My First Gay Experience

I was thirty and totally straight when I realized I like cock way more than pussy.

A little bit of background first. I was not a virgin, was not molested, and did not "know my whole life" that I was gay. I had many heterosexual relationships; I had sex with women regularly and enjoyed it when I did. I was not homophobic but I was in fact very comfortable being "gay adjacent".

As a kid, when my family went to the Castro district in San Francisco, I was fascinated by the gay culture and curious about the guys' attraction to each other. I couldn't take my eyes off of men when I saw them kissing. In college I was an art major and was very interested in studying anatomy, male and female, drawing nudes and studying classic Greek, Roman and Renaissance statues, especially the ones that celebrated the male physique. I loved the beautifully muscular men's bodies, without them being exaggerated and cartoonish, like modern bodybuilders.

After college I even did some anatomy modeling myself, having a very muscular body. I was proud of my body but a little modest about posing nude so I used a posing strap (basically a G-string), in art classes at colleges but posed nude when modeling for smaller private drawing sessions.

I had been hit on by gay guys many times and I found it flattering, never offensive, but I never took any of the men up on their offers. I had played with my asshole a few times, but only in the context of what it would be like in a straight sex session, if a woman was pleasuring my ass. One time I used my girlfriend's vibrator on my ass when she was out of town. I found the sensation absolutely euphoric and I envied gay guys for being so in touch with this wonderful source of pleasure. I wasn't able to insert the vibrator very far into my ass and I thought "I could never be gay because my asshole is too tight".

I provide this background so you understand how dramatic the change was that I made, or rather, that was revealed, in one day. No matter how much resistance I put up, that resistance was drowned by a tsunami of desire to be passionately, deeply, lustfully fucked and dominated by a man.

I was working as a personal trainer at a gym at the time this happened. I had several clients, gay, straight, men and women, and I had a reputation as a guy who knew what he was doing and had the body to back it up. Like I said, I had done some modeling that required a muscular physique and a handsome face. I had done also some runway and magazine work. I was good looking with a great body but I wasn't going to make a living off of just that. A college girlfriend had talked me into sending nude photos to a female-oriented centerfold magazine. I have a very nice, very big cock, and the magazine wanted me to come to L.A. but I chickened out.

One of my clients from the gym, Scott, was also a very good friend of mine outside the gym. I never thought of him in a sexual way, but he brought me to several gay events, along with his partner. I always felt completely comfortable at these parties, costume and cocktail affairs, because I like showing off my body. I enjoyed the attention I got, and I never felt my masculinity threatened. "I'm comfortable enough with my sexuality that I can wear a pink shirt," I used to say.

One afternoon Scott invited me to an adults-only pool party at a rich gay couple's house where he was house sitting. He said it would be a mixed crowd but mostly gay guys attending. He said he wanted to show me off a little to his friends. I said yes since his desire to be associated with a hot straight guy aligned with my desire to be ogled at and desired. Maybe I would meet a hot woman there.

The day before the party I finished my workout and felt confident that my sculpted arms and thighs, washboard abs, pronounced pecs and bubble ass would turn some heads. I wasn't cocky or conceited but I had received enough compliments to know what I had been blessed with genetically, even if I couldn't take all the credit for it. I then went to the tanning bed studio to add some color.

I knew how obsessed gay guys were with tans and I didn't want to offend anyone with my paleness. I also shaved my cock and balls because the swim suit I was going to be wearing was my posing strap, basically a grocery sack for my cock and balls, and I didn't want any bushy pubes ruining the look. When I finished shaving, I left a pencil- thin landing strip, I looked at my self in the mirror and got an instant hard on. "Damn! I'd fuck me if I were gay", I thought. This is an admittedly narcissistic attitude. It's also a clue that on some level I was sexually excited by men. A straight guy probably wouldn't get a hard on looking at his own hairless cock and balls and smooth anal entrance.

When I arrived at the party, dressed in shorts and a polo shirt, Scott pulled me aside as soon as I stepped into the house. He warned me that at some point there might be a clothing-optional-for-the rest-of-the-party announcement. He was trying to be sensitive to any discomfort I might feel at a party full of naked gay men. I said I would be fine with it.

