This story concerns the first time Rory fully accepts that he is gay, and has sex for the first time. If gay male sex is not your thing, please find another story to read!
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I can't remember when I first really knew that I was gay. I had clues from a fairly early age, but I guess I really started to think about it about when puberty was hitting me and all my friends. While my friends all seemed to be suddenly interested in girls and dating, I wasn't feeling any of it. My best friend in the world was Angie - we were neighbors and had been friends since we were in elementary school. She'd even talk to me about boys as we hit high school - somehow knowing that I was safe to talk to - like she somehow knew that I was gay even before I did.
The older I got, the worse it got for me. I say "worse" because my situation at home was not good. My father was part of a church - you know, the "God hates fags!" crowd. There was simply no way for me to even think that I could be gay - it was a one-way ticket to hell, and I believed that my father would personally send me there. When I was first having the feelings, I would pray for them to go away, but as I grew older, I stopped. I had the sense that this was simply "me" and I could not fight it. Still, I tried to keep it all hidden.
Through it all, my mother was oddly quiet about it. I don't know if she sensed that I was gay, or if she didn't feel the same way as my father, but she clearly did not want to pick a fight with him.
So, I grew up confused. My senior year, after we'd both turned 18, I went to prom with Angie. I still don't know if it was because she thought I was safe or if she just felt sorry for me or if it's just because we were such close friends. We had a good time dancing, and at the end of the night we went out with some of the other kids and got a little drunk and a little high, but nothing happened between us. When I got home, my dad was asking if I "got any" from her.
"Dad! We are not that kind of friends!"
"Come on!" he protested, "just look at those boobs she's got! What kind of friend is she? Are you some kind of queer?"
"George!" my mother almost shouted at him, "Rory does not objectify girls like you do, do not teach him that!"
They ended up in a shouting match, and I just went to bed.
Among the other things I'd argued with my father about was choice of college. I knew that I had an aptitude for, and an interest, in engineering, and I'd narrowed things down to Kansas State, or Wichita State, but Wichita did not excite me as a place to be, and I also knew that K. State had a reputation of being friendly for gays. My dad, of course, wanted me to go to some small Baptist school where they would teach "literal Bible" courses. After some arguments, my mother convinced my dad to let me go to engineering school, as I had promised him that I'd simply move out and do it all on my own rather than going to his choice. So I'd been accepted to, and also had some scholarship money from, K. State, and I was looking forward to getting there in the fall.
After graduation I worked for the summer at the local pool as a lifeguard, and so did Angie. As the summer drew to a close she was preparing to go to the University of Kansas, as I was headed to K. State.
"Hey, Rory," she said to me at the start of our last week, "come eat dinner with me on Friday, what d'you say?"
"Like a date?" I asked, "are you asking me for a date?"
"No, you big dumb jerk, just because we've been best friends since we were like 8 years old and now we're going to be far away from each other for the first time in our lives. Just come eat supper with me!"
"OK," I said to her, "sounds fine. So, like at your house, with your parents?"
"Yes at our house, but Mom and Dad are going out to some fancy doctor dinner thing and they won't be home until at least midnight, we'll have the place to ourselves. I'll order us some pizza and we can drink some of Dad's beers if you want to. He won't care, neither will Mom. At least we are at home. Come on - say yes! Please!?!"
I sighed, "OK, OK, it sounds good - 7:00?"
"Perfect. See you then!"
As I walked up to Angie's house that evening, the pizza delivery guy was just getting there. I paid him for the pizza and just walked on in. Since we were about 12 years old, we'd had no hesitation in just walking into one another's houses.
"Rory, is that you? I don't know what's keeping the pizza guy! He should have been here by now!" she shouted from upstairs.
"He was here just as I got here," I told her. "I paid him and here's the food!"
"I was supposed to pay him!" she protested as she came down the stairway, "I invited you, remember? Now what do I owe you?"
"$500, including the tip!" I said.
"That was one helluva tip!" she said. "Now, seriously, how much did you give him?"
"$35, including tip."
She counted out $35 and handed it to me.
We went to the kitchen and she found two beers in the fridge and opened them, and we started to pig out on the pizza.
"So, Rory," she said, between bites, "I do hope that once you get to Manhattan that you will finally give yourself the space to, um, explore and find yourself."
"What are you talking about?" I asked her.
"You know damned well what I'm talking about. It's just us! No one here to listen in, just open up!"
I just looked at her, probably with a frozen look on my face.
