My First Experience with a Man

So, this is a true story. Honestly, I'm not just saying that.

I was in my early 20's when this happened, and whereas I share many of the same character traits now as I did then, it cannot be emphasized enough just how trusting and innocent I was back then, much more so than today. In fact, it has only been in recent years that I've been able to revisit this experience and see it more clearly.

I had always thought of myself as straight, and I still do generally think of myself as straight. My sexual experiences were quite vanilla... I'd only had only one sexual partner, my girlfriend Samantha whom I was still with. We had recently moved from Philadelphia to a very rural part of West Virginia together. We wanted to experience a more outdoorsy lifestyle for a while. I was so wide-eyed... I just wanted to experience everything! I loved big-city life, I loved rural-America life, I loved it all! Life was just one big adventure!

As innocent as I was, though, it had not escaped my attention the affect I had on men... usually much older men. I was very thin, clean-shaved, and very young-looking. People often confused me for a teenager. Older men just seemed to like me. It happened a lot in Philadelphia. If I was reading in the park, or working at the bookstore, they would come up and take a real sudden interest in me, ask me to lunch... Sometimes I said yes. I didn't want to be rude, after all.

Once I went to a man's house and watched a movie with him while we drank Margaritas together. He found lots of excuses to accidently touch me throughout the evening, though it never went any farther than that. He called and emailed me all the time about coming over. I realize now that I was inadvertently leading these men on... I didn't intend to, I was just being friendly, after all! I didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings.

So hopefully you can see what kind of person I was. Maybe you've known young men like me. Innocent, kindhearted, eager to please.

Those were all experiences from Philadelphia. Nothing like that had happened since Samantha and I had moved out to rural West Virginia. There didn't seem to be any gay people out there at all. It was all a bunch of straight, white dudes. So I figured the days of attracting older men was behind me.

So there I was, in dark December, izmit escort in rural Maryland. Samantha was away visiting her family in Idaho for several weeks over the holidays, and I was living alone. I'd made a few friends that I would hang out with. One of those friends was an older man named Richard.

Richard was in his mid-fifties, I would say. He lived alone, but it had never occurred to me for a second that he was gay. All of the gay men I had known in Philadelphia were fastidiously neat in their wardrobe and grooming habits. I guess it's just a stereotype, but it certainly seemed accurate. Richard, on the other hand, was quite overweight, with thinning, greasy hair that was seldom combed. He dressed very slovenly. I got the feeling he didn't shower very often.

I felt sorry for Richard. He didn't have anyone to spend the holidays with, and since I didn't either, I suggested that we hang out together on Christmas Eve. I didn't want anyone to feel alone or be sad.

He really liked the idea. He told me about a cabin he had access to down by the river, owned by some hunters that he had done some legal work for. They let him use the cabin during the off-season. It sounded fine to me... I liked camping in cabins!

So on Christmas Eve, I showed up at his apartment and... uh oh. He was drunk on his feet. I can't believe I got in the truck with him. Of everything that happened that night, that was my biggest regret. I could have been killed. But I was very compliant, very accommodating. I didn't like to hurt anyone's feelings or make anyone feel badly about themselves. So even though he could barely walk in a straight line, I got in the pick-up with him and we drive the ten miles or so down a wooded dirt road.

The cabin was dirty and freezing. We started a fire in the woodstove but it didn't help much. I began to feel trapped... like I couldn't wait to get out of there, that the whole thing had been a mistake. I didn't want to say anything to make him feel bad, though, so I pretended everything was fine, and that I was perfectly happy to be there with him.

He brought out some beers and immediately started drinking. I joined in, as though it was all in good fun. His skin smelled like alcohol and sweat. I wondered when the last time he'd changed his madeinizmit.com clothes had been. He warmed up just enough to take off his sweatshirt, and I could see his big, hairy belly hanging grossly over the top of his pants.

There was no electricity, so no television or radio or really anything to do except sit in front of the stove and drink and talk. And did he talk... I hadn't known that much about him before, but he really opened up about himself. About his past. About his sexual predilections.

To put it bluntly, he liked young boys. He showed me pictures of some of the kids he'd been with in the past. He kept them in his wallet and took great pride and joy in describing for me some of the situations. They were all consensual he assured me, several times. A lot of them had been from his army days, stationed overseas.

It was an eye-opening experience, and even though I was disgusted, I had to admit I was also somewhat curious. "Do you still... look for boys?" I asked him.

"No, no. Not anymore." He told me he'd used to do environmental programs in schools but had stopped because it was too hard for him to be around the schoolboys, he couldn't help his mind from going to dangerous places.

That made me feel slightly better, that he was self-aware enough to intentionally not put himself in situations wherein he would be tempted... But nonetheless, at this present moment, he was getting quite excited, telling me these things about himself. I'm sure he didn't often have many opportunities to tell anyone about this side of him.

We talked for a long time, but finally bunkered down for the night. I got in my sleeping bag and he got in his. It was hard for me to sleep... All I could think about were the vile things he'd told me, and I thought about those kids and wondered how consensual they had actually been.

Then, in the middle of the night, he came close to me, so that his sleeping bag was right next to mine. He pressed up against my body as closely as he could and put an arm over me , began shuddering violently.

"What... what are you doing?" I asked him.

"It's just.. so cold..." he muttered. "I thought our bodyheat together could warm us up..."

"Oh, okay..."

He kept shuddering his body against mine and I bit my tongue. As I said, I was very innocent... But I did eventually realize what he was doing. He was dry humping me. This large, overweight greasy man was dry humping young, innocent me in his sleeping bag.

It seemed to go on forever, but I could tell when he had finished. He gave a couple of last thrusts, then sighed deeply and rolled back over.

For myself, I had grown hard as a rock.

I almost felt like I was going to cum myself.

It was scary... like I was not in control of my body... there was absolutely no part of me that was even remotely attracted to this man... But I couldn't deny it, something erotic going on.

Later in the night, he did it again. I could sense him working up to it, then sliding over next to me. He humped me again, even harder than before. I just pretended I was sound asleep and didn't move a muscle. Again I got hard. I thought again about those kids he had told me about, and wondered if he were imagining them at the time that he was humping me.

He did it a third time before the sun rose. I had been laying there, unmoving, anticipating it. Sure enough, he came over in his sleeping back, put that large, arm around my sleeping back, and thrust and thrust and thrust until he came. His sleeping bag must have been filled with sticky cum.

The next morning, neither of us talked about what had happened the night before. We left soon after, driving back, and I drove to my parent's house to spend Christmas morning.

For many years, I've tried to forget that night, but it's only recently that I've begun masturbating to it, and I feel like something has opened up within me. I've also begun thinking back to all those other times in Philadelphia, all the other men who had flirted with me and bought me things... Why did I get hard as a rock that night? Why do I masturbate to it now?

It's not that I'm suddenly realizing I'm gay... I've still only ever had sex with women. I think it's the way I was used. When I jerk myself off thinking about him, I'm thinking about how I was just a piece of meat for him, and the way he roughly used me, put that meaty arm around me and wouldn't let go until he was done and didn't care what I had to say about it.

I'm glad I was there for him that Christmas Eve in West Virginia. I'm glad he had someone to be with. I was happy to be used for his satisfaction. And maybe someday, somehow, he'll use me again.

I would enjoy hearing from anyone who has any insight into my experience.