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it’s not just the greyish tattoos going down one of his skinny-but-toned arms, his swimming-pool-blue eyes, or his floppy hair dyed platinum at the ends. There’s also something sort of…swaggy about him. He’s not someone I would ever usually talk to, but…but. There is a but, and I don’t know what that but is.
did I really just flirt with a gay guy? Me, Henry Morgan, the captain of my Lacrosse team and the winner of the Most Charming award at Savannah Christian Prep? To make matters even more confusing, there is already a series of Facebook messages waiting when I get home and check my phone again, all from the profile of Edward Ty Stanton: Goodness fucking gracious. Please pardon my language, but something about that meeting was really hot. Oh, and by the way, nice meeting you, Henry Morgan. And one last thing: I would REALLY like to see you again. I smile, my face getting all hot and antsy and
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As I study him, I realize I want to turn him over in my bed and explore a few things, see how he tastes and smells and feels, and compare it to the women I’ve been with….
I take a shower and jack off, as usual – but what would you guess I imagine as I rub myself, against all odds? Ty, playing with me, touching me, doing things with me that I’ve only ever done with girls…
It is my professional opinion that modern American society needs to forget everything it thinks it knows about human sexuality. In my studies I have observed dozens of people discovering a sudden attraction to the same sex, regardless of decades-long histories of heterosexuality. Many prominent voices agree that sexuality is not even genetically determined, so why wouldn’t it change and switch and adjust and flex, like the weather? A human can be attracted to slim, brown-eyed brunettes, for example, regardless of that brunette’s gender. This phenomenon is now known as pansexuality. Also, our
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Fuck Dyson – I know all about sucking, Henry. In fact, I’ll do it better than any girl ever has. For hours, if you want. I stop breathing. Before I can even think of what to say, he’s sending something else: Check your Snapchat. Still not breathing, I open the app, which we added each other on last night. I open his picture, and it’s a lump in his pants that he’s holding with his hand. A very thick, and long, lump. Send one back, he says, and I close my eyes and open them again. Without thinking, I point my phone down, grab my cock, which is almost fully hard, and snap a picture. He opens it
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Before I can stop myself, I start typing. Because the truth is this: I want to see him, too. I want to see him more than I’ve wanted anything in a while, and it is shocking and enthralling and terrifying to me. Yes, let’s hangout, I say, and then I start shaking. Okay, sweet, I’ll be over at eight-ish. I can’t wait to Netflix and chill with you! This stops me in my tracks. I know exactly what “Netflix and chill” means, in “straight language” at least – it means sex. And I don’t even know how to have sex with him, even though I know I may want to explore the option. Dicks don’t lie, and mine
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“And yesterday, I walk on the bus and hit on you like a crazy person, and you felt…what?” “Wait, you hit on me? I thought you were just being nice, and then we clicked…” He giggles. And is he really blushing, or am I imagining it? What if I’m making him lose interest by proving how much of a newbie I am? “Trust me, I don’t see people like you and hit on them to be nice.”
“By the way, has anyone ever told you that you look like Justin Bieber, but in like, the best way possible?” He laughs and sweeps aside his hair. “Yeah. It’s cool. I get that a lot, actually. My dick’s not as big, though.” “Dick?” He does a double take. “You mean you haven’t – wait, of course you haven’t seen the leaked nudes. Here, I’ll show you. Can I test you?”
“Seriously. What do you feel? I’m just curious. I’ve never encountered anything like this before.” “Um…nothing.” He looks down at my crotch, which is obviously not enlarged at the moment. But what I don’t mention is that I’m trying to keep it from getting hard. “Wow. You’re right. Maybe you’re only gay for me.”
“Here’s an idea. It’s October – let’s find a scary movie on Netflix.” Scary movie…Netflix…I know what these words mean. He wants dick. And I can feel it, too – the air seems full of the innuendo he’s just laid out there. That’s fine, because that’s where a straight date would go at this point, too – but where would we even begin? “Okay, but…I have to tell you something.” “Yeah?” he asks. “I’m interested, but…I don’t know the first thing about gay sex, if it gets there.” “Sex?” he laughs. “Trust me, I move fast, but not that fast. I’m a good Southern lady, you know.”
“It’s just that…eventually we’ll also maybe have to figure out if you’re a bottom or a top. That decides everything, when you’re gay.” “Bottom? Top?” “How did you think gay sex works?” “Oh. Well, I mean, I knew one had to be…the catcher…” “Yes, and that whole dynamic is a huge part of gay culture. You have to date someone you’re compatible with. God, you’re so clueless, it’s adorable.”
