reason. The real reason, the only reason, was his

words

, his actions. What I

felt,

as he used his hands and his mouth on me was all due to that.

Words and actions.

Care

.

I realized, with my finger inside me, I needed instruction. I needed to be coerced. I needed to be told what to do, to feel adored and admired. I needed praise. That is what made me submissive, that's what made me want to

give

, being adored.

You can't know what it's like being the strong one all the time around women, being the alpha, to be

firm

. To lead and guide another person. To fuss over them. To be selfless. To focus on them as if they are the only thing in the world. But to have that light switched off suddenly and be fumbling in the dark was stimulating, even if it was at it's core, all reversed. Being praised, being adored, it felt simple, easy. I didn't need to control myself. I didn't need to hide my feelings. It was obvious what he felt. I could see it. I could

feel

it. I felt flattered and it made me want it all the more.

I know some may find that difficult to understand. How can you suck or want a guy to fuck you, if you don't find him attractive, if you don't get hard or aroused seeing him?

But if you have ever slept with someone who just had that

something

that made you, that compelled you, and that simply excited you, where it never even enters you mind to say no and stop it, you might understand. For me, it was his soft words and praise. It was his gentle actions. His manner and the way he slowly guided me, patient. Most importantly, it was his care and attention. There's the old cliché, that actions speak louder than words. The bare truth is, they are both potent. Together, they can be devastating.

To be honest, I enjoyed being adored and I enjoyed being praised. It made me do things I thought I could never do. Never enjoy.

It was like being there again, on the couch, him in front of me, his hand held out. I needed to be told what to do and to be guided. I needed to see Mike's arousal. I needed to feel it and taste it

.

I needed to be taught.

I withdrew my finger, trying not to moan, in case my flatmates heard me. My face pushed down, against the pillow, I breathed out a drawn-out and muffled, needy moan.

-0-

I don't have to sell my soul

He's already in me

I don't need to sell my soul

He's already in me

I wanna be adored

I wanna be adored

I Wanna Be Adored, The Stone Roses

-0-

The First Time Pt. 03

After work on Wednesday, I got home and proceeded to get ready. I shaved my face and showered, taking special care

there

. You know what I mean. I thought long and hard about what I would wear. Should it be causal, or perhaps flirty? A tight top hugging my slim body, the body he had already seen and tight jeans, flaunting my ass for his attention, an ass he said I had no right having? Showing him what I offered, that I was open and that I was no longer afraid. I'd never felt attractive, not really, but someone desiring you, someone

hard

for you can change that. You can see it physically, you can hear it verbally in their words and feel it in their touch. Their desire emanates from them, from every pour and every fibre of their being. Suddenly, I felt ten feet tall, his admiration for me making

me

hard, making me feel desired. It felt strange. It felt back to front, topsy-turvy and inside out, not in a bad way you understand, but in a good way.

The thing is, when I went out or on a date or on the pull, I always went out smart, not overly smart, but presentable. Today was different, I was dressed to excite him, tight slim t-shirt, jeans that showed my ass. I was being blatant about flaunting myself for him and I wanted him to become hard seeing me. I wanted to be worthy. Today, as I gazed upon my reflection, I was thinking of what Mike would be thinking as he looked at me. I was thinking, what would he say, what would he do?

I walked to his house with my heart beating faster, the apprehension building inside me. I was shaking, shaking with fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of what I already knew and fear of what he might do, what he

could

do. I knew he could easily hurt me. I knew he could do anything he wanted if he got me to a state I couldn't say no. I recalled how I felt last week. I recalled, those guys in the club. The monster inside me, baying and crying for attention, it made me do it, it meant I could do anything when adored. I knew that now. I knew the risks and it scared me, but I also had to

know

. I stood outside his door for ten minutes, plucking up the courage to press the buzzer. Several times I went to press it, only to draw my finger back, horrified at what was happening.

I tried to calm myself down, breathing deep and slow. My finger toyed with the idea of pressing it. But my finger made up my mind as it pushed it. I swallowed a hard gulp of anxiety, shaking as I waited, patiently, the nerves making my tummy knot and tighten.

