Addiction

When James sent me a text after months apart, I knew I could not resist him, or his cock.

When I saw his text, I answered immediately. It had been months since we communicated and I had been thinking of him.

Years ago, I met James on a gay hook up app. It wasn’t my first time on a gay app, nor the first time I had been with a man. I had made the random decision to try to live a normal life without really knowing what normal meant to me. I tried to be straight but it didn’t work.

Up late one night, browsing through a bunch of profiles, with plenty of dick pics I came across his. Fully dressed, smiling, very handsome; I sent a hello and he responded almost immediately. He did give me the hardcore hey wanna meet up and fuck pitch from the start, but when I reacted with hesitation, he changed his stance. We slowed down the gay app courtship from mere minutes to nearly a week.

Once the door closed at his house, the aggression came back and I wanted it. We kissed deeply on the foyer before he suggested we go upstairs to the bedroom. We stripped naked, jumped into bed. I kissed my way down his chest and stomach, took his cock into my mouth and gave a long blowjob. He finally asked if he could fuck me and I agreed without hesitation. I got into the doggy position, wiggled and waited for his uncovered cock to enter me. And when it did, I swooned. Literally swooned.

Over the preceding years I never really had a boyfriend. While I knew I was gay from the moment my balls dropped, probably earlier if I am being honest, I never really acted on it. Sure, I played grab assed with friends in the community pool, or just goofing around, but that wasn’t sexual. Not for them. By the time I hit 18 during my senior year (for legal purposes we are all 18 when these events take place.) I had never with a boy in any sexual way, but that changed the day after my 18th birthday when I blew a married man in the neighborhood. He had been badgered me years with his offhand remarks and casual innuendo, I gave in. It was fantastic and just reenforced what I already knew. He tried his best to sodomize me, but his penis wouldn’t cooperate and the tightness of my virgin anus didn’t help. I also knew with astonishing clarity that I held no attraction for females. At least sexual. I often admired them from afar, dreaming that one day I too could be a girl. But the thought of not having a penis, not having the opportunity to masturbate blocked any real ambition. From the gay pornographic magazines, I found in the dumpster behind my local 7Eleven…I should pause and mention all of these early transgressions occurred in the early 80s. Gay porn mags were on the rack next to the straight porn. Store owners simply tore off the covers to get credit from the publishers and threw the rest of the magazine away. Often, they just threw them away, and I knew exactly what day and time that occurred.

Before my senior year I hid my sexuality as best I could, especially in gym class but sometimes biology just gives you away. I learned to avert my eyes pretty quick, knowing the simplest glance would cause my cock to spring to life. And my barely secret life given the light of day.

I had learned to control my urges pretty well, buried deep in a teenager’s closet, but made two mistakes in the spring of my senior year, both of which actually turned out rather well.

The first one occurred when I told my best friend, Kimberly Logan, about my homosexuality. She immediately confessed that she knew and when pressed for details, admitted that I gave off a certain energy. Not a full-blown swish with a lisp, but enough to cause people to wonder. She said her girlfriends wondered as much as she did. And when I admitted my preference for the male form, she squealed in delight.

The second mistake took place in gym class, 6th period last class of the day, when my gaze lingered on Ethan Colburn a few seconds too long. All the girls loved Ethan Colburn. Classically handsome, charming, kind as they come; Ethan walked on water.

When his eyes caught mine, he just smiled as he stood up, completely naked, towel on his shoulder. I stared at his perfect, firm round ass as he walked. When he looked back over his should I did not avert my gaze. But I did dress quickly, racing out of the locker room and buried myself in the throng of students racing to get off campus and go home.

After a six-mile bus ride and a two mile walk to my home, I locked myself in my bedroom and masturbated to the sight of a naked Ethan Colburn.

The very next day, just before first bell rang out Ethan Colburn cornered me against a locker. Surprisingly, he didn’t have his usual entourage of hangers on with him.

Hey, he started, his eyes burning into me, his perfect lips curling into a perfect smile, his shining teeth twinkled in the early morning sun, I have to ask you something?

I leaned into his masculine space to see if he would recoil, but he did not. I said: Sure, anything.

I think you’re a fag. His smile did not break, but my heart did. Just a little. I had been threatened before by insecure guys that took exception to my smart mouth and, apparently, my gay vibe. Being a big, tall muscular guy usually provided enough to get anyone to back down. Are you a fag?

I hesitated. The way he said fag didn’t come across as a slur. It felt more like an invitation.

I am, I said softly, but with firm conviction. I knew my own truth, even then. I’m a fag.

Good. Ethan moved in a way that I thought he might kiss me. Most of the kids had made it into their classrooms and both he and I would be late for first period. So am I. We should hang out.

Yeah? When?

Today, after school. My parents are never around.

That afternoon, on Ethan Colburn’s bed I lost my virginity. He took his time, showed me what to do and not to do, although I had a fairly good idea based on dumpster diving for gay porn mags that were just thrown out when the new month’s copies came in. Certain articles proved very helpful.

Ethan Colburn and I were lovers, what might now call fuck buddies. He introduced me to a few of his like-minded friends and a good time was had by all. He also introduced me to cocaine, which would prove problematic for the next few decades.

For the rest of that school year and through the summer, Ethan Colburn and I were inseparable. And no one knew other than Kimberly. And my mother.

My divorced, swing-shift working mother caught me blowing Ethan Colburn on the living room couch. She came home early from work for whatever reason, calmly walked past Ethan and I, and went into her bedroom. Neither Ethan nor I realized what had happened, and I continued until he painted my throat with his cum.

After he left, my mother surprised me by walking out of her bedroom. We had a talk, she stated she knew about my homosexuality and hoped that I used good judgement. Not wanting to know more about what she meant, I went to bed. Over the next few months, I opened up more and more about men friends and she did about her own. We entered a weird girlfriend’s space, but that worked much better than single, swing-shift working, wildly sexual divorced mother and increasingly expressive and active gay son.

That summer Ethan Colburn went off to college and I fell into a deep despair. My cocaine usage increased, I started going to the parks for anonymous sex, and sold my ass to older men.

James sent me a text if I wanted to come over, hang out. I knew what hang out means, all gay men do. I showered and prepped myself. Standing at the mirror I gave myself the once over. Not ugly, not overly handsome although some men thought so, I had put on a few pounds but still appeared fit. My erections needed a little help, but I had enough Viagra to keep me hard for weeks on end. Not that I needed to be that hard. James always topped, and I let him. The man knows how to fuck.

I sent a text back stating I would be there in thirty minutes. As I locked my door, with my leather clutch filled with poppers, lube, condoms that I hoped wouldn’t be used, cocaine, and breath mints. James responded that he was looking forward to hanging out and that he had a friend that wanted to hang out with us. I wasn’t surprised. James and I had a number of threesomes with his friends. I only wondered what friend it would be this time, so I asked.

My husband, he replied. My romantic heart deflated just a little, but my lust did not.

I made it to his house in twenty.