“how are you single right now? Can I ask that?” He frowns a little. “Being a guy who dates guys is…different.” “Why?” “Because only fifteen percent of people are gay. So there aren’t many gay guys out there, just by the numbers – and there are even less date-able ones.”
“I’m kind of glad I met you,” he murmurs, his breath on my face. “I’m glad I took the bus.” He leans in and puts a hand on my leg, making me go numb. To have a male’s hand in my lap, firm and heavy, feels foreign and strange and more than a little amazing. Still, it’s terrifying. I tense, then I smile. “I’m glad, too. You’re cool. And…” “And what?” “…Hot.” He moves his hand closer. “Wow.” “I know, I can’t believe I just said that, either. The thing is…” “You have a certain view of the word ‘straight,’ and it involves fast cars and cold beer and slutty girls?” he asks. “I mean…pretty much.”
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I can’t believe I’m doing this, French kissing a guy, but even more than that, I can’t believe how much I’m coming to love it. “Fuck,” he exhales, pushing me back and sort of climbing up on my lap as we kiss. It’s so sudden, I can’t stop him. Then I realize I don’t even want to stop him. “Ugh, you’re so hot. This is so random, but I can’t control it anymore.” I feel myself busting out of my pants, and I realize this is going too quickly. I press pause and squeeze his shoulder. “Ty?” “Yeah?” “Hold on. Let’s just…chill. Please.” He leans back. “Sorry. Did I do too much?” “No. I want more. I just
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“Can you take off your shirt, too?” he asks, and I take a breath. “Sure.” Ever-so-slowly I remove my shirt, and I close my eyes when I’m done – I’ve never had a guy’s gaze on me in this way. “Wow,” he breathes. “You’re perfect. Can I touch your chest hair?” I swallow. “What little I have of it, yeah.” My dick gets harder than a boulder as he reaches over and nuzzles my patch of chest hair between my nipples. “Fuck. And your pants?” Reluctantly I start taking off my khakis, my mind spinning with fear and insecurity and glee. “…And your boxers?” Cringing, I slide out of my boxer-briefs. I am now
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“What?” “I forgot how good you look.” “How good is good?” I smile. “Perfect.”
And that does it – I lean in, despite myself, and suddenly we are kissing again. Then we start rubbing and moaning and touching until we are naked again, and it becomes clear where this is going – even if I still can’t totally believe it’s happening. I’m barely awake and yet here we are, all over each other. “Wait. I don’t know what to do next,” I say. “Sit on my face,” he spits out, looking down at my chest. “What?” “You have the hottest body I’ve ever seen and I want you to sit on my face.” I look away. “What’s wrong?” “I just…I don’t know how to do that.” “What? Hasn’t a girlfriend ever sat
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It feels a hundred times, a thousand times, better than anything a girl has ever done before. It’s like he knows what my body wants more than I do. And he has the same body as me, so maybe he does know…
“Fuuuuck,” I breathe when we’re done. “That was so much better than anything any girl has ever done to me before. That thing you did with the suction…Jesus, what is your magic?” He just smirks. As he pulls on his clothes a few minutes later, I stop him twice to kiss him – I’m not done with him yet, and it’s like the kisses get better with every try. He’s so different from a girl, but not in a bad way – in a new and fun and exciting way. I consider asking him to have breakfast, but probably fifty people live in view of my stoop, so he should probably just go before it gets any later. He might
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I kinda like you. Okay, not kinda like you, I definitely like you.
“Dude,” he asks incredulously. “Do you have a hickey? I haven’t gotten one of those since we were in Mrs. Koch’s sixth grade homeroom class together.” I try not to let the horror show on my face as I take out my phone and stare at the reflection of the violet marks blooming north of my collarbone. How the fuck did I let him do that? I didn’t even let girls do that…
Is this because of-” “Because of what?” He glances over my shoulder, then plays with his cuticle. “Nothing, it’s just…did I see you outside your house with that one kid? The one who had blue hair last year? ‘Gothic Justin Bieber,’ as people call him?” I grip the table. “Um. Maybe.” “Well I was driving my dog to the vet, and I saw you guys. Is he your partner for that project?” I gulp, then shrug. Why would I run away from something I’m not even ashamed of? And he’s given me the perfect excuse, after all… “Yeah, I guess,” I finally say. “Why?” He smile-frowns. “Well, isn’t he…isn’t he super
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Bisexuality with guys is just a slippery slope, he says soon. A hard path to navigate. Girls are allowed to be bisexual and sexually adventurous, gender-wise. When they make out at bars or parties, they’re the hot, sexy chicks who are down for anything and love a good time. But a GUY who discovers he’s suddenly bi is usually called “confused” and “misguided” and “just trying to hide his homosexuality.” Good luck… I frown at his response, then type my own: I never said the word “bisexual.” That’s simple-minded. What if I don’t want to choose? Why can’t I just be a dude with a boyfriend? Why
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Fuck the world, and fuck what they think, she says. Go for it. Do you. And so that’s exactly what I do. I go for Ty Stanton. Come over, I text Ty, feeling buzzed and exhilarated and also a little lonely. When? Now. Now? Now, I repeat. Okay. Getting in shower. I’ll be over soon.
