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Maybe it was the party, maybe it was the trash-can punch, who knows, maybe I had just finally truly come to grips with my sexuality, but that night with Wayne will always seem fresh in my mind. I remember it almost every day, bringing up every detail and refreshing it in my mind so that it seems like it was only last night that I found myself wandering into the small, darkened bedroom in the depths of the frat house.
I didn’t see him there at first, the bright lights of the front room still sparkling in my blurred eyes. But as my vision adjusted, I realized that there was someone laying sideways across the bed.
“Oh,” I said, “I didn’t realize there was someone in here. I’ll go,” and I started to leave.
Whoever was on the bed raised his head and said, “Robin? Is that you?” I recognized the voice as Wayne’s. I paused for a moment, then turned back into the room.
“It’s me,” I said.
“You don’t have to leave,” he said, propping himself up onto his elbows. There was something in his voice that said while I might be a company, anyone extra would be a crowd. So I closed the door behind me as I moved over
to sit down by him on the bed.
He laid back down, and for a few minutes, neither of us said anything. I trembled, physically and mentally, at the intimacy of the moment. My slightly blurry brain searched for something to say. I wasn’t used to starting conversations. More importantly, I wasn’t used to being the aggressor and that was what I suddenly felt the desire to be now.
**Lean body…**
I stared at Wayne’s body stretched out before me. He was tall, and thin, with the long lanky limbs that I loved – I love. He wore his usual outfit of faded, almost-tight blue jeans and a subdued Polo shirt, tucked in at the waist. His arms were up, folding under his head to support it, and that emphasized the leanness of his body. I could see him breathing.
I suddenly caught my reverie and in desperation to break it before I did something foolish, I said the first thing that came into my mind, “Some party, huh?” And immediately regretted it. How stupid!
But I guess it was the right thing because it started him talking. “Yeah, it was. Until Lisa dragged me back here.”
I thought about prompting him, but remembering that my tongue has a tendency for stupidity when I’ve been drinking, I waited out an explanation.
“She thinks we should see other people,” he said, bitterly, “She thinks that we should ‘be friends’!” His voice took on a harshly mocking tone, and he slammed his arm down beside him onto the bed.
“Oh,” I said, still fumbling for words, “that’s… awful.” Another brilliant insight. I screamed out inside at my inability to do anything right. And then, almost without thinking I reached out and took his hand. What could have possibly made me do that?
But much to my shock, he reached down with his other hand and pressed mine inside both of his.
**Holding hands…**
I don’t know about other people, but I always find it amazing when anyone shows an interest in me. I just don’t expect people to find me interesting or attractive. And so I sat there for who knows how long just enjoying our holding hands, not doing anything for fear that it would change the moment that it would break the feeling and force it to end. I wanted it to last forever.
But it finally ended as he pulled me down to lay beside him on the bed. He hesitantly moved one of his hands up to stroke my hair, and looked at me with his dark brown eyes, which looked like endlessly deep pools of blackest ebony in the dim light of the unlit room, and said, “I don’t want to be alone right now.”
I knew he was using me. I knew that he was just hurting from Lisa’s rejection that he was reaching out to the first warm body he found, but I didn’t care. I had watched him from a distance for so long now, had been so positive that he didn’t feel anything towards me – at least nothing like what I felt for him – that I was willing to let him use me, for one night of delusion. For one night to be able to believe that he was attracted to me, that he wanted me, that our attractions were shared, I would do almost anything.
**Almost anything…**
And I realized then, that if I was going to make this night worth a whole lifetime, I would have to do the ‘almost anything’. I would have to do what I had never done before, I would have to go out to the limits of what I could give, I would have to give him more than I had ever given anyone else. I would have to not just let him take what he wanted, I was going to have to be active, I was going to have to *do*, not merely *allow*.
“You’re not alone,” I said, taking the hand he ran through my hair into mine, and putting it down beside him. “Relax,” I explained, “Just lay there. Let me… let me love you.”
His eyes searched mine for a moment; he almost seemed ready to refuse me, but then his lids dropped down over his eyes and he laid his head back onto the bed, saying not a word.
