What follows is a true account of my first homosexual experience. There is a fair amount of build-up in this part, but this will probably not be the case in later sections. If this topic offends you, kindly read another story and do not post derisive comments. Regardless, I hope you enjoy it. Names have been changed.
For the vast duration of my teenage years I had never even considered sexual contact with another man. I had enjoyed the moderate successes with girls that a teenage boy might hope for, making out and more with people at parties and even a few more serious attachments and relationships with the opposite sex. Whilst I was technically a virgin at eighteen, I had done 'everything but' and was fairly set in my ways in viewing girls as the only option for sexual activity. It wasn't that I didn't like the idea of being with a man – I have always had a rather liberal approach to sex - but rather that I just simply hadn't considered it. As the category this story is posted in may suggest however, all this was soon to change.
But first a few words about myself for the purposes of visualisation. I was (and, alas, still am) slightly shorter than average and of a skinny build. My skin is naturally pale and my brown hair is worn fairly long. It wouldn't be unfair to suggest that my general 'look' had been influenced by the bands and artists I so loved; figures such as Alex Turner, Jack White, Bob Dylan, Saul Williams, and so on. I grew up and went to school in the south of England, where many of these stories will be set.
My best friend since I had been about nine years old was a boy named Tom. His mum, at a chance meeting with mine, had suggested that I consider applying for a different school from the one I spent Years One to Four at, where she herself was sending Tom. And so, a few months later, Tom and I met each other at my house as an attempt on the behalves of our mothers to ensure we knew at least one person before we both changed schools. We hit it off immediately and spent the afternoon fighting one another with plastic swords around the house before he was begrudgingly dragged away in the early evening. In our last years as children and through the ravages of puberty we grew to be the closest of friends. While I was quick to discover the joys of chasing girls and drinking at around the age of fourteen (not that shocking in the UK; if anything I was a latecomer), Tom always shied away from the mischievous house parties and attempted pub trips. Notably, he did not seem anywhere near as sex-obsessed as me or any of my other friends. This was something I put down to his somewhat overbearing mother, as well as the fact that he was often seen as a bit of a do-gooder.
By the time we were fifteen, our group of friends had discovered pot as well while Tom was still staying in, nose glued to his books or eyes fastened on whatever video game he was playing. At this point I decided that Tom ought to live a little. Practically forcing him to come to a big party a friend was throwing, I informed him on the journey there that he had to try at least two of the following: weed, alcohol, or making out with a girl. Taking vodka and a quarter of weed, I was resolute that this would happen. Sure enough, Tom got some drink down him and ended up basically being jumped by a girl who saw how handsome he was. Indeed, with his olive skin and dark eyes, Tom had attracted many girls in his time; a fact which frustrated me as he never seemed to take advantage of the fact. Nevertheless, my job was done and I enjoyed the rest of the night confident that I had done a good deed for my friend.
It was around this time that Tom told me in one conversation that he had a secret which he was desperate to tell me, but which he couldn't as it would be unfair on someone else that it involved. Something, though I was unsure what, ticked in my brain and I told him that whatever it was I wouldn't hold it against him. He was my best mate after all. Still, as it would not have been fair on the mysterious other person, Tom kept his lips sealed and I was kept in the dark. He did however thank me for being understanding and promised he would tell me as soon as he could.
The revelation came a few years later. By this point we were both eighteen and now the drinking was entirely legal. Tom had hugely loosened up in his attitudes and we were still as close as ever. One night when we were chatting on MSN or some such thing he wrote:
"Remember I told you I had a big secret?"
"Yeah," I replied.
"I'm gay."
"Oh, that's cool. It's not really a big deal, I don't see you any differently. You're my mate, so don't worry about it."
And so the conversation went on. Though it might well have done, it didn't really come as anything of a surprise. It just kind of made sense. His lack of interest in girls that I had ascribed to his often timid nature hardly made his announcement a surprising one.
Then the penny dropped.