"Oh for God's sake, Rory! You know it, and I know it! We've both known for a long time! It's OK! I love you like a brother - you know, the brother I never had! Damn it, dude, admit it to yourself! It's OK - I want you to be happy, and you'll never be happy if you keep repressing this! You're dad is flat wrong! If there is a God, then she made you this way - there's no way God hates you because of how you were made! Now promise me that you will allow yourself the space to grow into what you were meant to be! You're smart, cool, funny, but you're so beaten down! You need to stop assuming that you're dad is right, and come to the realization that he's just plain wrong! You're beautiful as a gay man - now go out there and let the world see that, too!"
I couldn't believe that she'd just said those words out loud. She was insistent, but she was also smiling at me. I felt the emotions welling up in me and knew that they were soon going to spill out. She could see it, too, and she jumped up from her chair and walked over to me and sat on my lap. She pulled me into a hug and the emotions in me just surged over the top and I started to cry. As cliched as that sounds, I just burst into tears.
"Rory, baby, it's OK! You are what you are, and you need to accept it, and accept that not only is it 'OK', it is beautiful - it is what you are meant to be! You are a fantastic guy, and out there, somewhere, is a fantastic guy that you will complete, and he will complete you!"
I cried on her shoulder for what seemed like forever, holding onto her until my lap and buns were growing numb.
"Um, Angie," I was barely able to get out, "my butt is going to sleep, and I could use a tissue!"
As we let go of the hold we had on one another, she stood up.
"Oh, gross!" she said, "you got snot all over my shirt!"
As she said that she popped the t-shirt up and off, now standing in front of me with just her shorts and her bra. I was a bit taken aback.
"Oh, stop it, you see more of my tits when we're at the pool!"
She turned and headed to the hall.
"I'm going to get a clean shirt - you clean yourself up, and I'll be right back!"
I found the box of tissues and cleaned myself up. Angie came back down wearing a clean shirt.
"So, how long have you known?" I asked her.
"Full on 'known'? Maybe a couple of years. Suspected much longer than that. As we all started to have boyfriends and girlfriends, you never had the least interest - in anyone - well, any girls, and knowing the household you grew up in, never any boys, either, at least not that you could admit.
"At first, I was a little disappointed - I wanted you to show an interest in me," she said, now looking a bit more sheepish, "but I also kind of knew that I was, well, not your type."
"But," I started to protest - she was my best friend, and I suddenly felt like I'd let her down.
"But, nothing!" she interjected, "I quickly began to realize that I had in you what you had in me - a very safe, stable, wonderful friend, in whom we could confide. I would never judge you, and I know that you would not judge me. I told you, I love you like a brother - and I meant it!"
I just sat there. I'd suspected that she knew, but I'd never said anything. Dad's influence was too strong.
"Rory! It's absolutely OK. Look at me!"
I had been staring at the floor, but I looked up at her. Her eyes were soft and showed me nothing but love. Not sexual love, just love.
"I had somehow wished that you would confide in me, but I guess you had to bury it all too deep, and I know that I cannot let you go off to school without talking about it. Hell, too many repressed kids end up committing suicide, and I want you to know that if you ever, and I mean ever, feel like that you call me. I'll drive from Lawrence to Manhattan in an instant - well, I'll start in an instant, and it only takes an hour and a half. Look, everybody needs to know that they have someone to count on, and for you I am that somebody. No ifs, ands, or buts! Look at me Rory! Look me in the eye and promise me that you'll never act before calling me!"
I reached over to her and hugged her again.
"I love you, Rory!" she said. "You are my brother. I'll never stop. NEVER." She pushed back from the hug and looked straight at me. "Promise me!"
"Angie!" I said, starting to cry again, but just a little this time. "I love you, too! Thank you! I need someone to talk to about this! I can't talk to Mom, it'll put her in a bad spot with my dad! I sure as hell can't talk to him about it."
She was just staring at me.
"What?" I asked.
"I want your solemn promise!" she said.
"Oh, yes, Angie, I promise you I will call you! But, I really don't think I will contemplate that!"
"Rory, when you get to Manhattan, go to student services and find someone at school. Promise me you will. They have the resources and it's part of being a student. Find someone and talk to them, and then talk to me, too! I'll always be a safe person to talk to. And, one day, when you are feeling strong enough, you should talk to your mom. She'll be better with it than you think. But only when you're ready, OK?"
We hugged some more, ate our pizza and drank about a six-pack each of her father's beer.
I must have passed out on the couch, because the next thing I remembered was Angie waking me up.
"My folks will be home in about an hour, I'm guessing. You need to go home. Can you walk home?" she asked.