I moved down on the bed until I was at the level of his belt. Slowly, I reached out and press my hand against the rise in his jeans just below the buckle. It was warm. He was warm. I slid my hand down the rise and then down his far thigh. I was hard and felt good under the denim of his jeans. I pulled my hand back and stopped for a moment. I realized that I wasn’t breathing.
I closed my eyes and just breathed for a moment, and tried to avoid asking myself what I was doing. No more thought, no more questions. I had to act, not think. Now or never.
**Hyper-ventilate…**
I opened my eyes and reached for his belt. This time I remembered to breathe, but I kept my breathing as shallow as I could, afraid that if I didn’t my excitement would overcome me, and I would hyper-ventilate and pass out. Wouldn’t that be sexy?
I undid his belt and then his jeans. Slowly, I undid all the buttons in his button-fly. As my hands work over it, I could feel his penis beginning to get larger, and warmer. I reached inside his jeans and tremulously I took hold of his penis through the fabric of his jockeys. I had wondered many times what Wayne’s erection would be like, watching him with Lisa, and now with it here in my hand, it felt good. As I varied my grip and moved my hand slightly up and down, it grew even larger and harder.
It was getting more and more difficult to take my time about this. I let go of him and with both hands gripped his jeans and jerked them down, then I pulled his jockeys down with another lack of delicacy. His penis leaped, free. I took it full in my hand, and it felt hot enough to burn me. I leaned my face towards its end, and the musky smell of him hit me in the face. Intellectually I knew that I should be repulsed, but on a deeper level I relished the smell. I drew a deep breath in through my nose to let the scent fill my brain like a pull on an opium pipe, and it thrilled me.
**Taste…**
As I began to work for my hand up and down, I brought the end up and my lips down for a gentle dry kiss on the glans. Then I wet my lips and opening my teeth while pursing my mouth I pushed it down over the glans. The taste of him blasted full in my mouth, and again I was mentally slammed by the repulsion/ecstasy dichotomy. But now even the feeling of repulsion only excited me more. Anything – I would do anything for him.
I pushed him farther into my mouth. Suddenly, his penis seemed huge, it filled my mouth to overflowing, but I couldn’t seem to get enough of him. I began throbbing my head, up and down, his penis sliding between my clasped lips, and rubbing against my tongue which I pushed greedily up against it, trying to pull even more of his flavor from him. At the top of my strokes, I would play over his glans with the tip of my tongue, but as I grew more and more fevered I stopped because my strokes were too fast to allow such details.
I also had to stop playing because his hips began to rock with me, and I had to start shortening my strokes for fear that he would slip outside of my mouth. Suddenly that thought seemed like death to me. Deeper and deeper I pushed him into my mouth, and harder and harder I sucked, trying to get all of him into me that I could.
**Jerking…**
Then with a sudden, spasmodic jerking, he ejaculated. The semen was strangely cool in my mouth after the extended burning heat of his penis. But I didn’t linger on the thought. I swallowed quickly and then pushed him as far into my mouth, into my throat, as I ever had so far and started gulping passionately, trying to get every drop of him deep into me as fast as I could. At that moment if I could have swallowed him whole I would have.
In a span of time that was both an eternity and an instant, he was done and sagging back down onto the bed from the height to which his jerking had lifted his hips. Sadly, I let his penis slip out of my mouth, then I lay there a moment and caught my breath.
It had been too much. My mind was blank and my body buzzed. There was a ringing in my ears, and my heart was still beating so hard I was afraid that it would surely stop and that I would have killed myself with sex. Not a bad way to go, but I was young yet!
Slowly, the thought came back to me and I moved back up the bed to lay beside Wayne and to look into his eyes. He turned his to look at me, and whispered, “Thank you.”
I just lay there looking into his deep, deep eyes. Forever – this had to last forever.
He grew restless after a moment or two, perhaps misunderstanding my silence and my glowing look, and he tried to explain. “I, uh, I can’t… I mean, I don’t think I can…”
“Shhhsh,” I said, “I understand. Let’s just lay here for a while, okay?” He didn’t have to do anything for me. Giving me something to remember at night for the rest of my life was more than enough.
And it doesn’t even matter that he never spoke to me again. I had expected that.
It was only one night, but it has lasted this much of my lifetime, at least, and I don’t expect to lose it soon. It was special and always will be; so will he.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/jon54m/mf_1st_oral_if_i_was_your_girlfriend_a_college