And my feelings for him might confuse me, but I didn’t go twenty-five years without tasting a penis just to wait any longer… Taste a penis. Yes, that’s what I want to do today, and I can’t believe it. But I decided last night when I woke up into pitch-blackness: that’s what I want. I want to suck him more than I’ve ever wanted anything before.
“That’s the beauty of talking to another dude – you can have all the sex you want. I’m just as horny as you are – I’m wired the same way. But…if we have three sexy meet-ups in a row, I might start to get concerned. You’ve gotta break it up a bit.” I laugh and devour his lips with mine. “What was your favorite thing to do with girls?” he asks, pulling away. “Lick them out,” I say without hesitation. “I could do it for hours. Why?” “Because I want to keep things familiar for you, at first. And okay, that is so hot.” “Really? Can I do it to you?” His eyes light up. “I mean, if I must…” He rests
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“Jesus,” he pants, sliding back from under me. “What?” “You swallow? In the first few days? Did I win the lottery or something and not notice it?” I don’t know what he means. “Huh? Is that not a thing people do?” “If they’re nasty, they do…” “Oh,” I frown, still reveling in his aftertaste. “Did you not like it? Remember, I was straight. I don’t know these things…” He messes with my matted hair. “Henry, stop. It was the sexiest thing of my life. But I still think I should teach you my ways. We could have so much fun together.” “Yeah?” “Yeah. Let’s have some gay lessons. If you want to continue
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We head into my bedroom. He’s already getting more familiar with my house, and it makes me smile for some reason. “I have a question,” I say soon. “What does it feel like to have a finger inside you?” “That,” he laughs, “will be discovered later. I have to give you something to look forward to, don’t I?”
Some time after our hookup – time just seems to bleed together with him – night descends, and we order two pizzas and pig out on my bed. When we’re full and sleepy, I clear my throat, my legs all wrapped in his. (Another thing I notice around him is that I want my hands to be on him at all times. He just makes me feel warmer. I was never like that with anyone before, which I chalked off to my distant father and his habit of never, ever hugging me.) “Okay, let’s start the lessons now. I have so many questions for you. About the whole…the whole gay thing.”
“Anyway, how many guys have you dated?” “I’ve had two serious boyfriends.” “Was it hard? To break up?” His eyes glaze over. “One of them, yes. I still think about it sometimes. We tried to stay friends, but it’s awkward.” “You still talk?” “I mean, occasionally. We have this thing where we both meet up every Christmas Eve to get drunk together, since our families weren’t always supportive. We still go to Club One or Chuck’s Bar that night every year and get totally wasted. It didn’t work out, and it’s in the past. I enjoy his friendship, though.” Something is unsettling about this, but I try
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“Okay. Society took a hard turn to the right, and gays needed protection – so to please Christians who preached that God made everyone perfectly, we said, ‘Hey, don’t hate me, God made me like this!’ That was the defense. But to me, sexuality can be like picking up tennis as a hobby, or taking a cooking class – you try, you experiment, you see what you like. I know a lot of people who just look for people instead of genders, and they’re fine with it. Obviously a lot of people are just straight, and a lot of people are just gay. But the in-between is so much bigger than anyone will ever know.”
