True story time (more)

Ilan's First Man or I Can't Believe This Is Your First Time
When I was fourteen, my mother and I had already moved around a few times. My brother had gone to live with his father, who had been Mom's first husband, after running away from home at sixteen. That incident hurt our mother so bad that I refused to speak to him (my big brother) angry that he'd asked me to lie to our mother who raised us with the idea that you take responsibility for your choices, that the worst things in the world to be were a Liar or a Thief. I was angry at him for hurting Mom by telling tales about her physical abuse and adding in things that never happenned. (there are stories there too, but of a different kind)
Our latest move by this time took me from Eighth grade in rural Concow, California through Salem, Oregon to Las Vegas, Nevada and landed us in Needles, CA after losing the majority of our possessions and our two dogs.
This story starts at the El Rancho Motel. We had just moved in and it was the summer before I ended up repeating the eighth grade rather than just enough of it to take the Constitution test I had missed by moving. (I figured new in town+freshman+Late start in school year=Even more harassment from my so-called "peers" than I would suffer otherwise)
The first friend I made at this hotel was an older hispanic guy by the name of Victor. I never knew his last name so he can hardly be held legally responsible for what eventually happenned.
Because I dove into books to escape the "real world" and concentrated on being the caring and soft-spoken artistic and intellectual antithesis of my brother, the get his hands dirty, if he could tear it apart he could put it back together, pussyhound, jock straight "manly" man.... Well I tended to connect with either younger children or adults signifigantly better than kids in my age-group. I had learned to lie by ommision by then so telling my mom about crushes I did in fact get on girls reassured her where my secret affections for boys would NOT have.
I craved attention, affection and acceptance, so was thrilled when this older hispanic guy that Mom and I would talk to when I went to swim in the pool, actually seemed to like listening to me and palling (that word doesn't look right) around with me. We horsed around in the pool and talked and he let me teach him to play chess (I'm no master myself but it was a game that valued thought over muscles that I could play with others so I ran with it). If I had been less naive at the time I would have question why the woman he introduced as his wife was hardly ever around. When I would come over to play chess with him alone (as my mother trusted me to raise a fuss should anything happen and seemed to trust Victor to either not do anything to me out of morals or fear of Mom having his balls for earrings) He'd have the Playboy Channel on. Now I was no stranger to porn by then, but I was playing the role of "good boy" and I'd choose to sit with my back to the television and pretend that this was all normal behavior for two guys hanging out. Because as far as I knew at that point? It could very well have been.
This went on for several months it seemed, and I became comfortable enough with him to offer him backrubs and foot-rubs and neckrubs, to hug him when we met and when we preparred to leave each other's company.
Then he moved out of the motel. I don't remember why. Months later he came back and I was excited to see one of my grown-up friend's again, Mom and I went to talk to him and then she left us alone to catch up. I can only assume I was left on such a slack leash during much of my childhood and teen years because of my mother's involvement in the drug scene. She made quite clear that sheloved me and keeping me fed, clothed and reasonably safe were her top priorities, but that she didn't want me to be around her and her friends when they were using or otherwise involved with drugs.
Anyroad, Victor and I talked and hugged like we usually did, but this time his hug wasn't quite just fatherly or friend-like. This time he ran his hands down my back and softly, gently rubbed my butt. His voice was louder than a whiper but softer than normal when he asked me if it felt good.
And it did. It felt so good, but my insides felt flutterry and cold and warm at the same time. So I told him that it did feel good but I needed to get back to the room I shared with Mom and finish some homework. The truth, but not all of the truth.
He left again shortly after. After getting back from another trip (I remember this trip having something to do with work or money) He and a friend took my mother and I out for a visit.
We went to Fort Mohave where he and his friend had a room with two beds and we all socialized a bit. I started giving Victor a shoulder rub, and he lay down on the bed we were sitting on so I could straddle his waist and work his back.
At about that time Mom and Victor's friend decided they were going to go somewhere else for some reason that Mom didn't elaborate (it sounded like her typical evasive way of leaving me somewhere so she could do something she didn't want or need me privy to)
So Victor and I were alone.
He kept asking me to go lower and I complied, working lower and lower down his clothed back and sliding my seat over his butt and then his upper thighs as he kept urging me "lower, lower" During all this the internal conflict of "Oh my gods, I'm getting to touch a MAN" versus "Don't let him know how much you like it," was going on plus the beginnings of the flutterry cold feeling in my belly that I've come to associate with nervous excitement.
He moved under me saying,
"Let me show you what I mean."
We switched positions and he stroked his hands down my back before focusing his touching on my butt. Softly, gently all over and between the cheeks. The cold, fluttery feeling in my stomach increased dramaticly.
"I think I can do that," I murmurred.
But at some point or another Victor must have realized I was becoming aroused because we ended up laying on our sides on the bed, facing each other. I followed his lead and we openned each other's jeans. I saw my first glimpse of an adult male cock peeking out of his white briefs, thick, caramel-colorred, warm and mine to touch.
We jerked and rubbed each other for a while, then got up off the bed and undressed. Rememberring what I'd seen in porn and popular media, I dropped to my knees and started sucking that dick like I was trying out for a cocksucking competition.
Apparantly, my skill and enthusiasm led him to disbelieve that it was my first time. I'm sorry, give a horny teenager porn, sex ed guides and a little imagination and they can pretty much figure out what might be good.
We switched off before he came and he suckled by cock and licked it and seemed just as happy to have it in his mouth as I had been when our positions were reversed.
We tried to stick his big, thick cock up my virgin ass, but that hurt too much so he let me mout him till he came. I don't remember if I came or not. Until recently I never orgasmed while topping. I'd ejaculate, sure, but I would hardly feel anything while I was doing it.
We cleaned up and were making out again when we caught sight of Victor's buddy and my mom coming up the road. We slapped together a board game to look like we were just finishing and everything played out just fine.
Then Victor's friend went off somewhere again. Mom went across the parking lot to get a soda and Victor tried to coax me over to him so he could play with my ass. I was mortified at the thought of doing that with Mom so nearby. I hissed "no" at him with such a note of outrage in my voice that he stopped.
Later that night he and I walked past the college to the gas station down the road from the hotel. I walked a good four feet away from him. He tried to tell me what we had done was all about love. I didn't really believe that. I mean, if it was motivated by love, wouldn't he have wanted to steal a kiss when my mother was briefly out of the room? No he wanted to play with my ass. So I put him off by forcing out a strangled "I'm just confused, I need to think about what we did." Mom and I were with him that whole weekend. We palled around, went down by the river where he took a piss in what would have been full view of both my mother and myself had I not been back in the role of a "good boy" and been discrete about shit like that. I was raised that everyone has to piss sometimes, you just don't look. He even made a joke about his dick being an anaconda. To my mind at the time, that was an accurate metaphore.
I ended up sick off of the pastries and snacks we got from the store. whether because of the scarcity of "real food" in my diet that weekend or the accumulated stress of having my first time in such less than ideal situation.
I never saw him again. I'd like to have. But I haven't.
***

Comments

sorry dude...you had a very hard youth...hope you can get passed it and have a good life...you are a survivor..
 
*shrugs* It was hardly all bad, even some of those situations that people would disaprove of. I try to learn from the good and bad of each situation that has happenned to me.
 

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