Chapter 1 - Brandon
This is the tale of the last two years, and the various sexual and/or romantic adventures I've experienced in this extremely liberating period of my life. This is a true story, not a fantasy. The things in it really happened to me. The dialogue is based on my memory, and where it is invented its based on what was very likely to have been said.
Being raised in a very conservative and religious environment, I finally embraced my sexuality at the age of 23. That's another story. Suffice it to say that at 25 I was living secretly with my first boyfriend and wondering what was next in my life. The relationship was great, I supposed, but then I had nothing to compare it to. I had never dated anybody before that, of either gender. Eventually I got into a graduate program on the other side of the country and suddenly my life changed forever. My decision to go to graduate school effectively ended my relationship, and I found myself alone and single in an unfamiliar place. Being far away from my family and the religion of my youth, I could now of the first time live as a comfortably open gay man. My classmates were more than supportive of this - I had never in my life been around so many people who were so accepting of what I had always had to keep to secret. I looked forward to being able to date under somewhat more normal circumstances.
I'm convinced "normal" is a meaningless phrase; everything is relative.
Nothing went exactly according to my expectations. For instance, my eyes were immediately drawn to Ian, another grad student in my department. He looked, dressed, and acted like New York City, where he grew up, which was unlike everything I had known before. While not religious, he was deeply spiritual and philosophical by nature and defied rigid categorization. He was a self-identified bisexual, and while that often is considered only a stepping stone on the way to gay, I was quickly convinced that in his case it was absolutely true. He fascinated me, and I resolved to ask him out on a date, but before I could he happily informed me he had just started dating this rather attractive red-headed undergraduate girl in our department. After that, I decided to put a hold on dating or hooking up and just focus on school. Jerking off had served me well the first 23 years of my life, it could keep me alive now. It didn't help that my roommate, while a hopeless tool, was extremely attractive and not particularly shy about walking around undressed in front of his roommate. I had at the time never told him I was gay. I wanted to but he was from the same religious background as me and I thought it might make things weird (as it turns out, he was totally comfortable with it, didn't change a thing). One weekend early on our air conditioning went out and the ridiculous heat and humidity kept us both permanently down to our underwear, which was both blissful and torturous. It would have been less arousing if he had just gone totally naked and shown it all, but with the hint, the suggestion, the occasional outline or bulge working on the imagination, it was constant torment. I spent the whole weekend bottled up in my room whenever possible, frantically masturbating until I was near to chafing.
Due to this and other factors, I was restless and impatient and seriously sexually frustrated. I'm too busy for a relationship, I reasoned to myself, I just need to get laid. That should be easy enough, even given my relative inexperience and shyness, right?
Not sure where or how to meet men, I turned to the only resource I had ever known: the internet. I started talking to a guy named Brandon who seemed nice and was eager to meet me. We agreed to meet in this trendy commercial area near my place and go for a walk. When he pulled up in a big pickup truck blasting heavy metal, I rolled my eyes and thought to myself that this was not going to go well. He got out of the truck and I got my first good look at him. He was at least three or four inches taller than me, making him somewhere near six feet, with a nice stocky build, a strong chin, broad shoulders, and a t-shirt just tight enough to show off some decent muscle mass. I felt a flutter deep in my stomach - I'd always liked stockier guys over the skinny, beanpole types.
This guy is out of my league in all sorts of ways, I thought to myself, already beginning to compare my body to his. I was always the scrawny kid, and that was still my mental image of myself, even though I had put on a little weight living with that first boyfriend (who was a great cook). The active life of grad school was already melting that away, but I had been too lazy to go the gym.
As he got closer I noticed with surprise that he was pierced, on his eyebrow and just under his bottom lip. Piercings and tattoos are heavily discouraged in my religion, and I wasn't used to seeing such things, especially when he showed me his tongue was pierced too. It was off-putting at first, but the more I looked at him the more it seemed to suit him. Within ten minutes I thought it might be the hottest thing I'd ever seen in my life. We walked around, watching the drunks stumble from bar to bar, and getting to know each other. He was a few years younger than me and from a little rural town a little ways away where he had played football in a tiny little high school and been in a secret sexual relationship with his best buddy for years. That had recently come to an emotional end, with his buddy dating a woman and trying to pretend it had all never happened, and Brandon was pretty upset about it. I felt bad for him, but I was in a state of continual disbelief. This guy should be walking around with a blonde bimbo on his arm, or with another macho dude talking about boobs or whatever straight guys talk about, not describing to me with gleeful detail the first time he kissed his buddy, or fucked him. Nobody would ever guess he was into guys, and I was already sorely tempted to take Brandon to meet all my friends just to see their jaws drop open. However, I was certain that having seen me he would realize that I was not what he was looking for - I just couldn't be. He certainly wasn't my type, I couldn't possibly be his. I told him my story, my long struggle, the various stages of sexual experimentation, the long-term relationship that just recently ended. It was very polite and cordial, and after an hour or so he said he had to get home and said goodbye.
