<Thanks to everyone that sent me messages! They were awesome and much appreciated!!
So here is part two. It has sort of a differnet tone to it, but the stories will get more "explicit" as I go :). Hope you enjoy!
I am also sorry my stories are all short. I am a pretty slow writer! (Can't type worth shit!)
I guess you have to be over 18 to read this, but that's up to you. Any comments, please send to rad_18@mailcity.com; I would love to hear them! Aslo, please don't distribute this anywhere else (copyright stuff and all that jazz).>
I thought we could all relate :)
Nervous as Hell, Part 2
Even though it was one of those warm July rains, I could not stop my body from trembling. As soon as I thought I had my nerves under control, I would be wracked by what I was sure an onlooker would believe was a convulsion, then the shivers would start again.
"Get a grip!" I kept shouting at myself, inside my head, "or else you will blow the whole fucking thing and have to wait God knows how long for your next chance at this!"
I wasn't a virgin, at least not when it came to chicks. Two years ago, in my "denial years", as I call them, I was pretty involved with a girl in my class named Christine. She was really sweet, good at heart, although a little too clingy and gossipy. We fucked a few times, mainly because I was such a horny sixteen-year-old, that if I rubbed up against a chair, I got hard.
Actually, it was when she gave me my first, and only, blowjob, that I began to truly realize, or maybe I only finally "remembered", that I was gay.
The whole experience is burned into my soul. I remember being so surprised at when she first licked my cock, so blown away that my ultimate sexual fantasy was coming true, then so overwhelmingly disappointed by how lousy it felt! I started to go limp. I was crushed! How could this act not feel as fantastic as I dreamed, fantasized, or even WISHED that it could be! It was all wrong. Not enough pressure in some areas, too much in others. Too slippery in some areas, and not lubricated enough in others. What was wrong with me? Why wasn't I enjoying this?
I knew I had to think of something fast, because I was totally flaccid, and Christine seemed to be getting worried. If I didn't react in some way, I know that she would blame herself, and never try giving me head again. I tried to will myself to get up, but of course that didn't work. Then I started to think about what I would do and how I would feel if I was the one giving the blowjob. What areas I would concentrate on, how I would use my hand in combination with my mouth, and how I would study the subtle tremors along the shaft and in the balls that would give me all the clues I needed to tell if I was hitting the right spot or not.
Without even realizing it, the dick I imagined sucking became attached to the face of Jerry Conner, my Chem Lab partner. I imagined that once I worked him up so that he was so hard that I could see his cock beat in time with his heart, I would then just gently tease his head with the tip of my tongue, running it all along the slight ridge and the over top of it. Then I would let my tongue slide down to his nuts. I would gently take each one into my mouth, exploring it's surface with my tongue, then let it pop out. I would like that spot directly under his sack, tasting that flavor that defines what a man is, before returning to his shaft, which by now, would be so hard that you could use it as a pry bar. I would swallow him whole, using just my mouth, since he would be so sensitive that my hand would be overkill, bringing him to the brink when his breathing would as loud as a summer gale, and his eyes would squeezed shut so as nothing as mundane as the real world could enter his mind and taint this euphoric experience. His fingernails would be dug into my shoulder like some animal, ensuring that I can never leave, and then, with a cry and a shudder that could never be matched again, he would cum in my mouth.
And with that, I had the most intense orgasm of my life, the intensity of which caught both Christine and myself by surprise. I was way too involved in my fantasy to warn her of my impending explosion, and she was way too inexperienced to see it approaching. She panicked, taking her mouth off me (keeping this experience from being "absolutely perfect"), which of course was a mistake, because I absolutely drenched her face in my cum. I must of shot ten, twenty, one hundred times - I don't know! I was lost in a sea of primal pleasure.
And the key was that it was Jerry that was with me in my private universe, not Christine.
We broke up a week later, when I told her I was in love with another person. I lied, of course, and told her that it was some girl I met at one of my friends parties, but it was the closest I could come to keeping some kind of moral integrity by telling as much as the truth as I felt I could. I still felt super guilty, because she really was a nice girl. But it seemed that no matter what I did, I couldn't help thinking about Jerry. I couldn't forget that it was him that made me cum, not her. She had the best intentions when she first invited me into her mouth, but only a man can truly and innately understand how another man feels in that o-so-very-important-organ. I mean, I have never given a blowjob in my life, but I was able to imagine one in perfect detail!
My love for Jerry was really sexual infatuation, and unfortunately, I never even tried to see if he was remotely interested. I assumed he was straight because he had a girlfriend and he always talked about her, about how they were going to get married one day, have kids, yadda yadda yadda. I was also became so deathly nervous him. I believed that the lust that radiated from me was so powerful that he could get a sunburn from it. Of course, looking back on it, I realized that I really wasn't that apparent. I would gaze into his eyes a fraction longer than "normal", and study his ass whenever he was turned around, but in reality I never did anything super blatant.
Which I regret to this day. I didn't have the balls to even subtly try. I assumed he was straight. But, fuck, everyone assumed I was straight! I had a girlfriend, I used to always talk about her, and I always used to brag about the nights I got her into the sack. I was all a front, and a pretty good one. If I, one of the most paranoid people in the world, could pull it off, why couldn't Jerry?
All of this went through my head as I walked to "GoodThing". That whole regret at not being brave enough to even flirt with Jerry gave me the conviction to carry forward. I blew it because I was a wimp, and I would not do that again.
I was still shivering when I reached the club, but now it was more from nervous excitement than fear. I even managed to get past the bouncer and show my ID without throwing up!
Finally, I had the conviction to do something about my feelings and desires.
Part Three on its way!