He told me to jump into my swim suit and come out to the pool to meet everyone. I went to a bedroom and stripped down to my G-string. I checked the mirror and adjusted the sack to fully contain my package, and my cock swelled slightly, pulling the narrow strip of material covering my anus tight. That's going to chafe my asshole if my cock gets any harder, I thought. Be sure not to get a hard on, I cautioned myself.

I stepped out onto the pool deck surrounding an infinity pool overlooking a verdant valley with a sprinkling of mansions dotting the landscape. I looked around and I realized that mine was the skimpiest suit there. Most guys were wearing Speedos, boy-shorts, etc., but none of them had their ass cheeks out like I did. "Whoa, dressed to impress I see," Scott said.

"Yeah, well I thought gay guys liked to flaunt their goods so figured there'd be more guys dressed like me here. Oh well," I replied.

Scott paraded me around the pool area, introducing me to everyone. People were lounging on chaises, laying on towels on the grass, and sitting on the edge of the pool. I had only met a few of the people before, members of the gym where I worked. Only one woman was there, the wife of another guy, not the hot woman I was kind if hoping to meet at the party. Again, oh well.

The guys were a mix of attractiveness, from average to extremely good looking. I was assessing them strictly from the standpoint of a fitness pro and appreciator of anatomical beauty. Of the thirty or so people there, five guys looked like models, very handsome and with incredible bodies. They represented the looks-obsessed faction of gay culture well.

Scott meandered with me around the pool like a show pony, making turns to say "one more thing," causing me to be turned all the way around for all aspects of my nearly naked body to be inspected. The reactions of the guests were mostly predictable; gay guys would look me up and down and smile approvingly, then excitedly whisper to their nearby friends. The straight people just nodded and tried to not look at my brightly displayed crotch. One of the truly beautiful guys, Ted, lifted his sunglasses when Scott said his name.

Ted was laid out on a beach chaise on a white towel. His body was perfect by Greek statuary standards. Very muscular arms, pecs in slabbed squares, eight-pack abs, massive , muscular thighs and contoured calves. But unlike the tiny button of a penis on most steroid-built bodybuilders, his square-cut boy shorts clung to the outline of a very generous cock and ample balls. I had to silently give it to him; he was the epitome of a gorgeous man, gay or otherwise.

I felt a little intimidated by Ted as Scott walked away after the introduction. I stood in front of Ted, casting a shadow over his beautiful, tan body, chiseled facial features and soft, wavy black hair. He looked to be Italian or of some other Mediterranean lineage . He didn't have a single flaw that I could see. "Hey Darren," he snapped me back from my daydream. I realized I had been gazing at him while all those thoughts were going through my mind. His eyes slowly left mine and followed my body down to my cock, presented proudly in my skimpy jock. He stopped there and slowly retraced his gaze back up my body, stopping and locking eyes with me.

He smiled approvingly. I smiled back, also approvingly. Two could play this game, I thought. This kind of undressing me with his eyes and overt sexual attention was a win for me, as it was coming from an Adonis like him. I liked him wanting me, and I guess I wanted to keep it going. "Want a drink?" I asked. I had no idea what or where the drinks were but for some reason I wanted to serve him.

"That'd be great, white wine," he said. As I sauntered toward the house to find the white wine I casually bent over to pick up a pebble on the deck and toss it away before anyone stepped on it with a bare foot. I bent over from my waist in order to give Ted a good deep peek at my virgin asshole barely covered by a strip of Spandex. I looked back over my shoulder and sure enough, Ted had his sunglasses propped up on top of his head and was up on one elbow to watch my ass as I walked away. I smiled at him staring at my ass, and he smiled back sheepishly. I love getting these guys worked up, I mused.

I returned with his white wine and one for myself. His eyes were at the level of my cock and he took his time to look up to thank me. I loved the flirtation, even though I had no intention of it going anywhere. He then dropped his legs off each side of the lounge and adjusted his package beneath the clinging nylon fabric. His cock had swollen slightly and I could clearly see the outline of his cock head, a magnificently defined, flesh-piercing truffle. Now it was my turn to feel in awe. "Touché," I said to myself. My G-string started to pull tighter in my ass crack and I realized that my cock was swelling slightly. "What was it about this situation that was making me flush and my heart race? I'm not gay. I'm as straight as they come. And yet I feel like I am crushing on this guy and I wouldn't object to kissing his beautiful lips and running my fingers along his magnificent chest, down his rippled abs to that outline of a massive cock," I thought.