I never thought I'd hear from him again, but within half an hour he called me.
"Just wanted you to know that I thought you were really cute and nice and I'd love to hang out again," he said, with his light southern drawl.
"Sure, I'd like that," I said, finding speaking difficult.
Fortunately for us, my roommate, the tool, had just started dating this girl in our class and was now sleeping over at her house nearly every night. This left the apartment empty for Brandon's visits. A few days after that first meeting he came over again, and we sat on the couch and talked some more. He told me even more details about his sexual past, and I hung on every word.
"I can't believe he's dating that bitch!" Brandon said. Fresh hurt still sounding in his voice whenever he talked about his ex. "I'm tempted to call her up and let her know how much her `boyfriend' likes it up the ass."
"Oh, so it went that way, did it?" I said, curious.
"Almost always, yeah. I'm a total top. What about you?"
I took a deep breath, trying to slow heart from beating. "Well, in my previous relationship I was generally on the receiving end of things, so I guess that's what I like."
He seemed quite satisfied with that answer.
"I'm sick of the selfish, stuck up jock types I usually go for," he said at one point, "I just want to have some fun with a nice, normal guy. Somebody I feel comfortable with." He looked at me, leaving no ambiguity to who he was referring. "I'm glad you're shorter than me," he added for good measure, "I'm always turned on by guys who are shorter than me."
Well, I'm not stupid. I can take a hint. I leaned in and kissed him.
When his shirt came off, I was surprised by the tattoo on his back, which I found surprisingly hot, and at all the little curly chest hairs he had, which I found even hotter. I was usually into smooth, hairless guys, but when Brandon apologized because he'd been meaning to shave or wax, I said honestly I wouldn't want him any other way. I was a little shy about getting undressed in front of him at first. I have no problem with nudity, I used to go skinny dipping with my buddies back home all the time, but he was giving me body image problems just by being the same room. By the time he had removed everything but my underwear, I was feeling a little self-conscious.
"You got a nice frame," he said, maybe sensing my feelings, "No, really. It's really nice. If you just worked out a little bit, you could have a fucking great body. I think you look great." And then he kissed me again. That helped a lot.
My confidence was further boosted once our nakedness was complete. His dick was really nice, but not as long or thick as mine. At six and half inches, I had never thought of myself as particularly large, but Brandon grinned and told me mine was even bigger than his high school buddy's. He complimented it at he gently touched and explored it. I've been with a few people before and since Brandon, but few who were as genuinely curious about the details of my body the first time we were together.
My apartment was on the fourth floor and over looked the commercial area where we had met a few days earlier. The large windows were open and the lights from the bars and clubs filtered in with some stars, providing just enough light to see while still creating the right mood. We kissed and explored with our hands and jerked each other off. I have a particular curse in which it is often difficult for me to orgasm when I'm with somebody. I guess I get nervous or feel pressure to perform. I'll get very very close, but it just won't happen. I could tell Brandon was very close, and had been for a while but was holding off for me, and this put even more pressure on me.
"Don't wait for me, I take forever sometimes," I explained, "It might be easier if I can see you go."
He didn't need any more encouragement. Within a minute he let out a low, gravelly grunt and two or three jets of cum shot onto his stomach, pooling into his belly button. It was the thick, milky kind that I had always been envious of - mine was usually runnier and more clear. Not that I would ever complain. Difficult orgasms and runny semen aside, I had a gift for having intense, powerful ejaculations and I was and still am very grateful for it.
As I predicted, seeing Brandon in the throws of orgasm was a great help in my own progress. My hand picked up speed until it was almost a blur, as I often masturbate with great speed. Finally, after sitting on the cusp of it for what felt like forever, I felt the mechanism of my body take control and the swelling of pleasure that meant the end was near. I let some gasps and moans and unloaded all over my stomach, chest, and face.
"Holy shit!" Brandon said, grinning from ear to ear as it just kept coming and coming. Most people say something similar the first time they see me shoot.
