Summer 2000, Upstate New York, the nights were cool but humid, with the mosquitoes and fireflies being the dominant species at the time.
I was pretty young still, not quite 21, but with a pretty serious penchant for beer and Marijuana. I could chug and toke with the best of them.
I always had people around me. At my house, my job, everywhere I went, I was never alone. But the one thing I didn't have at the time was love, specifically from a woman. At least what I thought was love was more the need for physical attention. Sex. As much as I could handle. Which for me at the time wasn't much, if I was sober, at best 5 minutes. Get me drunk though, and I might never cum.
This particular evening, I was in rare form, drunk as hell at an outdoor field party they called it. There were dozens of people I didn't know, men and women, numerous bonfires and kegs of beer that lit the field of the farm we were on up like a baseball stadium at night. Country music blaring across the field and cowboys and girls dancing, making out, sneaking off behind the tree line for some quick fun.
I had just come off of a 6 month relationship with a girl who was a year my senior, had her own apartment and a car, whereas I lived with my step-dad, had no car, but I had a good job, and a pile of money.
Heather was amazing in almost every way except for 3 things. She refused to give blow jobs, she had the hairiest bush I still to this day have ever seen, and it turns out was a gold digging bitch. When my pile of money disappeared, so did she. Her one good quality besides having an amazing body and special ass, was she was the loudest lay I have ever had. I mean she fucking yodled in bed. It was awesome.
Something this particular night told me that I needed something to happen. Some kind of rebound or consolation prize. And I was determined to make that happen.
I had always considered myself straight, always been with women, and mocking gay men in the company of my friends because I didn't want them to know that secretly I had fantasies about what it would be like getting fucked by a man, or having him explode in my mouth. It was things I thought about at night while I jerked off into an old sock.
At the time, I knew one man that was openly gay, and he happened to be at this party. I wasn't sure if I had the balls to approach him and tell him what I wanted, but I was going to damn sure try.
He was standing by himself by one of the numerous kegs of beer, which I suspected had probably become his own because the farmers and country folk there were afraid of the big bad gay man, so no one wanted to close to him.
I stumbled over to him (I was quite drunk at this point) and asked him how he was enjoying the party. (It's also worth mentioning that I cannot for the life of me remember his name, so I'm calling Johnny for the sake of the story).
"I'm bored, and not even getting drunk." He said, "Too bad our ride is somewhere out there." He said as he waved his hands like a grand gesture over the crowd of drunk bodies in the field.
"Me too," I replied, "but I'm hammered." I could tell I was slurring my words. "I need to walk or something. Wanna take a walk with me?"
"Sure, '' he said, "anything is better than standing here alone, where do you want to walk to?"
