This is my first attempt at Male/Male erotica. I almost hesitated to put it in the Gay Male category because it's one of those "previously straight guy's first time" stories where the main character struggles with reluctance and shame. But that's my own personal perspective from my youth. Thanks to RSchwuler and donaldelliott for their advice and assurance that these kind of fantasies are more common than most men realize, and not necessarily offensive to readers who are unreservedly gay. If you like these kind of stories, check those writers out. If you don't, well, you've been warned.
All characters are at least 18 years old.
***
What the fuck had I done?
How had I ended up on my shoulders and knees on the thin futon on the floor of a high school's theatre prop storage room, pinned down by an all-state defensive tackle's gigantic hands spread out on my back, with his menacing cock nudging against my ass?
I felt my own tears on my face. I was crying from both the fear, and from the sudden clarity that my near-nakedness had brought -- the reality of what I was doing, what I was letting Luke Wallace do to me.
What was I doing? Why had I thought I wanted this? The fear of the discomfort of a huge foreign object inside my body wasn't the half of it. The reality was, that foreign object was a living, pulsing appendage of another young male, who was about to fuck me in the ass. I was letting him make a cock sleeve out of me. And now I couldn't take it back. It was too late.
I wasn't gay, I kept telling myself, even now. I liked girls ... even though I was too shy, or too afraid of rejection, to do much about it. It was girls that I wanted to date, to kiss, to have sex with. I wasn't romantically interested in boys. I didn't want to kiss them.
At least, I dimly realized, at least he knew what he was doing. He hadn't been all bluster. Mine wasn't the first ass he had penetrated.
He had brought lube. Of course he had! I wouldn't have had the nerve to carry a tube of lubricant to the cash register, for fear of being confronted by some stern adult asking for my ID. Luke had probably tossed it on the counter and announced to everyone in the vicinity that he was going to be deflowering someone tonight.
He had used that lube to wordlessly and purposefully prepare me with his fingers -- rather aggressively, but effectively, skillfully even. I was surprised, actually, at how easily I had accommodated his fingers, properly lubricated. What was going to come next, I was afraid, would be a different story.
It didn't surprise me to think that he had fucked girls in the ass before; but I had suspected his bragging about turning boys into sissies was bullshit. I had called him on it. He had told me, "Fuck around and find out."
Now, I suspected his boasts were based on experience.
And that made me wonder, who
were
the other boys at Glenview High School who had been prostrate beneath Luke, writhing and groaning with his cock up their ass? Who were the other members of this Hall of Shame I was about to join?
The fact that I didn't know their names wasn't proof that they didn't exist. My current situation rather implied that they
did.
But at least, I was lucid enough to realize, it meant Luke didn't fuck and tell. Or at least he didn't name names.
God, what had I gotten myself into? I dropped my forehead onto the mattress, and bit my lip. I just had to wait for this to be over. I had fucked around and now I was about to find out.
***
I was late getting to lunch. I had had student council business in the principal's office, only for a few minutes, but now I had to get in line with all the freshmen and sophomores. And by the time I got my tray of mystery meat and over-salted green beans, most of the gang I normally sat with were finishing up their meals and heading out to grab a few minutes of spring sunshine.
So I was briefly alone at a table in the cafeteria. But not for long. A minute later, I heard the "ah-OOO-ga" sound of a vintage klaxon horn, the kind you might hear coming from a 1928 Packard in a Marx Brothers movie. It was Luke Wallace, the star defensive end from the football team, making a juvenile mouth sound to announce his presence, along with his entourage, as he so often did.
I turned and greeted them with a resigned grin as they helped themselves to the empty seats around me.
"Hey, Marty," he greeted me, using a nickname that no one else used. My name is Robert Martin, and I go by Rob.
"Hi Luke," I replied, and then to his cohort: "Guys."
The fact is, I got along with Luke just fine, even though sometimes his relentless teasing got on my nerves. But Luke teased everyone. In truth, we weren't as different as first appearances would suggest.
Yeah, Luke was an All-State football player. He was six-foot three and well-built, and annoyingly good-looking to boot, with a broad cheerful face and a mop of dark hair. He was of course popular with all the girls, and, according to rumors that he encouraged, a couple of the younger female teachers as well. But he wasn't a dumb jock; that was just a role that for some reason he enjoyed playing. In truth he was a very good student. He was going to the Naval Academy.
And I wasn't quite the nerd that he liked to tease me about being. Yeah, I only carried about 145 pounds on my five-ten frame, but I did play sports -- I ran cross-country and had played baseball. Because I wanted to fit it, and so I did what it took to earn a letter jacket. It was good for my college applications, like all my other extra-curricular activities. Yes, I was also a straight A student, and President of Student Council. So I knew I wasn't unpopular. I knew I wasn't bad-looking, although I was resigned to being thought of as "cute," rather than strikingly handsome.
I could tell myself -- and sometimes I told others -- that all this activity was the reason I didn't date. Had to build that resume, get a scholarship. But the real reason was that I was shy around girls. I could give a speech in front of two thousand people at a convocation, but put me alone with a pretty girl and I was tongue-tied.
It certainly wasn't because I wasn't interested in girls, or attracted to girls. Indeed, I seemed to have moved through a cycle of crushes on some of the prettiest, most popular girls in school -- girls that my presence in clubs and classes gave me the opportunity to chat with, but never work up the nerve to ask to a movie or a dance. I would idolize them, put them on a pedestal; and I would refrain from sullying them by even masturbating to thoughts about them. And then they ended up "going steady" with somebody else, someone with more confidence and a less fragile ego.
So at the same time, I worked my way through the yearbook, jerking off to the images of other girls ... bad girls who I imagined might seduce or trick me into sex. That way, I could have guilt-free orgasms, without defiling my image of the girls I wanted to date. Although I felt guilty anyway, afterwards. No, I was plenty interested in girls. I just lacked the confidence to act on it.
Meanwhile, back in the cafeteria Luke was taking up half of his side of the table, holding court. Apparently, the topic of conversation was that a star running back from a rival school was getting a scholarship to a Big Ten school. The guys weren't happy about it.
Suddenly Luke noticed something on Jeff's tray, and reached over to grab a Hostess Ding Dong off of it. "Where'd you get this?" he asked.
"Grabbed it from one of the freshman over at the brown bag table," Jeff replied. "Why?"
Luke was turning the snack over in his hands, examining the wrapper. "Just seeing if it's one of mine." He looked at me and winked. "I've got a night job over at the snack factory, ya know.
"I fill about a thousand of these a night."
I rolled my eyes as Luke's entourage cackled, but I also allowed myself to smile along. Calling these guys sophomoric was an insult to underclassmen.
"Speaking of snack cakes, I'll bet Jameson is a twinkie," suggested Bill, who was one of our linebackers, changing the subject back to the Southfield running back.
"He can suck my dick," grumbled Jeff, who played safety for us.
"He DID suck my dick," Luke pronounced. "Every time I tackled him behind the line."
They all laughed. I rolled my eyes again.