"It always takes a while," I said, "but its always worth the wait." I'm so cheesy. I don't know how many times I've used that line.
Our first experience together having gone fairly well, I felt confident that I would been seeing a lot more of Brandon. I liked him, and he liked me, and we had some kind of chemistry, but there was no risk of deeper or more complicated emotions getting in the way. I had stumbled onto my very first fuck buddy. Later that night Brandon called me on his way home and thanked me again. He looked forward to meeting again and going further, and I must say I agreed.
The next week at school I spent a lot of time being distracted from my work as I imagined how my next encounter with him would play out. It didn't help that I kept receiving flirty and sometimes outright dirty text messages from him throughout the day. In my head I pictured him, the macho former jock, throwing me onto the bed, lifting my legs in the air, and ravishing me while I, the more passive intellectual type, laid there and took it like a pro. I mean, considering our relative personalities, that seemed the most likely way for things to go, right? Finally Friday night came around, and the tool was out of the house, and everything was set for him to come over. He had just arrived, and we were on the bed making out and had just got undressed when suddenly I heard the front door open. The tool was home.
"Matt, are you home?" he said loudly.
Now, if this sort of thing happened to me today I would act very differently than I did back then. I would open the door to my room and announce to my roommate, "Hey. I'm home, but I'm about to have sex in here with a totally hot guy so don't bother me, ok?"
Needless to say, that's not how it went. Like I said, I was scared about how the tool would take it if he found out, so I panicked. I threw on some clothes and with great effort left Brandon naked on the bed while I slipped out of my room and closed the door behind me. I had to figure out why the roommate was here and get him away as soon as possible.
Turns out he was just home to grab a few things and then he would be off again to his girlfriend's. He began complaining about her, I guess they had had an argument again, and like a good friend I tried to listen and be sympathetic but all I could think about was the naked guy in my bedroom. Finally, I wiggled out of the conversation and said I was going back to my room.
Once I had safely locked the door behind me, I turned to Brandon. He was laughing quietly, and gave me a look that said What now? The adrenaline was shooting through my body and my heart was beating madly, and the sight of Brandon's body sent me over the edge. I shoved him onto the bed, not lightly, and straddled him. We began making out like crazy. I could tell that by taking a bit more of an aggressive attitude I was really turning him on.
I think he was in the middle of blowing me when the tool knocked on my door and said, "Hey, I'm leaving now. Okay?"
"Okay!" I squeaked, "See you tomorrow!"
Things progressed quickly after that. I didn't recognize myself. After sucking each other for a bit, I flipped him over on his stomach and pulled his butt up in the air. I began rubbing my cock along his crack and he moaned appreciatively. This was not at all how things were supposed to be going. The positions were all reversed. But he was laying there, wiggling his ass against me and loving every second of it, while I thrust aggressively against him, kissing and nibbling on his neck and grabbing at his hair with my hands.
"Fuck me, please," he said at last.
"What happened to the total top, huh?" I said, smiling, reaching for lube.
"Gently, gently!" he said as I slid a finger in, "I'm not really used to this."
I was patient, and eventually my entire dick was sliding into him. He moaned uncontrollably and kept muttering obscenities, but when I asked if I should take it out he commanded me not to go anywhere. As we lay there, frozen in time except for our rapidly beating hearts, I admired the shape of his back and the gentle curve to his butt where I could see myself buried inside of him. He was warm and very tight. He kept squeezing and releasing his glutes, and I trembled at the pressure of it. At last he gave me just the tiniest of nods and I knew he was ready. I went to town.
I'm not sure how long we were at it. I was feeling the most amazing sensations, particularly since I hadn't topped in what felt like years and was rediscovering everything. Brandon was, I can only assume, having a similar experience. Despite the intensity of the sensations, or perhaps because of them, I found myself again having difficulty getting past the point of no return, that moment of inevitability. My body would swell and I would feel certain that I was about to reach climax, only to have those feelings suddenly disappear, or freeze without going any further. The upshot was, I fucked him for a good long time, totally enthralled with the sense of power that came from taking control and making him squeal. Finally he couldn't take it anymore.
"Dude," he said, turning his head to the side to look at me out of the corner of his eye, "you are going to make me cum! Are you even close?"
I felt a little flustered and said I wasn't sure.
"How can I help? Is there anything I can do to make it easier for you?"
"Well..." I said, breathing heavily, "I never have any problems when there is pressure on my prostate."