“Not saying that at all. I’m just saying our meeting happened, and it’s been great, so let’s enjoy it and not overthink ourselves into insanity. You don’t have to label anything. Do you like hanging out with me?” “I think I might love it,” I say quietly. He smiles so big, it makes me crumble inside. “And I love seeing you, too. So let’s leave it that for now, okay?” “Deal,” I smile. “But actually, you know what’s funny?” “What?” “You already seem so comfortable with this. Trust me, I’ve been pursued by some super-closeted guys before, and everything about them reeked of self-hatred and
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“How do guys have sex? Real, full-on sex?” He bites his lip, his eyes swirling with something dark. “We’ll cover that soon. Right now, just shut up and kiss me.” “Just kiss?” “Sitting on my dick would be great, too, but we’ll cross that bridge when it comes. Right now I just want to kiss my dude.” Ty stays until his building’s curfew starts to approach. When he’s gone I realize he’s left his undershirt behind, this faded tie-dye thing that says ATLANTA PRIDE 2014. I don’t tell him, though – instead I lay it on my bed and sleep next to it. I don’t think I’m done with his scent just yet.
Oh, God – he looks so cute, here in the light, and it makes me more nervous than anyone ever has before. And I still can’t believe I’m calling a guy cute, but I am. Sue me
“Howdy,” he says. “How goes it?” I look around to make sure nobody’s listening. “Half mast,” I whisper. “But pretend I never said that.” He smiles so large, his blue eyes crinkle. I can’t process how badly I want to push him up against the wall and kiss him, touch him, explore him again. Why does he have to look so hot all the time? Why can’t he just save it for me, or something? “How are you feeling?” I ask him. “Honestly? I want to hook up again, but pretend I never said that, too.”
Society tells us that sexuality is a two-way street, straight or gay, pick one and move on. But I think that’s wrong. I don’t even think sexual categories exist, really – it’s like the wind. When is the wind ever blowing exactly north, south, east or west? Whatever happens with you, good luck. But I think you should stop thinking and just follow the wind.
“By the way,” Anisha says soon, “please don’t date.” I throw a look at Ty, who glances back at her. “Why do you say that?” “Because you’re both already too hot on your own, and a combination like that would make the fucking world explode.”
“So…which one are you?” I ask. “Are you usually on the receiving end?” His blue eyes sparkle. “No. I’ve done both, but with my past boyfriends I was usually the giver. But obviously that will change with you.” “Why?” “You haven’t even taken a finger yet, Henry. You’re still a while away from taking anything more. Trust me.”
“Already? But-” “I want to be inside you,” I murmur into his ear, and he freezes. “I want to have sex with you like I had sex with my girlfriends. I want to try.”
the things that really hurt are the gestures, the stares, the narrowed eyes. You can make someone feel like shit without doing anything at all.”
“Sorry,” I say, wiping my chest. “That didn’t last very long. And why are you staring at me?” “Because that was the hottest thing of my life, and you’re crazy to be sorry.” I toss aside the towel and sit up. “Okay, well sit back now, because it’s my turn.”
WAIT: one last thing. Yes? I ask. Can you please not wear anything revealing? Being around you is already hard enough, with the way everyone looks at you, and I’ll have one of those mood swings I mentioned if I have to fend people off all night.
I don’t know if most of them are drag queens or trans women or cross dressers or what, but I am fascinated by all of it, and open to it, too.
“I never thought about it like that…” “That’s what I’m here for, babe.”
“What about my sexuality, though?” He frowns. “Hmm. You know how the correct term for the community is LGBTQ? I think you would be the Q, for questioning.” “But there’s no ‘questioning’ how I feel about you,” I murmur into his ear, and his whole body shivers, telling me it’s going to be a very good night.
When we get to the gay club, though, I freeze. Suddenly I just can’t go in. It’s too soon. He walks over to me. “Henry. Calm down, babe. Nobody you know will be here, anyway. Just take a shot once we get inside, chill out, and everything will be fine.” “Okay,” I say, something in his eyes making me believe in him. I wasn’t that scared of being seen, it was just that hitting up a gay bar this early into things seemed like it was a lot. But what if I started acted too hesitant, and he lost interest in me? He starts to head into the club, but I grab his arm. He turns. “Ty?” I ask. “Yeah?” “I
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“Hey. What do you think you’re doing?” He looks back at his friends. “What?” “Dancing, flirting, talking with all these guys? You’re with me. Do not forget that.” I place a hand on his dick, which sends a charge through my whole body. “When you are with me, this is mine. Do you understand?” His eyes roll back into his head. “Fuck, that was so hot. Do it again.” “Seriously. Stop. I don’t like this.” His eyes slide open, and soon he’s laughing. “Henry. Henry. There is so much you need to learn. These are my girlfriends.” “What? But they’re guys.”
“Okay. I guess that makes sense. I’ll try to learn. But Ty? Let anyone feel you up, and I will fucking punch them out.”
What would I even say? Hey, ex-girlfriend, I’m here with my quasi-boyfriend. Wanna meet him?