We made more small talk and everything seemed like a sexual innuendo. I couldn't turn off the flirting, as much as I tried. As we talked, two other things were happening: I was assessing the source of my feelings to fondle him, and why my body was reacting this way when my mind knows I'm straight; and I was visually tracing droplets of sweat as they ran in rivulets down Ted's smooth beefy pecs, across the mogul run that was his washboard abs, and disappeared into the edge of his swimsuit riding just above his pubic ridge. These two opposing forces were confounding me. One felt very logical: I know I'm straight; and the other felt really, really good: I want to be the object of a gay sexual pleasure cruise.

I hadn't noticed but the couples and straight people, other than me, had drifted away and left the party already. Maybe Scott had warned them too about what was coming next but they didn't feel as comfortable with it as I did. Scott announced, "This is it guys, clothing is now optional!" to which a loud cheer went up from the fifteen or twenty remaining men.

Ted locked eyes with me again and stood up. Without taking his eyes off mine, daring me to not look away, he hooked his thumbs into the top of his waist band and pulled his trunks down to his thighs. His beautiful swollen, semi-hard cock, which had been laying sideways when he was laying down, now rolled off his abdomen and fell forward, like a just cut tree in the forest. It stopped at a 45 degree angle from his body, heavy, swelling with blood.

He was taunting me with his body and now with his cock. I realized that I secretly, passionately wanted to devour him, but my head was trying to remind me that's not possible, because I'm not gay. The material running between my ass cheeks was pulling tighter against my hole as my cock started to engorge. "You're not going to join us?" Ted said waving toward all the men who were now sans swimsuits, or any clothing.

I stood up, knowing he was directly challenging me to maintain my premise of being straight. I had to do it because I had to prove it to myself as well. I doffed my trunks all at once, pulling them down to my ankles, and straightened back up. My plump cock jumped when it was released from the posing strap. I didn't realize how swollen it was and now it was inching away from my body as it continued to get harder. This was a problem. Getting hard at the sight of these men would mean I'm gay, or at least I'm on my way. I needed to hide my erection so I turned sideways to Ted. That just made it worse because he could see my big cock growing, continuing to crank higher, and bigger, in profile. I looked for some way to hide my hardening cock.

I noticed three guys, the other beautiful model-types, splashing in the shallow end of the pool. I said to Ted, "I need to cool off," and I jumped into the pool. My blood filled cock felt as big and obvious as a rescue torpedo just under the surface of the water.

The three men in the water were all very handsome and well built - gay eye candy for sure. One of them asked me if I would join them for a chicken fight in the pool, to make the number of players even. If I stood up completely now, my rising cock would be visible for all to see, which would expose to all the men how I really felt. I did not want the three model-boys thinking I was gay, but I agreed to play because I needed an excuse to stay in the water and splash around.

I offered to be the bottom for my teammate, Dylan, and I swam under water between his legs. He had a sprinter's thighs and ass, all muscle, magnificently sculpted. His crotch was shaved bare, as were all the gay men at the party, and his skin looked as smooth as marble. His tan line revealed him to be a G-string wearer as well. At least I had called shaving my cock, balls and ass right.

His cock was well veined and had a doorknob sized head. Not grotesque, just right for his soda can sized shaft. His full balls were bobbing like buoys in the current over my head as I swam between his legs and lifted my shoulders to meet his ass, with his rectum at the nape of my neck. I wrapped my arms around his lower legs and lifted him out of the water.

As the water ran off of us I turned my head to the side and there was his divine cock, laying against my jaw. This was the closest I had ever been to another man's cock, but unlike what I thought my reaction might have been, I didn't want to pull away. His cock shaft felt full and fleshy against my neck and chin.