Brandon responded in a flash. He pushed me up, off and out of him, and flipped around to face me. With another gentle push, I was laying flat on my back with my legs in the air, while he stood on the floor next to the bed and guided himself into me. It had been a little while, but I found I accommodated him fairly easily and quickly and soon he was pumping into me like a champ, fully returning the favor I had just given to him. This wasn't going to take long. All that time inside of him combined with the amazing feeling of him rubbing against my special spot was going to make what had been difficulty suddenly all too easy.
"Oh God, I can't... here it comes."
"Yeah, fucking shoot!" he said, whooping with encouragement.
My cumshot had been impressive when we had jerked off together, but this one put that to shame. It just kept coming and coming, one shot clearing the top of my head and splattering onto the bed and the wall. Like a pro, Brandon kept himself inside me, keeping up the stimulation until my orgasm was finally, finally coming to an end and he could hold back no longer. In one smooth motion, he pulled out and positioned himself above me. He came onto my stomach and chest, adding to the mess I had already made there. Looking down, I could see it all glistening in the moonlight. Though it was kind of dark, I could tell easily which was his and which was mine.
"Damn, boy." he said, "Nobody ever gets to fuck me like that."
I blushed. "Guess I'm special."
"Guess so," he said, giving me a little kiss.
"You want to go meet my friends?"
I cleaned myself off before we went, of course, but once we were surrounded by my college friends I could tell I reeked of semen. My friends had no idea what to make of Brandon, he was completely different than anybody in my social circle. They warmed up to him, eventually, but none them could figure how I had gotten a guy like that. I couldn't either. Ian, the bisexual, told me I had made a fucking catch.
Brandon and I meet up about once a week for most of the rest of that semester. The difference in our personalities got more and more clear, but we usually regarded that difference affectionately. For instance, once he opened my closet and looked at my wardrobe.
"It's like a fuckin' Easter egg basket in here," he said, shaking his head. I had a lot of brightly patterned shirts back then, and Brandon always wore dark solid colors. He was similarly shocked when he looked at my iTunes and found no metal music. I would always tease him back, and soon we'd be naked again.
We always stayed friendly and enjoyed each other's company, but as he began to recover from the pain of being dumped he changed. He became less affectionate, less grateful to have me around, and I could tell that our fling together was coming to a close. He was ready to start dating again, and to start looking for the kind of guy he would consider as a boyfriend. I was not that kind of guy, which was okay. He was definitely not what I was looking for in a mate, either. But we had been there for each other in a time of our lives when we both needed somebody, and I would never go back and change anything about that. Eventually, he moved about an hour north to go to school and, when I heard from him now and then, he seemed to be doing really well for himself.
Two more little stories about Brandon. About four or five months after he moved north, I found myself needing to take a flight to the northeast, and found that airfare was much cheaper out of the city Brandon had moved to than from my own. I called him up and asked if it would be possible to stay at his place the night before my flight so I could be there when it left early the next morning, and he said that would be just fine.
I went up there and he showed me around his new city, where he went to school, where he lived. He caught me up on the guy he had dated for a little while, but it hadn't lasted very long. When it was finally time for sleep, he invited me just to crawl into bed with him. We had been laying there quietly in the dark for just a few minutes when suddenly Brandon reached over and put his hand on my crotch. I had a huge erection, of course, being near him again.
"I thought so," he said, smiling, and we went at it again, just like old times. When I slid my dick in him, he turned to me and whispered, "You're still the only guy I let do this to me." I melted.
I had a little trouble again, so Brandon stuck his finger in my ass. "I remember how to get you," he said, smiling. And with moments I was spraying down the room like a fire hose.
"I remember that, too," he grinned.
When it was over, Brandon sprayed some Febreeze in his room. "Smells like fuckin' ass in here, now!" he said. Same old Brandon.
The last story happened quite recently. He got in touch with me out of nowhere one day and said he was coming down to my city for a little while and asked if he could visit while he was there. By this time I had started dating my current boyfriend (the identity of which will be revealed in a later chapter) and it had been over a year since I last heard from Brandon. He hadn't changed too much. Still confident, almost cocky, still a Republican (God help me), and still totally hot. My friends were delighted to see him again ("Oh, yeah, that guy!") and my boyfriend happened to find him especially attractive.
We don't do stuff like that as a rule, but it just happened so easily with Brandon. The three of us had a great time. We all jerked off together, and then Brandon watched my boyfriend fuck me. As he left he gave us both a hug.
"What a nice guy," my boyfriend said.
"Yeah," I said, remembering all our times together, "He is."