I heard the handset click and then I heard his voice.

"Hell-o?"

I paused for a fraction of a second, my nervousness building inside me. My mouth trembled as I spoke.

"M-Mike, I-It's St-Steve..."

There was a soft chuckle on the line as he released a gentle sigh.

"Hi, Steve. I have been waiting for you. I've been rather restless thinking about you. Do you want to come up?"

He was restless. He wants me. He wants to-

I stood there, again frozen. He was so confident

.

As odd as it sounds I think it might have been easier if he'd just buzzed me in. I wouldn't have been declaring what I wanted him to do to me. I wouldn't be admitting it. But he had me, had me so I had to acknowledge it, had to say it.

"Y-Yes."

The door buzzed, it clicked and opened as I pushed it. My legs were like jelly as I ascended the stairs. I gripped the banister, in case I collapsed, my heart was thumping a maddening beat in my chest. I felt breathless and shaky. I looked up, tentative, to see if he was on the landing, but he wasn't.

Was he going to greet me at the door and put me at ease? Or was he going to make me knock? I didn't know what to expect. Actually, I didn't know

what

to do. Was he expecting me to walk in? Would the door be shut? Would he be hard, right there, or would it be like the last time? Would he begin toying with me, making me aroused?

Did I say it would have been easier if he just buzzed me in with no words on the intercom? If I did, I was lying. I felt terrible. My mind was frantic, overclocked. I was scared, but needing to feel what I felt at the weekend, and the week before last. I gripped the bannister, hauling myself up the stairs. It was only two flights, but by the time I made it to the second landing I was shaking, shaking with nerves and doubts. What if he hurt me?

I would never hurt you.

I saw his door. It was open and ajar, inviting. I realized he wanted me to consent. He wanted me to come to him, wanted me to obey. He wanted me to walk in and show him I could conquer any fear I had. He wanted me to accept it. My shaking hand eased the door open, showing him I wasn't afraid. My actions, by being here, proving it.

"Hi, Steve," Mike said in a sensual, smooth tone.

He was standing there, in a red dressing gown, looking at me, leaning against the door frame of his bedroom, with a casual air about him. He looked me over with the sense that he possessed all the time in the world. I felt extremely vulnerable and exposed. I fidgeted, nervous as my legs fought to stand up right, my breathing ragged and short. From my perspective, there was a terrifying pause, a momentary silence. I looked at him, my eyes taking him in, and he did the same to me.

"Do you want to come in?" he said, with that soft smile playing on his mouth.

Stepping in, I took time to let the door close, it felt like I was trapped when I heard it click shut. Trapped with only one way out now. I had my face cast down, but I could not stop myself and looked up at him, sheepish and shy, seeing him gaze at me, smiling. My face reddened. He was so much larger than me. He could do

anything

.

He stood there confident, leaning against the door frame, the dressing gown slightly open at the chest. The knot was pulled tight against his waist, the ties hanging down suggestive. Mike tilted his head to the side, his gaze running over me, his dark eyes darting about my frame, taking everything in. I saw him clearly lick his lips while he stared at me. I wondered, as I breathed nervously, if he was mentally undressing me, removing my tight t-shirt, pulling down my jeans. Maybe he would slide his hands inside my jeans and cup my ass, grip it in his firm grasp. Telling me, as he did it, the things he wanted to do to me, the things I had thought about so much since that first night, a night that seemed like a lifetime ago. His smile curled up in the corner of his mouth as I stood there, again I didn't know what to do, or what to say.

I'm scared. I want it, but I don't know how to begin.

"Such a good-looking young man," he said. "Don't be afraid. You've come this far. Take a step forward. Can you do that for me?"

I complied, taking a tentative step forward at that the praise and that soft command. Seeing me move towards him, his smile widened. I couldn't look at him. He was so confident. I felt odd, strange, excited

and

scared. I felt listless, light headed, as I looked down, seeing he was obviously hard. Even in his dressing gown I could see it. It was obvious, even in the soft light. I was torn. I wanted him in my mouth, but I was confused.

