That married guy ...

I was in my college roommate's wedding as an usher. I looked pretty cute in that tux, if I do say so myself. That was in the late 90s. It was something I probably should not have done, I can admit in retrospect. It really was awkward standing up for that marriage, vowing before God and everyone that I would do everything possible to keep it together ... but I decided that part of keeping that vow was NOT telling her that I had slept with him while they were dating.

They're divorced now. (You're shocked - I know)

After that experience, however, I made a vow of my own without the aid of a tux, a church and a priest ... I vowed never, ever to sleep with a straight guy again. I mean, people ... it was fucking AWFUL. Just plan ole bad sex. It was so bad that I actually told him ... "man, you really ARE straight."

That did wonders for his ego ... because, people, really - he was just experimenting. Believe me. He was REALLY *just* experimenting. I know some people have a hard time believing that a guy could mess with another guy and not be one drop gay, but this dude was seriously just trying to exhaust every possible anything.

We had gone out drinking the night before. It was my ninth semester (out of eight!) and my last. (that's a totally different story - shh. Later.) And I had wanted this man in bed for several years. But we were friends and it was college and we just drank and acted like retards. That night, we were draggin our asses back from the bars and my dorm was closest and on the way to his. There was an enormous hill (There had to be a 25-30 foot change in elevation from bottom to top) between my place and his and to make a long story short ... we crashed at my place, both passed out on my full size futon.

The light of the next morning was poking at my eyelids while I slept and I tried desperately not to notice the red behind my eyelids. I felt myself taking deep, steady breaths trying to stay relaxed so that I could fall back asleep but a strange sensation came over me. I don't know how to explain it - through the dry hangover I felt watched. So, I opened my eyes and there he was, awake and staring at my face while I slept. I smiled, turned around and reached back to pull his arm around me. And then I went back to sleep. He didn't stop me, and he didn't pull away.

Later that day, we ended up back at my place - night had come. Conversation got interesting and we beat around the bush talking about what gay sex was like. I'd had it - he hadn't. Eventually, I told him I could kiss him and show him. He didn't say no. I approached him and placed one hand on each arm of the chair and leaned into his face. "Can you handle it?"

"Yeah," he said.

I licked my lips, drawing closer. "I'm serious, man."

Nothing.

Then I traced his lips with my tongue.

He kept his eyes closed as I looked to see his expression when I was done. He was steadying his breathing.

Then, I kissed him - full on. And he kissed back. And our tongues rolled together until I had to stop to get his shirt over his head. Eventually, he was completely disrobed.

He laughed quietly and became a bit shy. "I'm naked in front of you in your room," he said.

"That's the the problem. The problem is ... I'm *not*"

He took my clothes off in the clumsiest of fashions and I wished I would've just done it myself. He was better endowed than my ex ... the one man I had had sex with to that point, and I wasn't sure I could deal with all of that. But I took him into my mouth anyway ...

He had told me that he was frustrated with his wife because she couldn't get his whole dick in her mouth. I wasn't sure I was going to be able to either. I think I was about half an inch shy of doing so ... but I tried.

And that's pretty much how everything went. I tried to do everything his wife couldn't ... and he would do a fucking thing. As a passive participant, I think he felt it made him not necessarily gay. He continued to be clumsy, say things in the least sexy way possible and had an overall detached experience with me ... and it showed. For two years I wanted this experience ... but I wanted him to want to be there with me. And, he really didn't want to be ... he just felt safe with me - safe enough to experiment and not have anyone know. And I'm good for it - I didn't tell.

It was all just a big waste of my time. I didn't really enjoy myself at all. AT ALL. And, you know what ... I really don't think he did either. It all just got awkward. Mechanically, that is - his movements weren't fluid, he wasn't really into it and he just wanted me to make it all happen. And I wasn't nearly experienced enough to be all that right then.

We're friends to this day - he's the biggest whore I know. He's hot as hell and the women just love him ... and he does love himself some pussy. He gets laid more than anyone I know. And I've heard about lots and lots and LOTS of his conquests over the years and since his divorce. And once he send me a pic of his then girlfriend's tits ... holy fuck they were huge!

People - for real. He's straight. And I won't ever sleep with a straight dude again.