Archive-name: FirstGay/ftg018.txt
Archive-author: 
Archive-title: My first...


    I really like this sub-board, and I envy all you guys that had
a really ideal, dreamy first time.  I'm relating my first time not
so much because it was the stuff fantasy is made of, but because
it was so unusual and unique in it's circumstances.  At lease I think
it is...I've never met anyone who had anything like this happen to
him.  Here goes...
    When I graduated from a public Jr. High about 12 years ago, I
decided that I wanted to attend a local all-boy's high school, because
at the time I had a very intense interest in becoming a priest in
the Roman Catholic church, and this was a Catholic school well know
for being an excellent prep school for future seminarians...not that
they only turned out priests, mind you.  Anyway, my local parish
church offered to pay my way, and I went.  I was 15 years old, very
innocent, and very naive.
    My first day at the school, I somehow captured the attention
of a certain priest, who stopped and talked to me at length.  He
was very warm and sweet to me, and I needed the positive attention
he was giving me because I was feeling very insecure.  He was handsome
and young-looking for his age, and though I can't say I was attracted
to him, I did feel him drawing me to him, charming me in a way I
had never yet experienced.  He was the prior of a seminary near where
I lived, and he offered to give me rides to school from then on,
so I wouldn't have to take the bus.  At this point, I suspected nothing,
not realizing that even a "man of the cloth" could be capable of
ulterior motives.
    As time passed, "Father" and I became very close friends.  He
often invited me to the seminary to have supper, after which we would
go to his private room and we would talk or he'd help me with my
homework (I needed the help...I was carrying 7 solids that semester!).
After a while, he very carefully developed a physical neutrality
between us...he thought nothing of reaching out and touching me on
the arm, the neck, the back, the chest...he'd even pat my flat, hard
little tummy and rub it, and chuckle.  He eventually began hugging
me...not little innocent hugs, but long, meaningful ones that I had
never had from my father;  I didn't understand what was happening,
and I wasn't sure it was "right", but I liked it.  Throughout Jr.
High I had gradually come to a subliminal realization that I was
gay, though at the time I don't think I attached that label to it.
I remember having watched all my friends take off their clothes in
the locker before and after Gym class, and lusting after them passionately
all the while wondering why I felt that way, yet never questioning
it.  It is therefore little wonder to me that I enjoyed "Father's"
advances...they were what I had been wanting all along.
    At any rate, our meetings became more frequent when I began to
work at the church adjoining the seminary shortly thereafter.  I
was going over to see "Father" about every other night, and his embraces
and touches were becoming more and more intense.  One night, he laid
me down on his bed with him and he slowly worked a hand down the
front of my pants.  I got so hard I thought I would explode, and
it felt so damned gooooood!...but I was scared to death too!  The
conflicting emotions battled in my head while he kissed me and helod
me in his arms for hours.  Finally, he opened my pants, and started
to try to pull them off.  I don't remember what I was feeling as
he started to do this, but I remember him looking at me, and then
getting a sweet, compassionate look on his face...and then without
saying anything, he fastened my pants again and just held me for
a while.  What a look I must have had on my face!  I felt relieved.
The pressure was off, and I was safe again in his arms.  I am to
this day thankful that he did not press his advantage at that time,
because I know now I was not ready, and he, in his wisdom, realized
that.  On my way home on my bicycle that night, I resolved that no
matter what "Father" wanted to do with me, the next time we got together,
I would let him have his way.  I tingled with anticipation.
    A few nights later, I went to the seminary knowing that I would
leave there a different person.  I had supper with "Father" and the
seminarians (who, incidentally, seemed utterly oblivious to what
was going on, as was my family), and, having had a little more wine
than I was usually accustomed to (yes, they let me drink!), I went
with "Father" to his room.  He began almost immediately seducing
me, holding me and fondling me to a purpose, and for the first time,
I began reciprocating.  Each caress and kiss of his was answered
with one of my own as we melted into each other.  Gradually, almost
imperceptibly, items of clothing disappeared from our bodies until
at last we were blissfully naked together.  I remember feeling like
the touch of his soft skin was the most beautiful sensation I had
ever experienced, and the soft, long, downy black hair of his body
against my lily-white, nearly hairless skin stimulated me as I concentrate
d on every last nerve ending in my body, not wanting to miss a single
sensation.  His mouth found its way to my swollen cock and he sucked
me until I thought I would scream!  Then we bagan to masturbate each
other, slowly and gently at first, gradually increasing in speed
and intensity.  When he came, I was enthralled...I had never seen
another man ejaculate before, and I was fascinated.  Then I situated
myself on top of him and, rubbing against his belly while we kissed,
stimulated myself to an explosive orgasm.  We lay together for a
long time after it was over, saying nothing, enjoying each other.
At last, he said to me, "what a wonderful love we have...so tender,
so free...", and he trailed off, looking at me with true love in
his eyes.  I was too overwhelmed to feel any specific emotions, but
I nodded agreement, and snuggled close to him.
    In the ensuing 2 years, I suppose "Father" and I became lovers,
though I can't say I ever really fell in love with him.  Though we
continued to make love regularly, I still loved him more like a son
loves his father...he was the "daddy" I never really had.  By the
time I broke off my friendship with "Father", for various personal
reasons, we had experienced a great closeness, and I was ripe and
ready to explore other men as we had explored each other.  Writing
this has been an excercize in appreciation of this experience for
me, I think, for in doing so, I have realized that I have fonder
memories of it than I thought.

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