When love blinded me from seeing the truth.
Now all that had been stirred back up. Every minute of every day that Tate and I had spent together.
After leaving Tate up on the roof and as I descended the steps, I spiraled back into the past.
Tonight it was back to that first weekend we spent together. When things between Tate and me began to tip from friendship to something else…
Like my first time, Tate’s first time with me was awkward, uncomfortable, and definitely nothing to write home about. Not that I would. My family was certainly accepting but didn’t want to hear about my sexual escapades.
Not that I blamed them. I certainly didn’t want the details on how my brother Declan made my nieces and nephews with my sister-in-law.
I grimaced.
I thought about that first weekend together often in the weeks that followed, going over everything to figure out what we could’ve done differently to make it easier on Tate.
The foreplay had been great. Kissing, sucking and touching each other, a fantasy come true for me. I took my time getting to know Tate’s body up close and personal. I got familiar with every inch. I laid on my back and he did the same with me, then flipped me over. I somehow kept my patience as he tentatively explored my whole body from the top of my head all the way to my toes by tasting and touching.
By the time he was done, I was horny as hell, hard as a freaking rock and ready to burst. But I forced myself to take things slower than I normally would.
When it came to sex, patience wasn’t my strong suit.
I explained things as we went. Any question he asked, I answered to the best of my ability. Had I had a lot of anal sex? No. I was only nineteen, and with being gay, I didn’t get the chance to have a lot of sex in my teens. It was difficult since I wasn’t out at the time, afraid I’d become a target of bullying. By other students, by parents, even by teachers. Plus, I wasn’t out to my family yet, either, and didn’t want them to find out from someone else.
Like Tate, I wanted to be absolutely sure of my sexuality before announcing it to the world.
Okay, maybe not quite announcing it, but at least being out in the open.
But to be sure about what I wanted and what I didn’t, I had to look outside of school. Eventually, I found another kid about my age much braver than me and was out. Once we connected, we fooled around a lot. Including doing “the deed” for the first time.
Unfortunately, it had been way more awkward and messy than Tate taking my ass for the first time because I had a whole slew of knowledge by then.
Even though having sex with a man was all new to Tate, he was open to learning. It was no surprise that he didn’t last long, but in the end we both had intense orgasms due to all the foreplay and prep. The anticipation alone had drove us both to the breaking point.
While he wasn’t put off by having sex with me, I could tell his emotions flip-flopped back and forth. When they did, when he began to question whether he wanted to have sex with me—or any man—we slowed down. During those times, I had to dig even deeper to find my patience because I didn’t want to rush him.
I didn’t want to ruin the experience for him.
I wanted him to want it as much as I did. I also hoped that if this first time went well, he’d want to do it more.
With me, of course. That was a no-brainer. The hell if I was going through all this for him to go do it with others.
That first night in my dorm room turned into a whole weekend together. We only left my room occasionally to grab food. If anyone asked, we told them we were working on a paper for creative writing together.
By late Sunday night when he finally left me and my bed, I was actually ready for a break. The more we fooled around, the more Tate wanted to try new things.
Normally I’d be all gung-ho about that. However, I wasn’t used to bottoming and I was starting to feel the results. But it was too early for me to ask Tate about switching. I would eventually, if this continued, since I preferred to top but in the meantime, I needed to stay patient while Tate got his bearings.
He hit the Jim Beam a few more times that weekend but not as much as I thought he might. He only took a shot or two here and there to take off the edge and loosen up a bit.