Bradley opens up about his vice, and what turned him on to it.
I had my first sexual experience, albeit with a woman, at 19, during my freshman year of college year. Right after, I endured the college gauntlet for two years in earning various twat to lick and stuff, but I would fantasize of being the one on the receiving end of a dick deep inside me, whether mouth or ass, each time, I'd explode, seeing the woman gratified in thinking she made me do it. I quit college after those two years and joined the Army, when my fantasy came true right after I finished basic training in South Carolina while stationed in Korea, where I would get close to Kevin, a short, muscle-bound guy from Louisiana, who, like me, had a thing for comic books.
"Marvel or DC," he asked one day at the gym.
I answered Marvel, and we hit it off and shortly exchanged books as we both worked in security. One evening we were on post, as everything was quiet when we discussed the things we missed back home, including walking to comic book stores.
"I miss pussy," he said to me. "You do, too, right?"
"Damn, that's random as fuck," I said in response.
"You don't miss it? I wish I could be laid up right now with some chick," he added.
I was coy, wanting to admit that pussy wasn't of my real interest, but couldn't, instead speaking of food.
"A hot dog? You miss hot dogs? Why not a piece of ass from a woman? You know, when you slide that cock in her, you hit the right spot, and she squirms and moans? The scent of a woman? The feel? That don't turn you on," he asked.
He kept poking and I admitted to him that I liked men more, and that I was the one who wanted to provide that pleasure a woman did. He looked smitten at first, confused as to why would I want to be with another man in that capacity. We were quiet the rest of the shift, but hours later when we made it back to the barracks, he knocked on my door, entered, and we kissed, as this was the gateway to him taking my cherry that morning. He was desperate and horny like me, and we both fed our need as he spread me open like a flower, banging me good to where I would swell after. Every weekend after for two years, we'd hang out, and he'd bend me over in the barracks in order to give it to me good, as he'd say.
"You my bitch behind them closed doors," he told me once.
I heeded it, and we never "acted gay," as I kept perpetrating, pretending, and playing along in liking women, fucking them occasionally, and even eating their pussies, but my ass belonged to Kevin per his weekly reminders. I only stopped short of tattooing his name below my ass as his an ode to him, you know, his personal tramp stamp, but then he was discharged, left the country, and I wouldn't hear from him again. I couldn't find anyone else to play with, as Don't Ask, Don't Tell, was certainly in motion at that time, so I endured the law for four more years before deciding to call it quits and receive an honorable discharge, and live life.
"You're making a huge mistake in leaving the service, young man," I remember my mother telling me.
Truth was, war was brewing not only with this country, but within myself, as I wanted to be free. I tried to break away from what I thought was this "curse" of just wanting to get penetrated by another man. I met and married Mandi, a nurse, I went to a trade school and earned my HVAC license, then we left California, moving to Seattle where we had two daughters and one son, and forged a beautiful life. Things seemed perfect in our two-story, four bedroom home, we seemed happy, but a void in me was still needing to be filled, literally. I needed dick, but had no wants of cheating on my wife. I only entertained internally the thought of a threesome, with me and another guy, a black guy, doting all over her, then he giving it to me the same as he did her. I didn't have the courage to even ask to bring another soul into our bedroom, for I knew she's be crushed in knowing someone else could provide me sexual gratification.
May 11, 2003 however, I left the house for a job, and this would change everything.
"Bradley, you have a couple gigs in Bellevue today. Big money action with Teddy," said Carl, the owner and dispatcher of the company I worked for.
Teddy, a vet just like me, was a younger HVAC tech who was still considered an apprentice. He had a knack for using his hands and just an overall quick learner, as we linked on a few jobs prior to this day. I liked the slick-talking, Chicago native, as we'd discuss topics such as food, women, and sports, and how one place in the country was better than the other, as he was a Chicago Southside native, and I was born and raised in San Gabriel Valley of Los Angeles.
"Bulls over Lakers forever man, I care less what you say," we argued once we got to the job site.
This man was delusional as the Los Angeles Lakers were in another prime season, but I loved and respected the 20-something to where we kept it all fun and games. We had a hard project to deliver on at this refurbished home, as we were tasked to break down the central air unit, and to replace some internal vents within the domicile.
"You wonder why Carl puts us on the hardest jobs at times," Teddy complained while driving in the work van to the site.
I explained how it worked with Carl, as being put on the roughest jobs usually meant he liked you, and the rewards would be abound as a result.
"The good jobs, the easy ones with easy pay will be right around the corner for you. He assigned me to work with you to test you, so to speak. Let's get 'er done," I told him.
We started at 9 a.m., and finished what was supposed to be a two day gig, at 5 p.m. that evening. I called Carl to let him know we were finished and heading back to the office to turn in the truck.
"You two head over to Benny's, two rounds on me. I already set it up with the bartenders there," he told me, as he had clout at the local bar.
