I was in the eleventh grade and had a friend, Randy, who was all the rage with the girls. Handsome, tall, athletic, smart. The son of a doctor and a lawyer. But, in spite of me, he liked me and we hung out together. One afternoon while we were at his house, a big house with many bedrooms, he came up to me from behind and hugged me. He told me he appreciated that I was his friend. The hug lasted a few minutes, it was a hug holding me close to him. Close enough to feel his belt buckle.
That afternoon I lay on his bed naked with him against the headboard and me sucking on his penis. I didn’t suck on it, I kissed it and made love to it. I was already in love, but having his penis in my hands and being able to kiss it. I kissed it with loving care. Until Randy got to humping back, after which I rolled over onto my stomach and Randy got on my back and, there it was, my first time.
Randy like me was gay, just different kind of gays. Randy had the floor when he spoke, and I adapted to him. When Randy wanted to kiss, it meant I wanted to kiss too. When Randy walked over to me naked, I just had to kiss his member. I’m that kind of gay, and Randy is the kind of gay that no one expects him to be gay. The girls liked him, but he didn’t date girls, didn’t go to prom. On prom night we went to IHOP and I had my hand in Randy’s lap stroking his penis.