Without thinking I took another step forward. I was gazing, without shame, at the outline of his cock. It stood up proudly, because of me. Okay, it might not have been because of

me

. He might have been stroking himself before I arrived, but I told myself that was all because of me.

The anticipation could have made him hard, Steve

.

You did that!

Moreover, I felt pride, pride that I had done that to him. Last time it had all played out slow, myself innocent as he coerced me. But now, I was here, presenting myself for him. Wanting him to want me. Scared to admit it fully, that I wanted him in my mouth. That I wanted him to-

"Do you know what you want?"

I shook my head, shocked by the question and then I felt myself nod, still confused. I was still ashamed to say what I wanted.

I liked sucking your cock and I liked the way you talked to me and touched me. I might even want you to fuck me.

I bit my bottom lip, holding back.

Fantasy's are easy to bring arousal, but the reality is very different. When you're there, there are the doubts. There's anticipation and there is anxiety. There is concern at the unknown. Uneasiness of what your mind conjures when you're there, the fantasy shackled in your mind. It's easy to follow the fantasy of your own making, it's a lot different to finally find yourself there. The things you may have thought about doing, or the things you're wishing were done to you or you were doing, but actually being there, it all becomes too real and unnerving.

Starting to feel the emotions, realizing that I was actually

there

, I stood still, shaking as he looked me up and down. Was he enjoying the way he was making me feel? I couldn't see it in his eyes. Could he see it in mine? Did he see me scared, weak, but desperately curious? I felt excited, but powerless. He stepped forward.

"Last week I saw a beautiful young man without fear."

I shook listening to him, trying to lift my eyes to watch his face, but all I did was stare at the outline of his cock.

"Saw him need so badly." I swallowed hard at his praise, at the way he was making me feel. He took one small step towards me. "You made me so hard. Do you recall that I said it took everything in me to be a gentleman last week?"

I nodded but when I brought my face up, from staring at the outline of his cock, I looked into his eyes and instantly panicked, because everything flooded over me. It dawned on me.

He'd seen it all? Seen me fighting not to go with those guys? Saw I was vulnerable, naive. Did he see I was ashamed? Is that why I let him do it? Is that why I enjoyed it? I lowered my gaze as the shame filled me.

He took another step closer, lifting his hand to run it through my hair gently and lowered it to my cheek, lifting my chin and making me look at him.

"You knew what you wanted last week, didn't you?"

I nodded, a painful admission welling up inside me, recalling the things I had said to him, the things I wanted. I wanted his hands on me. I wanted to feel special. I wanted to be adored.

"Do you want to show me what you wanted? What you needed from

them

?"

He

had

seen! He'd seen it all!

I shook, fighting my thoughts. I was mortified.

FUCK!

Looking down, I saw his hand take mine and place it on the ties of the dressing gown, as he caressed my shaking hand. It was gentle and respectful. He wasn't telling me what to do, he was merely implying, guiding me. He was presenting an opportunity. He wasn't going to rush me, or force me. Mike was waiting for me to do it. I looked up at him, the doubts, excitement and fear rolling around my mind.

"I'm s-scared," I said, my voice audibly trembling. I tried to take a deep breath, to calm myself, but I couldn't. "I d-don't understand why. I don't know what t-to do."

"Shh, I know," said Mike as he stroked my cheek. "I know. Shh, tonight you don't need to do anything you don't want to do."

"C-Can I have a drink?" I asked, feeling myself needing a moment, needing some courage. I looked at him and he shook his head.

"No."

I felt scared and helpless, as he continued to shake his head, watching me close and motioned my hand onto the knot of his gown, so that I could touch him.

"You can't have a drink tonight," Mike said softly. "It might give you some bravery, and I understand you need that, but it's bad for other things. It can numb some areas." He paused for a brief moment, letting me take that statement in before continuing. "You might say something, something you would never say when sober and I don't want you to look back on tonight and regret it. Even if you think you mean it. Drink can do that, can't it?"