I quickly turned back and in the process my lips grazed the very ample head of his penis. I felt like bridges were being crossed at a pace that I couldn't control. This proximity to Dylan's beautiful man meat and my brush with his head wasn't helping me to calm down my own cock. Quite the opposite.

Blood was rushing everywhere in my body and I felt hot despite being in the pool. But it was rushing especially to my cock and I felt my cock helmet break the surface of the water. I started wrestling with the other team immediately to distract them from noticing my hard on.

As we laughed and wrestled I intentionally over exerted myself to try and divert the blood to my arms and legs and away from my cock. We fell sideways and Dylan slipped around my neck and off my shoulders, with his ankles now resting on my trapezius muscles. He was floating on his back, facing me. But more significantly, his previously relaxed soda can-sized cock was growing into a pound sized package of spaghetti noodles, with all of the attendant ridges and girders.

"We're a good team," he said as he watched my cock head sway above the water's surface like a periscope. I told Dylan and the other two guys, Phillip and Ray, that I had to get out and use the bathroom. I clutched a beach towel to my crotch to hide my fully erect cock as I waddled to the house.

The house was gorgeous and I found the master bathroom. The house belonged to a gay couple, doctors, and they obviously had exquisite taste. The master bed was an ocean of silky smooth black satin sheets, comforter and pillows. I wondered how many men's asses had been fucked and cocks sucked on that bed. I pictured a threesome of hot guys shooting cum loads into each other's asses and mouths on that bed and cum drizzled like caramel sauce on an ice cream cone, on those sheets.

I envied gay guys for their man-to-man, no pussy headaches romantic relationships, as well as their lack of sexual inhibitions. I started to question whether my sexuality was as clear as I thought it was. "Were there signals all along? Was my curiosity and fascination with gay culture really a desire to be part of it?" I wondered.

On paper I was a perfect candidate for a prototypical gay man, at least as much as Scott had described the typical gay man ti me. I was an art major in college. I worked in a gym. I loved the male anatomy. And I worked on perfecting my own body to make it essentially the pinnacle of attraction to gay men. After all, most women didn't really care about muscles on their straight boyfriends and husbands. This was a moment, an opportunity, to really test my sexual identity.

I was pretty sure my arousal due to all this male stimuli was a fluke and furthermore I was willing to bet my pride on it. It would be quite embarrassing if I had been introduced at the beginning of the party as Scott's straight friend, which he emphasized to each guest, worried that I might feel objectified I guess, and then suddenly be the guest aroused by men to want to fuck one of their asses, or worse, want them to fuck mine. I decided I would let my body tell me what I wanted. My head could be tricked.

I would go back out there, now that my cock was calm and relaxed again, to see if my theory was correct that I could remain unaroused throughout the rest of my interactions at the party. I looked in the mirror again and admired my alluring body.

Now that the party was sans swimwear, I was naked for all to see, shaved cock, balls and ass, brimming with virility and masculinity. I turned and checked my look from behind. It was a beautiful ass, if I do say so myself. I bent over and looked at my asshole. It was a rosebud of skin folds leading to a tunnel of love. Like I said, I'd love to fuck me, if I could.

Looking at my love hole made me think something was missing from this challenge. I found a big jar of sex lube in the bathroom and I palmed a large puddle of it and massaged it into my sphincter. At first my hole was tight but as soon as ran a finger inside my hole it started to dilate. I knew this reaction about myself when I had played with my ass in the past. Now my waiting love hole was dilating and loaded with lube. Not that I would need it but it only seemed fair to fully present both arguments for and against any latent homosexuality on my part.

I headed back out to the pool, determined to keep my cock calm and unexcited. As soon as I got outside I saw Ted again. He smiled when he saw me and said "Where'd you run off to? I was afraid you left the party." I immediately felt like I wanted to serve him again and I grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses and went to him.

"Can I pour you some wine?", I asked. "Why did I sound like I was his waiter and not his equal?", I asked myself. I handed him a glass of wine as my eyes feasted on his body, that smile, that cock. My balls started to tighten and my cock started getting heavy. Uh-oh, it was starting to happen again. There would be no way to hide a hard on this time and no way to explain it away as anything but a real sexual attraction to a hot man!